By the time Mary returned home, the sun hung like a fat orange over the western horizon. She parked the pickup close to the house, loaded up with three sacks of groceries, and tucked a fat stack of mail beneath her arm. Remarkably, she managed to reach the counter without dropping anything. With a huff of relief, she plunked everything down and made a second trip to the truck to retrieve the rest.

In the kitchen, she put away the groceries and sorted the mail. An official letter from the county tax assessor caught her attention. Dread knotted her gut as she sank into a chair. It appeared her inquiries to their office had been answered with lightning-fast efficiency. So much for her prayers that plodding government bureaucracy would buy her some extra time.

"Hope for the best, prepare for the worst." She sucked a breath between her teeth and tore open the envelope. It contained a thick sheath of folded pages. Mary's hands shook, making it impossible to read the fine print. She had to force herself to be steady.

The news proved about what she'd expected. Quentin—that son of a bitch—hadn't paid one red cent of two years' worth of the annual tax bill. The full amount plus penalties was due immediately. Unless she paid off the full balance within thirty days, the county would place a lien on her property.

Tears welled up in Mary's eyes, and her fear transformed into anger. She crushed the edges of the letter, and it took everything she had not to rip it to shreds. She strove to remain calm. Frantically, she ran the numbers in her head. Over the course of the last week, she'd finally managed to bring the accounting books up to date. Unfortunately, having the accounts balanced hadn't improved the farm's financial position, but at least now she understood it.

Precarious was an apt descriptor.

She didn't have the funds to settle the debt. The sheep had already been shorn prior to the springtime lambing season. The wool had been sold and the money spent, except for the fund she'd set aside to cover veterinarian expenses. She couldn't borrow from it without harming the flock. Not even an option. Her ewes would bring a good price at auction, but hawking them meant selling the future of the ranch.

Either way, she was screwed.

Frantic barking from the porch startled her straight out of her stupor. Mary shot to her feet and sprinted to the front door. She jerked it open, revealing Colleen on the stoop. The cattle dog backed away, her head held low.

"What's wrong, girl?" Mary started forward, but then hesitated. If coyotes were on the property, she ought to fetch the rifle hung over the mantle.

Colleen hesitated, a marked delay. Then her jaws parted in the most wry smile to ever cross a canine face. "Look, I'm not in the mood to play dinkum, Lassie," the dog said. "Come quick. Demetri needs your help."

Mary's jaw dropped. "You can talk!"

"That I can." Colleen wagged her tail. "Are you coming?"

"Wow, you can talk." Mary stumbled, yanking the door shut behind her. Wide-eyed, she stared at Colleen. Her thoughts tumbled pell-mell down a hill, hit a wall, and dogpiled at the bottom.

Dogpiled—see how funny she could be even in a state of shock?

"Uh, yeah." Colleen pranced with impatience. "C'mon, you were married to a coyote-shifter. I'm a shifter, too, of a different breed. Some of my ancestors were dingoes. This can't be that much of a stretch."

Mary blinked. "How is it you sound Australian, but talk like an American?"

Colleen offered up a slow smile. "I get around."

"Right." Mary clutched the porch railing to steady herself while she absorbed the new information. Huffing, she shrugged. "Okay, sure. If coyote-shifters and ram-shifters are possible, then dog-dingoes really are totally plausible."

Colleen's ears perked in surprise. "Wait, how did you know about Demetri?"

Mary took her turn to grin. "I get around."

"Ace!" The dog laughed.

"Wait! Does this mean unicorns are real?"

"Well, now. You're not a virgin so that's not really relevant, is it?" Colleen cocked her head as though remembering something. "Demetri needs your help in the barn. Pepper's in labor—there's some sort of complication. "

"Crap, I'm coming." Mary's face flushed hot with guilt at having been distracted. She rushed down the short staircase leading off the porch and hit the ground running. "Let's go."

"Hurry!" Colleen trotted ahead, but then hesitated. She glanced over her shoulder. "Don't tell Demetri that I spoke to you, okay? He wanted to keep it secret."

"That man keeps a lot of secrets, doesn't he?" Mary remarked in a sour tone.

"Yes, but in his defense, he has good reasons. Please don't tell?"

"Okay, fine." Mary grimaced. "But only if you promise we can talk later."

"Deal." Colleen bolted ahead, leading the way.

* * *

Frantic with worry, Mary strove to keep a cool head, but it was difficult. Her mind raced, turning over all the things that could've gone wrong. Naturally, she leapt straight to the worst-case scenario. Difficult births were the leading cause of death among newborn lambs and their mothers. It occurred to her to call the vet, but she needed to assess the urgency of the situation first. She had her cell phone in hand should it prove necessary.

