Dylan Royal aimed the all-terrain vehicle toward the ranch and got the machine going at full speed, the pictures on his phone adding weight to the device in his pocket. Dwayne, the owner of Grape Seed Ranch where Dylan worked, wouldn’t be happy. Calls would have to be made.

After all, they were losing cattle to the coyotes that had been plaguing the ranch for over a year now. A downed cow here and there was a normal loss, but the pictures Dylan had on his phone marked the hundredth cow they’d lost in the past two months alone.

“Not just coyotes,” he muttered to himself, his bones vibrating from the bumpy ground as the ATV sped toward home.

Home. What a funny word for Dylan. He wasn’t sure if Grape Seed Falls the town or Grape Seed Ranch was really home. But both of his brothers were here, and he supposed that family made a place home more than where a place was physically located.

He bypassed the house where Dwayne used to live before he married Felicity. It was used for dinners sometimes if the wind was particularly bad, and Dwayne kept the fridge stocked with water and soda, and the cupboards with crackers and other snacks. Dylan had stopped by the house dozens of times on his way in from the outer zones, where he spent most of his time.

He liked lounging on the comfortable couch in the living room, or sometimes the hammock he’d tied to one post of the back porch and the tree several feet from that. The house, which had been empty for a couple of years now, was a great place to get away and just think. Just be. Reset himself.

But he didn’t stop today. Today, he needed to find Dwayne and have a serious talk. He knocked on the back door of the homestead. “Dwayne?” He entered, but he knew immediately that no one was home.

Instead of traipsing all over the ranch to find him, Dylan pulled out his phone and called the boss. “Hey,” he said when Dwayne answered. “Where are you?”

Loud laughter came through the line, and Dylan frowned. Didn’t they all know they’d just lost thirteen more cows to wolves? Wolves, not coyotes. Of course they didn’t know. No one else on the cowboy crew at Grape Seed Ranch spent more time in the outer zones than Dylan did.

Dwayne said something over the ruckus on his end of the line, but Dylan couldn’t make out the words. Frustration boiled beneath his skin, similar to the way he felt whenever his father texted him.

“I’m over at Kurt’s. May set out lunch.”

Of course she did. Dylan loved May and Kurt, his next-door neighbors in the cabin community directly east of the homestead. His stomach growled, reminding him that he’d been out in the wilderness for over twenty-four-hours with only protein bars and bottled water.

“We lost thirteen more cows,” he said.

Dwayne sucked in a tight breath. “Thirteen in one day?”

“Some of them were killed further out, probably a few days ago” Dylan said. “I just now found ‘em.” He stepped back outside and swung his leg over the seat of the ATV. “Boss, I think they’re wolves takin’ our cows down. You’re gonna need to make that call.”

Dwayne exhaled like Dylan had asked him to donate his kidney. “Yeah, all right. I’ll need you there to present everything.”

“Tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.” He started the ATV and let the engine roar die down before asking, “Is there still something to eat at May’s?”

“Do you know May at all?” Dwayne chuckled. “She’ll probably box it all up and send it home with Austin. You two’ll eat like kings for a few days.”

Dylan’s mood lifted and he turned the vehicle toward the Cowboy Commons, where all the cowboys lived in a homey four-by-two grid of cabins, with a covered pavilion, a flag pole, and Kurt and May as their “ranch parents.”

He parked the ATV behind his back door, because it was his primary mode of transportation around the ranch. While the other boys mostly used horses, Dylan had way too far to go to take an animal.

With the scent of chocolate hanging in the air, he walked next door and up Kurt’s back steps. The door was open, letting the April breeze blow through the ho use, and laughter and chatter met his ears.

Relief spread through Dylan, bringing a smile to his face. “Hey, guys,” he said upon entering.

Kurt turned toward him, the cutest little girl cradled in his arms. Despite Dylan’s hunger, he reached for Greta, the almost twelve-month-old who’d stolen his heart the day she’d been born. “Hey, my baby.” He chuckled at her as her face lit up.

