"I thought you said it was my business."

"I lied. You are my business. I know you hate it when I say this, but honest to God, you're scaring me. This whole thing is scaring me. Things missing and horses hurt. You hurt. And now you're...I don't know what exactly, with Jake Rawlins. Your mortal enemy."

"One horse got hurt. And I don't think I was meant to. And as for Jake..." When she trailed off helplessly, not sure what to say, he just stared at her.

"I really don't like you all the way out here in the middle of nowhere with him."

"I'm home, Michael. And I'm not with Jake."

"You're not home. Not with him planning on selling this place from right beneath your feet."

She dug into the ice cream and tried not to think about that, or the confusion in her heart. "I'm going to be okay." She always was.

10.

The ranch had one full day before its next guests arrived-a group of professional cheerleaders looking for an exciting retreat atmosphere for a team-building experience.

Everyone used the day to catch up on chores. Eddie worked on the inside of the barn. He tried to move the soft, sweet, mewling puppies again, just so he could clean their area, but Tiger wouldn't allow them to be moved. Shep sided with her, and with resignation, Eddie worked around them all, giving the protective, possessive momma wide berth. Only when he accepted the situation did Tiger come close to him, tail wagging, butt wriggling, as she nosed up for some of the attention he'd been giving her every day. "She's aptly named," he told Callie.

Stone painted with Jake, talking nonstop in his usual cheerful manner. Tucker worked with the horses, once again quiet and brooding, making Callie figure he and Jake had already forgotten the paint-Callie incident.

All in all though, things were calm. At least until late in the afternoon, when Marge managed to run her finger beneath the sewing machine needle while repairing curtains in the big house. Callie was good with injured animals, but at the sight of Marge's finger and the blood spurting out of it, she felt faint. Amy was no help, either. She just stood there, mouth covered with her hands, eyes wide.

They were all just beginning to panic when Marge herself leaned out the window of the laundry room and yelled, "Problem!"

In two seconds flat, Jake was there with the others behind him. He pushed Marge to a chair, elevating her arm and applying pressure to the wound, calmly giving directions to everyone around him. "Amy, grab some towels. Eddie, get Lou to pull out the truck. Stone, the floor-"

"On it," Stone said and began to clean up.

Callie just sat and held Marge's other hand while Jake dressed the wound with supplies from the first-aid kit Tucker had gotten from the kitchen. She was careful not to look at the wound while reluctantly admiring Jake's cool composure under pressure.

Lou drove Marge into town for a doctor, leaving Callie and Amy hustling to get all the bed linens and towels changed and the house cleaned up. They stood over the dryer, folding the linens as they came out. Hot, tired, and sweaty, Callie rubbed her arm over her forehead. "I appreciate the help in here."

As usual, Amy's face was a study in seriousness. "Did you thank Stone and Eddie? And Tucker?"

"For what?"

Amy kept folding. "For doing their job."

"But this isn't your job."

Amy snapped a sheet in the air, then proceeded to fold it like an army drill sergeant. "It just so happens you needed a cook and I'm good at it. But I can do other stuff, too."

"It's been a while since I've had a thank you thrown back in my face." Callie smiled.

Amy didn't.

Callie sighed, and they continued to work in silence until she couldn't stand it anymore. "You've been here over a week now, right?"

Snap. Amy began to fold another sheet. "Yes."

"Do you like it?"

Amy didn't answer for so long that Callie stopped folding to look at her.

"I like it," Amy finally said.

"And everything is okay?"

Amy looked suspicious. "Why?"

Callie remembered coming to the ranch at about the same age, scared and alone, terrified she'd make a mistake and get kicked out. She'd have done just about anything to avoid that. "Look, I'm not trying to pry but you don't smile very much, and you're so quiet. Marge said she walked by your cabin the other morning when you were coming out and it looked like you hadn't unpacked your bag. I just want to make sure-"

"I'm good." And while she didn't exactly smile, she did look a little less rigid. "Really."

Callie smiled. "Okay, then." She set another folded set of sheets in the basket. "You don't have any reason to know this, but you could talk to me about anything. If you needed to."

"Like what?"

Like who put that haunted look in her eyes. "Anything."

Amy just kept folding.

Ten years ago Callie would have done the same thing, and no one could have convinced her to talk. So they finished folding in silence, and she released Amy from housekeeping duties to start dinner.

Jake showed up while Callie was making the beds. He helped as best as he could with one hand, which is to say he wasn't much help at all.

An hour later, in the last bedroom, he watched her from the other side of the mattress with heavy-lidded eyes as she smoothed out the spread. "We've looked at each other over a lot of beds today." He leaned over the bed, resting his weight on one arm, giving her a secret little smile. "You wanna...?"

"No," she said quickly.

"How do you know what I was going to say?"

"Okay." She folded her arms. "What were you going to say?"

He grinned. "You wanna lock the door and have your merry way with me?"

Her body tingled. Yes. "No. Double no."

He leaned in even closer, lightly tugging on the wayward strand of her hair that was forever escaping its band. "Did you know your pupils dilate when you lie?"

She threw a pillow at him, and he laughed. But he backed off, and when she was done she thought about that.

He walks away.

