But there was something about Heidi. Something that tempted him beyond what was reasonable. She wasn’t his usual type, but that didn’t make her any less…appealing. He was drawn to everything about her. She was unguarded and funny. She worked hard, was loyal to those she cared about and, right now, even drunk, she was sexy as hell.

He leaned in and lightly brushed his mouth against hers. The heat was instant, as was the need. She swayed again, and he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her.

The second he touched her, he knew he was lost. That wanting couldn’t be reasoned with, and he wanted her bad. Taking advantage of a woman who was drunk wasn’t his style, though. Besides, he had enough ego to want Heidi to know what she was doing when she came to his bed. He drew back.

Her eyes were wide and unfocused. She yawned. “That was nice, but I’m sleepy.”

Despite the painful throbbing in his groin, he smiled. “You’re not tired—you’re about to pass out.”

She waved one hand. “Tomato, tomahto.” She edged toward the bed.

He helped her. When she sat on the mattress, he pulled off her shoes. No way he was taking off her clothes, he thought. The hows and whys of undressing her weren’t a conversation he wanted to have.

She stretched out on the bed, and he covered her with the comforter. He kissed her forehead.

“You’re going to be in a world of hurt tomorrow,” he murmured.

“No. If I drink Glen’s secret mixture, I’ll be fine.”

“Want me to fix it?”

She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “’Night, Rafe,” she murmured, sounding half-asleep already.

He took that as a no. “’Night, goat girl.”

He walked out, leaving her door open. After using the bathroom, he left the light on so it would be easier to find in a few hours, then made his way to his own room. He was about to close the door when he heard a strange sound. Was Heidi sick already?

He stepped out into the hall and listened. The sound came again. He realized the source was downstairs. A cry. Not of distress, exactly, it sounded like…

His mother?

He flinched and hurried back to his room. After closing the door, he grabbed his iPod and shoved the buds into his ears, then cranked up the volume. Fool’s Gold was, as he’d always known, his own version of hell. A place where his mother made time with the guy who had ripped her off, and where Rafe couldn’t have the one who seemed to be the only woman he wanted.

* * *

RAFE HAD FALLEN ASLEEP close to midnight, only to be awakened about an hour later by the sound of rapid footsteps in the hallway. The bathroom door had slammed. He’d rolled over and gone back to sleep. His phone had beeped at him just before dawn.

He dressed quickly, then grabbed his boots and stepped into the hall. He knocked once on Heidi’s door.

“Go away.”

The voice was weak and full of pain.

He opened the door and saw a huddled shape in the bed. “I’ll take care of the goats this morning.”

“You don’t know how.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You have to sanitize everything.”

“I’ve seen you do it.”

Heidi shifted and one swollen, bloodshot eye peeked out from under the covers. The bit of skin around it was an uncomfortable combination of green and gray.

“What time did you stop throwing up?” he asked.

“I’m not sure I have.”

“I’ll deal with the goats,” he repeated.

“Thank you.” She collapsed back on the bed, then groaned. “Lars is coming.”

“Lars?”

“He trims their hooves.”

“I’ll handle it. Actually, Lars will handle it and I’ll supervise. I like watching other people work.”

“Thank you. I’m probably going to die later.”

“Sorry, no such luck. You’ll wish you were dead, but you’ll make it.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

He wondered how much she remembered from the night before, and figured, even if she recalled begging him to kiss her, she would pretend she didn’t.

“Try to get some sleep,” he told her. “I’ll milk the goats and deal with Lars.”

He stepped out of her room and went downstairs. As he passed through the kitchen, he heard soft laughter from the direction of Glen’s bedroom. Being a regular kind of guy, he kept his head down and walked faster. No way he was having that conversation with his mother. At least, not before coffee.

He headed for the goat house and found the goats waiting for their morning milking. Athena’s ears flicked back and forth when she spotted him, as if she’d already guessed there was a change. Her eyes narrowed and she took a step back.

“It’s okay,” Rafe reassured her. She didn’t look convinced.

He washed his hands, then collected the supplies he would need. After everything was set up, he walked toward Athena. She glared at him and stepped to the side, obviously torn between the need to be milked and the fact that he wasn’t Heidi.

The other goats watched. If Athena went easily, they would follow. If she didn’t… He decided not to think about that.

The door pushed open a little and the three cats strolled in. They trotted toward him, mewing in anticipation. The gray cat wound around his ankles, leaving a coat of light-colored hair on his jeans.

“Nice,” he told it.

The cat blinked at him, then purred.

The rumbling sound was loud, yet relaxing. Athena flicked her ears again, then stepped into place, by the short stool.

“All hail the cat,” Rafe murmured, and put on fresh gloves. He sat on the stool, wiped Athena’s teats with disinfectant and went to work.

Five minutes later, he was willing to admit that milking was harder than it looked when Heidi did it. Athena kept glancing at him, as if wondering why she had gotten stuck with the inept human, but finally he finished. The next goat took her place, and so on.

When they were all done, he gave the cats their share, then propped open the doors, so the goats would have the run of the large yard. Usually, Heidi took them to different parts of the ranch to feed on the wild plants, but with the hoof guy coming, Rafe decided to keep them close.

He made sure they had water, then took the milk inside and stored it in the extra refrigerator in the mudroom. He grabbed a quick breakfast, mercifully avoiding his mother, before heading back out to get Ethan’s guys working on the fence line.

Shortly before nine, a battered red truck pulled in next to the goat house. The guy who climbed out was a big bear of a man, with blond hair, a light-colored beard and the kind of muscles that could double for roof supports.

“You must be Lars,” Rafe said as he approached.

Lars frowned. “Where’s Heidi?” he asked in a thick accent.

