Lily dropped a pat of butter onto the griddle, swirled it around, then poured six more pancakes. “You just get a feel for it. Through a lot of trial and error.” Her eyes dropped to the ruined pancakes, and she smiled.

“Story of my life,” I muttered. “The trial and error part. I still haven’t experienced the whole get-a-feel-for-it part yet.”

“Tomorrow’s another day,” she replied, focusing on the pancakes. “Dream big.”

I lifted my brows. Was that what I thought it was? A note of smartass in sweet Lily Walker’s vocab? I didn’t realize that characteristic ran in anyone in the family other than Jesse.

“Why don’t you pour the coffee?” Lily suggested. “Carefully.”

“No guarantees.” I made my way over to the coffee pot and hoped I didn’t spill hot coffee on some poor cowboy’s crotch.

In a minute’s time, the kitchen had filled up with more cowboys than I could count. The couple dozen pegs sticking out of the wall were almost all filled with different kinds and colors of cowboy hats. Apparently wearing your hat to Rose Walker’s table wasn’t tolerated. The guys milling about the room were as varied as their hats. Tall, short. Slim, stocky. Young, old. Light skinned, dark skinned. It was the most varied group of cowboys I’d ever seen.

Well, it was really the first group of cowboys I’d ever seen.

However, one characteristic joined them all together. They all drank coffee. And a lot of it. Before Rose and the girls had finished setting all the breakfast goods on the table, I’d gone through three full pots of coffee. I understood why Rose prepared a few gallons of it in advance.

Jesse introduced me to everyone as I milled my way around, and everyone greeted me with a tip of their head and some sort of greeting followed by ma’am. By the time everyone had full plates, I felt as comfortable as I could around a couple dozen ranch hands, and I knew that was thanks to Jesse and his easy introductions. He was a member of the club, and he saw to it I became one right off the bat.

It was nice to be included. It was nice to feel a part of something.

It was the first time I’d had that in a while.

“More coffee?” I asked, stopping behind Jesse. His cup was still half full.

He twisted in his seat, a smile already on his face. “Please,” he said, handing me his cup. My fingers grazed his when I took the cup, and if I’d ever felt a more intimate touch, I couldn’t recall it. God. One finger graze and my heart thrummed like it was about to take off.

As I poured, Jesse’s eyes shifted to mine and they didn’t look away. Mine didn’t either, or . . . they couldn’t. When Jesse Walker looked at me that way, it was all I could do to look back and stay upright.

“Coffee,” he said suddenly, glancing at his cup.

My eyebrows came together.

“Overflowing.” He smirked at the cup so I really couldn’t peel my eyes away.

A few chuckles sounded around us.

“Pooling on the floor.” When Jesse reached for his napkin, I finally caught up.

Gauging from the size of the puddle, coffee had been spilling over the side of the cup for longer than a second or two.

“Shit,” I said, righting the coffee pot immediately. Setting it on the table, I grabbed a stack of napkins before kneeling beside Jesse. “I mean . . . shoot.”

“Nah,” he said, wiping up the sea of coffee in one long sweep. “You mean shit. This is definitely a mess worthy of a shit, not a shoot.”

I smiled at the floor as I wiped up the last of the coffee. “At least it didn’t end up in your lap.”

“I’m counting my blessings as we speak.” His hair fell over his forehead, moving in ways that made me want to run my fingers through it as he continued to scrub the floor. His hair was really much too nice to stay hidden beneath a cowboy hat all day. “So . . . have you decided?”

“Decided on what?”

“If you’re going to let me take you out some time. You know, a date? Something other than kneeling on a floor and cleaning up coffee?” Jesse’s gaze stayed on the spot where the coffee had been. Almost like he was suddenly shy.

I cleared my throat and looked around. Everyone was too busy eating to pay us any attention. “Well, you didn’t really ask me,” I said. “And you haven’t really given me much time to think about what you didn’t really ask me.”

Jesse scooped up the wet napkins and tossed them into the garbage can at the end of the kitchen without standing. He inhaled a long breath before locking his eyes on mine. “Rowen Sterling,” he said, his voice strong, “can I take you on a date sometime?”

I knew I should try, but I couldn’t keep my face from lighting up. “I don’t know. Can you?” I teased.

He sighed. “May I? May I take you on a date sometime?”

“Because you don’t have a girlfriend—”

“Or a boyfriend. Or a cattlefriend,” he mumbled, giving me a look. Good. So he remembered my question.

“And because you’re kind of cute,” I continued, “and because you’re not afraid to get down and dirty,” I stared pointedly at where he kneeled beside me, “I promise I’ll think about going on a date with you. Sometime.”

If Jesse’s expression could get more relieved, I couldn’t envision it. “I’ve never been so excited for sometime.”

I heard the kitchen door open behind us, but I didn’t pay it any attention. That was, until a shiny, black pair of cowboy boots stepped right next to me.

“No need to get down on your hands and knees on my account.”