Racing ahead, Colleen vanished through the open barn doors, a circumstance that alarmed Mary. She burst inside, ready to take on any threat to her flock with her bare hands if necessary. Her rushed entrance startled one of the barn cats. The skittish feline hissed and bolted for safety.

Panting, Mary skidded to a halt. The placid belting of the ewes greeted her. The sheep were secure in their pens—no sign of a threat anywhere, coyote-shaped or otherwise. The doors must've been left open for Colleen, an obvious explanation, but one that left her feeling foolish.

"This way." Colleen made a beeline toward the back of the barn.

Mary detoured through the supply room to grab the medical kit. She found it gone, and assumed Demetri must've already taken it. The proof of his preparation soothed her anxiety somewhat. She knew next to nothing about ram-shifters, but it was hard to believe he was a complete ignoramus when it came to lambing.

Jogging, Mary ducked into the corridor again and followed Colleen's barking toward the trio of stalls reserved for injured and laboring animals. She called out to announce her arrival, "Demetri!"

"In here." His answer came from the far right stall.

The gate was ajar, so Mary ducked through. Pepper, a black and gray ewe, sprawled on the thick bed of straw. The sheep lifted her head off the floor, uttering a distressed bleat, and thrashed weakly about on her side. Demetri knelt behind Pepper, performing an examination. He wore a heavy black apron and gloves that came to his elbows. The medical case was open beside him.

"What's happening?" Mary asked, panting to catch her breath.

"The lamb is breech. His rear legs are tucked under. Only his tail is presenting." Demetri glanced up. His face set in a grim mask. One look into his eyes confirmed the dire situation.

"I'm calling the veterinarian." Mary almost dropped her phone. Her hands were shaking so much, she expected dialing the old-fashioned way would be impossible. Thank goodness she had Doctor Chan's number in her contacts.

"There's no time. I need to turn the lamb which will probably—"

"Break the umbilical cord," Mary finished his sentence. She dropped to her knees and seized Pepper's neck, holding her steady. "Easy, girl. Easy. We're here to help."

"I'm glad you're here," Demetri muttered.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Mary stroked Pepper's head, and gradually, the ewe stopped struggling.

"I can do this, Mary. Do you trust me?"

Startled, Mary glanced up and met Demetri's gaze. His regard was steady and demanding—asking for more than she was ready to give. She quavered and almost looked down. Abruptly, every doubt and misgiving she harbored welled to the surface. For an awful moment, fear and faith waged a fierce battle in her heart. Lifting her chin, Mary quashed the conflict. Her pragmatic nature won out. Pepper needed immediate assistance, and Mary quivering about like an unset bowl of Jell-O hardly helped. Despite his secrets, this was a good man.

"Yes, of course I trust you, Demetri." Mary mustered a real, honest-to-god smile. Warmth blossomed in her heart, and the frost of fear melted away.

Demetri flashed a wide grin, and then bent to the task. They worked as a team. Mary comforted Pepper and kept the sheep from struggling. Demetri turned the lamb within the womb. Together, they completed the delivery and brought a tiny new life into the world. The babe was perfect: a tiny lamb with fleece as white as snow.

Hours later, they leaned against the side of the stall and gazed in upon the snow-white lamb curled against her mother. "Look at them," Demetri said, sounding as pleased as punch. "Aren't they beautiful?"

"Yes, they are." Mary glanced over at the man beside her. His big, strong body brushed against hers, warm and inviting.

"Have you decided on a name for the lamb?" Demetri smiled with that sensuous mouth she longed to kiss.

"Hope." Liquid heat pooled in her core. She wanted to touch him more intimately. She longed to run her hands over his smooth skin and solid muscles, and she couldn't recall a single good reason why she shouldn't caress him. Her entire life had been a long saga of self-denial and depravation. She didn't want to wait anymore.

"Hope is a good name," Demetri said with a nod of satisfaction.

Before she could stop herself, she asked, "Would you please kiss me?"

Demetri turned his head sharply. His pupils dilated, dark with desire, and his lips parted. "There's nothing I'd love to do more. Are you sure?"

"I've never been surer of anything. This last week has been..." Mary's courage failed and she couldn't finish, but the thought was there. Working with Demetri every day—so close but unable to touch him—it'd been pure torture.

"Hard," Demetri said in that sardonic way of his. He pivoted to face her. "It's been really hard."

The stupid, immature joke cracked her up. Mary dissolved into giggles. She reached for him even as he surrounded her with his arms. Standing on tiptoe, she wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and tugged him down.

Acting as the aggressor, Mary captured Demetri's sensuous, smiling mouth. He parted his lips for her, and she explored the smooth ridge of his front teeth with her tongue. His complex, earthy flavor tantalized and fueled her hunger.

The world tipped and then spun when Demetri swept Mary off her feet. For the last week they'd orbited each other in the tense prelude to a courtship dance that'd finally come full circle.