With a head full of dark hair, Dylan had been smitten by Greta at first sight. The pull to be a father radiated through him as he cooed at the little girl and hugged her. May and Kurt had been so good to him, letting him watch Greta while they went to town, drove to the river, whatever. He’d volunteered to babysit more times than he could count, and Greta snuggled into him the way she always did.

Dylan liked to think she loved him third best, behind her mom and dad, and he asked, “Did you eat without me?”

The girl babbled something, and Dylan took her with him toward the food still spread out on the counter. “Oh, I see pickles. You love those.” He picked up a baby dill and handed it to Greta, holding it for an extra moment until he was sure her chubby fingers had taken hold.

An extra six-foot table had been set up beside the dining room one, and Dylan found almost everyone there. His older brother, Shane and his fiancée, Robin at the end of the dining room table. They’d be married by the end of the summer, about four months from now. Austin, Dylan’s younger brother, sat next to him, engaged in what looked like a heated conversation with Chadwell Dyer, the youngest cowboy at the ranch. Dean Orwell sat across from them, watching but silent.

Gabe sat next to Trenton and Jorge, and they tipped their heads back and laughed at something Felicity said. She sat across from them, with Dwayne at her side.

Dylan let time slow for a moment, enjoying the sense of camaraderie and family he could feel in this cabin. So his core family had been broken. Shane had found a way through it. Dylan would too. Not that he had any reason to. The lack of females out at Grape Seed made dating difficult. Getting to town hardly ever happened for him, because of his isolated assignment on the edges of the ranch.

Not that he’d tried that hard, but as he balanced Greta on his hip and took his plate of brisket, baked beans, and macaroni salad to an empty spot across from Shane, Dylan wondered if he should make more of an effort to get some female influence in his life. After all, he couldn’t become a father by himself.

“There you are,” Shane said. “I called you four times.”

“Out in the North End Zone,” Dylan said, feeding Greta a small noodle before taking a whole forkful into his mouth. “For three days.”

He looked at Dean, who worked with Dwayne on the agricultural side of the ranch. “Hey, man. Are we still on for ping pong tonight?”

Dean’s whole face lit up, his bright blue eyes practically dancing with fire. He’d come to Grape Seed about the same time as the Royal brothers, and he and his roommate had just bought a table tennis game for their cabin. “Chad’s got this whole bracket made.”

Dylan chuckled. “Of course he does.” Chadwell didn’t do anything halfway, and Dylan spent most of his limited free time with his brothers or with Dean and Chad.

Greta squirmed, and Dylan reset her on his thigh. She fussed, and he said, “Hey, you’re okay. You want another pickle?”

May appeared at the end of the table and scooped the toddler out of Dylan’s arms. “Little Miss is ready for a nap.”

“Aw,” Dylan complained. “She just wanted another pickle.”

Greta’s face crumbled and she started to cry. May bounced her, her expression stern. “It’s naptime. Come by after work and take her to feed the chickens if you want.” She smiled at Dylan, who nodded, a pull of sadness moving through him when May turned and took Greta down the hall to put her to bed.

Shane chuckled as he shook his head.

“What?” Dylan asked.

“You and that baby.”

“I like babies,” Dylan said, glancing at Robin. “Not all of us live in a two-hundred square foot house.”

“We’re not opposed to babies,” Robin said.

“We’re not?” Shane looked at her, surprise in his face.

“Oh, boy,” Dylan said. “Sounds like you guys better work this out before August twenty-fifth.”

Another round of hysterical laugher came from the other end of the table, and Dylan turned toward Felicity and the other cowboys, once again with a full heart and the worry of those downed cows out of his mind. For now.

“Now?” Dylan twirled the ping pong paddle as he glanced out the front window of Dean’s cabin. It was almost six-thirty, and he’d been done working for an hour. Freshly showered, and with a bag of barbeque potato chips—his favorite—he’d been hoping for some fun and games tonight.

“I called the Texas Parks and Wildlife after lunch, and they said they’d send someone out as soon as possible. It’s now.” Dwayne didn’t speak unkindly, but he also didn’t care much about a friendly game of ping pong going on in the cabin community.

