Colt pulled his truck up outside the address he had written down. This was the spot where he’d seen the little blue Volvo speed off the day before; the Volvo now sat in the driveway, unmoving.

Ahh, he thought. Maybe the new veterinarian has a need for speed… and little in the way of peripheral vision.

He turned off the engine, listening to it settle. The classic red 1968 Ford F-100 was his baby. Having a truck around to haul trailers and equipment was essential on a farm, but it also proved useful in other ways.

Leaving the keys in the ignition, he got out of the truck. He checked out the house, which was one of the older rentals in town. It was one-story, with an oddly flat roof and a postage stamp-sized lawn. The house was maybe yellow once, but was now so sun-bleached that it was impossible to know for sure.

He walked up to the front door. The second his boots hit the concrete, a clamoring of dogs made their presence known inside the house.

He stopped, his brows shooting up.

He’d grown up around Catahoula curs, a local breed of dog. They were underfoot everywhere you went on Roman Ranch, always trying to help… and get some bits of human food in the process.

This wasn’t quite the same, though. The curs knew him, these dogs didn’t. A man with one foot missing knew better than most what he didn’t want to run from…

Blowing out a breath, he moved forward to knock on the faded blue door. Honestly, he was a little surprised that the vet hadn’t already come to see what the ruckus was.

He knocked on the door once, then again.

No answer.

He looked back at the Volvo in the driveway, then at the lights on behind the curtains.

What was he supposed to do, leave a note?

Colt heard a noise from the backyard. He walked around the house, and came upon quite a scene.

A woman with dark, waist-length hair wet from the shower, was trying to break into the house in nothing but a towel. The towel hid enough, but he could see the outline of her breasts, a goodly portion of each leg, the delicate but proud curve of her neck.

She was completely, utterly gorgeous. Her skin was beautiful, tan and without blemish. Colt thought she might be a mix of Mexican or Native American.

Whatever she was, she was hot. She was breathtaking, as a matter of fact…

She caught sight of Colt, and screamed.

“Whoa!” Colt said, holding up his hands and backing away. “I’m just here to help, uhh… with the veterinary office?”

The woman tried to pull the towel around more of herself, pressing a hand to her throat. She looked panicked. Her face was bright red with embarrassment; Colt felt a little bad for checking her out a second ago.

Damn, though.

“I— That is, I’m locked out,” she confessed. Her accent was local, he could tell that much. He lowered his hands.

“I could take a look at the door, if you want,” he offered. “Not that my lock picking skills are really on par, or anything…”

She gave him a long look, then backed away from the door.  

“Um, I’m Colt Roman, by the way,” he said, looking at the door.

“Rose,” she said, looking around nervously. “Rose Elliott.”

“You must be the new vet, then,” he said, keeping his eyes on the door.

“Yeah.”

He glanced over at her, saw that she was still painfully embarrassed. “Let me get something out of my car to jimmy the lock with.”

Her mouth turned down at the corners, but she just looked away and nodded.

Colt fetched two bobby pins that some girl had left in his truck. He hurried back and got down on one knee.

As he worked, he chatted, to keep things from getting too weird. Or, at least weirder than they already were.

“Is that your blue Volvo out front?”

She nodded, biting her lower lip, but didn’t answer.

“You almost hit me yesterday,” he said. “I’m the red Ford truck.”

“Oh. Uh… sorry,” she said.

He looked at her, and she visibly got more red. So he turned back to what he was doing. Within a minute, he had the door unlocked.

“You should fix that,” he said, nodding to the lock as he stood. “Anybody can get in.”

“Okay,” she said, starting to open the door. She paused, unsure what she should do. “Umm, thanks.”

“Wait—” he said as she started to close the door on him. “I’m supposed to help you with the renovations to the vet clinic.”

“Oh. Ummm… I’ll meet you there. In a few hours, I guess?” she said.

“Like… two? Three?” he asked.

“Two!” she said, then shut the door in his face.

Colt blinked. Jeez, and Sawyer thinks I’m careless?

He looked at his watch. Maybe he could go see his brother, grab a bite.

He went back around the house, setting off another frenzied barking session. Climbing back into his truck, he pulled out and drove the short distance to Sawyer’s house.

Sawyer was in the front yard, carrying Shiloh around. Colt parked and jumped out.

“Hiiiiiiii!” Shiloh said from his place riding on Sawyer’s back.

“Hey,” Sawyer said. “Remy needed some boy-free time.”

“Ahh. Where are you off to?”

“Diner. You wanna come?”

“Sure,” Colt agreed. “Hey, I met the new vet.”

“Oh yeah? Is he anywhere as mean as the old guy?”

“Uhhh…” Colt said. He considered telling his brother everything, then kept the conversation light. “It’s a she. She got locked out of her place, so I jimmied her lock.”

Sawyer’s brows lifted. “Oh yeah?”

“Come on, it wasn’t like that.”

Colt started across the street to the only restaurant in town, Roxie’s Diner. It was all chrome and red leather, inside and out, classic diner style.