Jesse went rigid the instant he heard the guy’s voice. My eyes moved up those black boots, to his hub cap-sized silver belt buckle stamped with a man riding a bull, and ending on his black, felt hat. His skin was almost as fair as mine, and his eyes were so dark it was hard to distinguish the pupil from the iris. Lanky, dark, and sinister. That guy, minus the hick wear, was just my type.

When Jesse shifted beside me and all two hundred pounds of bronzy, brawn, and blond of him stood, my heart thundered in my chest again. Maybe my type had changed. Or was changing. Or was in transition. It was all very confusing.

Mr. Dark and Sinister’s mouth curved up on one side as those dark eyes took me in. “Not that you don’t look great down there, but let me give you a hand,” he said, extending his hand toward me. If the expression on his face didn’t say it all, his tone did.

Jesse pivoted in front of him, lowering his hand toward me. I took it without stopping to think. It was natural. Easy. Effortless. When Jesse reached out for me, I reached back.

“Who’s your new friend, Jess?” the other guy asked, stepping around the tower of man in front of me.

If it was possible, Jesse’s body tensed even more. I wasn’t sure if Jesse kept his mouth sealed shut because he plain just didn’t want to talk to the other guy or he didn’t want to introduce us. Either way, he obviously wouldn’t make the introductions, and the other guy obviously wouldn’t move until the introductions were made.

Taking matters into my own hands, I crossed my arms and leveled the other guy with a no nonsense look. “I’m Rowen.”

Jesse’s eyes closed.

Dark and Sinister Boy’s eyes went a shade darker. “Rowen . . .?”

“Miss Rowen to you,” I said, lifting a brow. “And a first name’s all you’re getting because you have to earn a last name.”

“Does this guy know it?” he replied, hitching his thumb Jesse’s direction.

“Yeah. He does.”

“So you’ll give Jesse Walker your last name, but you won’t tell me,” he said, resting his thumbs on his belt buckle. “Why’s that?”

“He earned it.” I glanced at Jesse from the corner of my eyes. He watched me so carefully it was like he was worried I was about to be snatched away in the blink of an eye.

“Garth,” he said, extending his hand. I let it hang there. “And because you’re the finest thing I’ve seen in a while, you’ve earned yourself a last name.” Jesse’s hands curled into fists. “Black. Garth Black.”

From his jeans to his boots to his eyes . . . to his entire demeanor, he personified his last name perfectly.

When Garth realized I wouldn’t shake his hand anytime this century, he dropped it. His eyes slid from me to Jesse. They went a shade darker.

“Long time no see, old pal,” he said.

Jesse blew a rush of air from his nose. “What are you doing here, Black?”

“Well, it certainly isn’t to worship at your feet like the rest of this damn town. And it sure isn’t to make a heartfelt apology.”

Storm clouds rolled through those sky blue eyes of Jesse’s. “Spit it out,” he said, his jaw clenching. “What the hell are you doing on my property?”

If it wasn’t so hot inside the kitchen, chills would have crawled up my spine from the ice in Jesse’s voice. Those two had history. That was as obvious as their mutual hatred. What that history was and where that hate came from was the mystery. As much as I loved a good mystery, now was neither the time nor place to get to the bottom of it. For the most part, the rest of the guys sitting around the table were consumed with stuffing their mouths, but I caught Rose and Lily throwing us a few sideways looks.

“Your dad hired me on,” Garth replied. “I’m going to be helping out this summer.”

“How long are you going to last this time?” Jesse replied, angling in front of him. Toe to toe, Jesse had him by a couple of inches even with Garth’s hat still on. “Two weeks? Maybe three?” He shook his head. “Commitment isn’t really your thing.”

“No, it certainly isn’t,” Garth said with that wicked half smile of his. “Commitment’s boring. Predictable. It sucks the life out of a person.” He ran his eyes down Jesse intentionally. “Commitment’s more your thing.”

Whatever had happened between them ran deeper than an everyday disagreement. Judging from the looks in their eyes whenever they looked at each other, if murder was legal, they wouldn’t have hesitated.

“You boys catching up?” A middle-aged man stepped up to the three of us and clapped one hand over Jesse’s shoulder and another over Garth’s.

“We sure are, Mr. Walker,” Garth replied, his eyes gleaming.

Ah. So there was the Mr. Walker I’d heard so much about but was starting to believe was the man hiding behind the curtains. He was on the short side and had brown hair and eyes like the rest of his family minus one. How had Rose and Neil created the blond Viking god beside me? DNA was a funny thing.

“I thought we were all hired up for the summer,” Jesse said to his dad.

“We were. Right up until Phil Jepson decided his old body couldn’t take another summer at Willow Springs. He let me know he was leaving yesterday morning, and when I ran into town last night to pick up some supplies, guess who I ran into?”

“Since Garth Black is standing in front of me, I don’t think I need to guess,” was Jesse’s clipped response.