“Fine,” Dylan said. “Give me a few minutes to grab the file from my cabin.”

“We’ll be at Kurt’s.” Dwayne hung up before Dylan could confirm, and he turned back to the other boys.

“I have to go,” he said. “Texas Parks and Wildlife showed up.” He tossed his paddle to Austin. “I was winning, so see if you can uphold the Royal family name.” He grinned at his brother, who looked so much like him they got mistaken for twins growing up.

Dylan’s hair was a little darker than Austin’s now, like his blond hair had been dipped in wood stain and left to dry. They both had a pair of blue eyes, but Austin’s were more the color of the sky while Dylan’s mimicked deep water.

He left his friend’s cabin and headed toward his own. After quickly retrieving the folder where he’d kept detailed records, with pictures, dates, locations, and actions taken, for the cattle they’d lost over the past year.

Whistling, he headed over to Kurt’s, where he suspected Shane had already gone, since their cabin was empty. He couldn’t quite imagine living in the cabin with just Austin, but with Shane’s wedding right around the corner, and Robin’s tiny house parked on a patch of property Levi Rhodes owned, his brother would definitely be moving out.

He heard Greta’s babble as he climbed the front steps, and he scooped the girl into his arms as she toddled toward him on the porch. “Hey, baby.” He laughed and started whistling again. His mother had always told him he should move to California and become a professional whistler for Disney.

“They need people to do birds for their animated movies,” she’d said, her face the animated thing in the room.

Dylan had always shrugged off her suggestion, knowing it wasn’t really what she thought. Who made a living whistling for cartoons?

But Greta loved his whistling and she started to sing along, her high-pitched baby babbles not really a harmony that matched. He didn’t care, and he danced with her the way he’d seen the princes and princesses do in those animated movies Disney made.

The little girl giggled and laughed, and Dylan cut off his whistling to join in.

“Can I cut in?”

The definitely female pitch made Dylan freeze, almost giving Greta whiplash. He turned around to find a woman lifting her long, long leg to the top step of the porch and then coming to rest, a brilliant smile on her tanned face.

She wore jeans that seemed to go on for miles before they covered a pair of dark brown cowgirl boots. Her pink and black plaid shirt was tucked in, revealing curves that made Dylan’s throat dry.

She had dark hair flowing over her shoulders but pinned back from her face so her stunning dark golden eyes could glint at him in what he could only define as flirtatious.

Impossible.

Though he didn’t know who she was, she hadn’t shown up on the ranch to flirt with him, a cowboy whose best friend happened to be a twelve-month-old baby.

“You’re a great whistler,” she said when he stood there, mute. “The dancing could be improved, but considering you have to hold your partner up, I’d give it a six.”

“A six?” His eyebrows went up, and he glanced down at baby Greta. “I think we deserve a ten, don’t you?”

The girl said nothing, simply stared at the imposter on the front porch. Dylan glanced at her too. “Are you from Texas Parks and Wildlife?”

She gave a little curtsy that sent Dylan’s pulse into a frenzy. Her limbs were long, and a smattering of freckles dusted her cheeks and nose. Her smile was quick, with white teeth showing through, and it might have been because Dylan hadn’t seen an available female in months, but he really wanted to know everything about this woman.

“I’m Hazel Brewster,” she said. “I heard you have a wolf problem, and I’m here to help you with that.” She spoke with a drawl that definitely didn’t come from Texas.

Dylan wanted her help with a lot more than the wolves stalking their cattle, but he kept that thought to himself. “Meeting’s in there.” He used Greta to gesture toward the cabin. “I guess we’ve just been waitin’ on you.”

Hazel stepped closer to him, the scent of her skin or her shirt almost making his eyes roll back into his head. She probably used shampoo called vanilla snowflake or something else that made entirely no sense, but in that moment, he didn’t care.

She smelled feminine, and floral, and fruity—with a hint of red, hot cinnamon—and he wanted to take a deep inhalation of her scent and hold his breath for as long as possible. Using those long legs, she moved past him and into the cabin, glancing over her shoulder to say, “I really do want to dance with you sometime,” before turning back and disappearing through the doorway.