“No?”

“No,” Colt said, shaking his head. “Although… she is worth looking at.”

“Ahhh, now the truth comes out.”

They entered the diner, saying hi to the eponymous Roxie. She was a five foot tall ball of energy, topped with bright red hair that couldn’t be achieved outside of a dye box.

“Hey boys,” Roxie said, blowing them a kiss. “Sit wherever you want.”

There was only one other seated table at this hour, though it got packed on weekends.

Sawyer let Shiloh slide down off his back. Watching him go was like watching a miniature version of his father running across the restaurant.

“It’s crazy how much like you he looks,” Colt said, following Sawyer and Shiloh.

“I know, I’ve got a Mini-Me,” Sawyer said, tickling Shiloh as he climbed into the booth of his choosing.

Shiloh screamed, and Sawyer shushed him a little.

“I know. It’s hard to believe that you didn’t know about… things… for so long,” Colt said as he and Sawyer sat down.

He was alluding to the fact that Remy had kept Shiloh a secret for the first four years of his life.

Sawyer cleared his throat and looked at Shiloh meaningfully. Colt shrugged and picked up a menu, even though he always ordered the same thing.

“People have their reasons,” Sawyer said, defensive of his wife.

“I was just kidding. Hey, Shiloh, are you gonna get pancakes?”

“One pancake,” Shiloh said somberly. “One egg, one sausage link.”

“Oh man, that sounds good.”

Roxie came over and took their order. Sawyer got a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich; Colt ordered the Greek omelette.

Roxie brought Shiloh crayons and a coloring book, and he was soon totally absorbed with his kindergarten artistry.

While Roxie was taking their order, the Jackson brothers came in. A few years older than the Roman brothers, the Jacksons were short, blond, and perpetually sunburned.

“Hey, Sawyer, Colt,” Greg Jackson said.

“Hey,” said Sawyer.

“How’d the rodeo go?” Colt asked.

“Good. We sold two broncos afterward, second and third place champions,” Will Jackson said, grinning.

They sat down at the next booth over, happy to chat about the horses they were selling this season, and what kind of prices the Romans should be expecting when they were ready to look at the horse market.

Colt’s attention drifted away. He’d heard all of this already, since he’d called Will out to look at one of the horses. Of course, now that there was a new vet in town…

He let his mind wander. Specifically, he found himself wondering what she liked, what kind of things he’d have to do to make her flush the same color as he’d seen earlier.

He imagined picking her up, stripping the towel from her body, and kissing his way down to a place that would make her moan…

“Saw the new vet on the way over here,” Greg said, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Oh yeah?” Sawyer asked.

Greg whistled low. “She’s a fox, tell you what. Little Indian princess.”

Colt looked at him sideways. That last bit was more than a little bit racist, which made him bristle.

Sawyer spotted his discomfort, and changed the topic before Colt could say a word.

“Colt saw her, too,” he said. “Said she’s worth looking at.”

“Yeah. I’d do her, but she probably ain’t into guys her own height,” Will said, looking bummed.

“Probably not guys missing some of their leg, either,” Colt muttered.

“I don’t know what y’all are talking about,” Greg said. “I think I’m just the kind of man she needs.”

Colt's fists tightened. He liked Greg, but for some reason his face was looking really punchable right now.

Luckily their food arrived just then, and the Jackson brothers turned around to give them privacy.

Colt dug into his breakfast, thinking about her. She wasn’t exactly soliciting that kind of attention or interest, but there it was.

She was four-alarm fire kind of hot. She certainly wouldn’t be interested in a busted up half of a soldier like him.

She could definitely get whoever she wanted, with no issues. She might even have a boyfriend, for all Colt knew.

One thing he was sure of was that he shouldn’t even be thinking that way. He rubbed his prosthetic under the table, feeling the familiar ridges between his shoe and where his leg started.

His fake leg might do okay with girls he went to high school with, or the pretty divorcees he liked. They sort of went for the hometown hero thing, and he… well, he dealt with it.

But it wouldn’t work with her. Or rather, he wasn’t even going to try.

No matter how breathtaking she might be…

“You okay?” Sawyer said.

Colt looked at him, and at Shiloh sitting beside him, demolishing the pancake. He felt a twinge of jealousy, mixed with sadness.

Maybe Sawyer’s road had been a twisted one, with lots of breakneck turns… but at least he’d had one.

Colt was never going to have that. Never.

He smiled, covering it all up. “Yep. Thinking about which of the mares to put to pasture.”

Sawyer nodded, distracted suddenly by what Shiloh was doing.

“Buddy…” he said, exasperated. He pulled out his napkin and wiped Shiloh’s face.

“I’m gonna finish all of it, Daddy!” Shiloh cried.

“Okay, let me help you…”

Colt pushed his plate back and watched them, wishing that his pang of envy would go away. He could hang with Shiloh anytime, and soon he’d have another one around to spoil.

That will be enough, he told himself.

He looked out the window, wondering if that was really true.