“She’s not feeling well this morning and asked me to make sure you had what you needed.”

“But I see Heidi.”

Rafe couldn’t tell if Lars wasn’t all there or simply determined.

“Usually, yes, but she’s sick. The goats are here.” He pointed to the gate, where Athena had come to investigate.

“Who are you?” Lars asked, as he collected a wooden toolbox filled with files and what looked like odd scissors, along with jars and brushes.

“Rafe Stryker.”

“You’re with Heidi?”

There was a complicated question. “I’m staying here for now.”

“With Heidi?” Outrage added volume to the question.

Rafe leaned against the fence and allowed himself to smile. “Yes, with Heidi.”

Lars’s face reddened and his tire-size hands curled into fists. The man was a good five or six inches taller and probably seventy pounds heavier than Rafe. He knew he could handle himself in a fair fight, but against a mountain? Then he shrugged. What the hell. He’d beaten worse odds in his life.

But Lars didn’t attack. Instead, his shoulders deflated and he reached for his toolbox.

“I see the goats now.”

* * *

HEIDI INHALED CAUTIOUSLY. May had something baking in the oven, and while normally the smell of cake would make her day, this afternoon she wasn’t sure even the most delicious of aromas was safe.

She’d stopped throwing up sometime before dawn, but it had taken until close to noon for her to decide that maybe she wasn’t going to die. Sometime around ten, Rafe had appeared with weak tea and toast. The man had simply left the plate and mug, then backed out without speaking. Something for which she was grateful. Last night was very much a blur, but she did have one distinct memory. That of her telling Rafe he could kiss her.

Because feeling like roadkill wasn’t punishment enough. She also got to be humiliated. Talk about not fair.

She crossed the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. The first sip of the dark liquid went a long way toward restoring her belief in a brighter tomorrow, although the pounding behind her eyes didn’t lessen. Maybe if she moved very, very slowly. She vowed she would never be this stupid again and, if she was, next time she would wake up her grandfather, regardless of the hour, so he could fix her his magic remedy.

“You’re up!”

The bright, cheerful, loud words made her jump. Her headache turned into a vise grip, and she had to hold in a whimper.

Heidi turned and tried to smile at May. “Yes. I’ve decided I’m going to make it.”

“You must have had quite the night.”

“I guess.” She glanced toward the window. “I didn’t drive home, did I?”

“No. One of your friends brought you. Glen and Rafe went into town to get your truck. They should be back in a little while.” May took her by the elbow and led her to the kitchen table. “You should sit down. You’re still a little gray.”

“I feel gray,” Heidi admitted, grateful she wasn’t at risk of having to face Rafe anytime soon. “Too much tequila.”

“At least you had fun.”

“I hope so. I don’t remember very much.” She’d been with her friends, and Rafe had been on his date. That had upset her—well, that and the fact that he’d kissed her. It was more the one-two punch of events than either on its own.

She glanced at May. “Did I wake you when I came in?”

May blushed, then hurried toward the pantry and pulled out a loaf of bread. “I didn’t hear a thing. Rafe mentioned you had a difficult night, though.”

Heidi winced as she remembered puking up her guts. “Let’s just say, whoever told me alcohol really is a poison wasn’t lying.”

May popped a slice into the toaster. “You’ll get better today. Hydrate. That will help.”

Heidi nodded, even though the thought of facing a glass of water made her want to gag.

“It’s nice that you have friends here,” May said as she poured Heidi more coffee. “I’ve met a few of the women I used to know, from when we lived here before. So many of them stayed. I envy them that.”

She returned the carafe to the stand and looked out the window. “I never forgot the view from this sink. How I could watch the changing of the seasons.” She glanced at Heidi and smiled. “I was raised in the Midwest. When we first moved here, I couldn’t get over how tall the mountains are. How beautiful. After my husband died, I knew I didn’t want to be anywhere else. Money was tough, but we had this house and the town.”

Heidi’s head had cleared enough for her to be able to follow the conversation. “Rafe mentioned the man who owned this land, Mr. Castle, promised you would inherit it.”

May nodded. The toast popped. She set the slice on a plate and lightly buttered it, then carried it over to Heidi.

“He did. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but he was a mean old man. I believed him and trusted him, and in the end, lost it all. When he died and it turned out he’d left the ranch to a relative, I was devastated. I had to move. I probably should have stayed in Fool’s Gold, where I had friends, but I was humiliated.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

May settled across from her. “I know that now, but at the time, I couldn’t get past the fact that Mr. Castle

had taken advantage of me. I’d lost my husband a few years before, and then the ranch. So we moved and started over.”

Heidi nibbled the toast. Her headache was a little better. Unfortunately, without the distraction of the throbbing, she was able to imagine May’s plight more easily. Four little kids, no home, no money. Talk about desperate.

“You must have done something right. Look at your children.”

May laughed. “They are wonderful, and while I want to take all the credit, they did a lot of it themselves. Rafe went to Harvard.”

“I saw the picture.”

“Shane works magic with horses. He breeds them and he’s working on his own herd. Clay…”

Heidi reached across the table. “I know about Clay. He’s very successful.”

May’s eyes danced with humor. “Rafe doesn’t approve, so I try not to talk about Clay around him, but I think it’s funny. My son, the butt model. He does well for himself, though.”

“Which is part of what pisses off Rafe.”

“True.”

The timer went off. May walked to the stove and pulled open the oven. She drew out the cake, then shook her head as she surveyed the uncooked side. “Oops. I forgot to turn it.” May spun the pan and reset the timer. “This old place. It needs a lot of fixing.”

“A new oven.”

“A bigger hot-water heater.”