She thought about that the rest of the evening, through dinner, through visiting Marge in her cabin with her new six stitches, through talking to Stone and Eddie while they fed the animals. By that night she'd have thought she'd fall into bed exhausted, but instead she found herself uncomfortably wide awake and unable to sleep.

She kicked off her covers, pulled her jeans and T-shirt back on, and headed outside. A few cabins down, Lou sat on his front porch, nursing on a long neck. She sat next to him, tipped her head back, and eyed the stars. "You okay?"

"I went to Roger's for my final paycheck. When I got back here, Roger called. More tools are missing. They think I stole them while I was there."

"What? That's ridiculous."

"Yeah. But customers have been asking for me, wanting only me to work on their car. My guess is that Tony feels threatened. He wants to make sure I can't come back."

"Oh, Lou. What can I do to help?"

"Know a cheap attorney?"

She shook her head, and he shook his. "The truth'll come out," he said with a sigh.

"It will," she said fiercely, and hugged him, aching for both him and Marge.

Lou went back inside his cabin and Callie moved across the yard toward the big house and her office. Goose came running. "I don't have a snack," she said in apology, but patted the goose's head before moving on. Eddie sat on the back porch of the big house, smoking. Seemed it was a restless night for a lot of them. "Hey," she said. "What's up?"

He exhaled smoke and didn't look at her. "Don't ask unless you're up for more bad news."

"You get one of those girls you date pregnant?"

He laughed but shook his head.

"You going to jail?"

Another shake of his head but no laugh, and she sat down next to him. "I hate guessing games, Eddie. Just spit it out."

"I'm worried about Stone."

She absorbed that and tried to hide her alarm. "What's happening?"

"You've seen him. He's drinking like our dad. But he says he doesn't have a problem."

"And you think he does."

"I know it. I've lived through it before. I see the signs."

She rubbed her temples. "Okay. I'll talk to him."

"No." He stood and tossed his cigarette, grounding it out beneath his heel. "It'll just make things worse. It's going to have to go all bad before things change. Trust me, I know."

"You're talking about your dad."

He nodded and looked miserable, which was so unlike the usually upbeat Eddie that she wanted to hug him like she'd hugged Lou, but before she could, he walked off into the night.

With a bigger sigh now, she went to her office and pulled out her own problems, her personal files. She spread out the loan papers she'd been working on, and looked at the numbers that represented what she was worth. Not bad for a single woman. But for a single woman who wanted to buy a guest ranch, the situation couldn't be less promising.

With a disconsolate sigh, she switched to Blue Flame's books to catch up on some accounting. It was tedious, but she welcomed that, as it kept her mind busy.

Thirty minutes later, she frowned and stared into the petty cash box. Something was wrong. Two hundred and fifty dollars wrong. "Damn it." She readded, and yet still came up short. A little overwhelmed by the implications, she sat back, a terrible feeling deep in her belly. Someone had stolen two hundred and fifty dollars in cash, possibly someone she knew well and cared about deeply.

It was two in the morning before she finally slipped back into bed, and though she tossed and turned, she could come up with no answers. There hadn't been any guests around, at least not consistently. Their neighboring ranches weren't that close, nor did they have easy access. Granted, Shep wasn't that effective, but he did have some watch guard tendencies.

So who? Not quiet, brooding Amy. Not sweet Eddie. Not Stone, even with his drinking problems. Not Marge or Lou, with his ex-boss and his accusations. Not Tucker, who considered this place home. Despite his crazy youth, she'd trust him with her life. Definitely not Michael who, granted, had been around a lot, partly because he loved being out here with his friends, and mostly because he had the bad fortune to care about her too much. Not a crime in either case.

God. She was so damn tired her eyes were gritty. She needed sleep to think clearly. In a few hours, she thought wearily, turning over, punching her pillow. It would come to her in a few hours.

Once again Jake woke up to Tucker's foot cracking him in the back of the head.

"Oops," Tucker said, glancing back on his way to the bathroom. "Sorry."

"You're so full of shit your eyes are brown."

Tucker stopped short, then burst out laughing. He shut the bathroom door, the sounds of his laughter still ringing in the predawn air.

Jake rolled to his back and eyed the door, surprised. That was the first time since he'd gotten here that his brother hadn't slammed the bathroom door hard enough to rattle both the windows and Jake's bones.

That had to be a good sign, didn't it? And he'd laughed. He'd laughed a lot in the old days, when Jake had tickled him, or given him piggyback rides, or taken him for an ice cream cone with money they'd stolen from their mother's purse.

Did Tucker remember those times? Jake hadn't, not until he'd come here and seen how these people were a family, in the way he'd never been with anyone other than Tucker.

On that thought he fell back asleep, dreaming about his mother's call the other night, when she'd had the nerve to warn Jake not to drag Tucker into the gutter, as if he'd been the one to do so in the first place. He dreamed about running from Moe and Goose, both of whom leered at him in the dark, their faces turning into his father's....Then he was holding Callie again, sinking into her heat. She looked up at him with her heart in her eyes, smiling, as she slowly faded away into nothing, leaving him all alone.

He woke up, still alone, with the sun fully risen and the sounds of excited voices ringing through the yard.

Their next guests had arrived, which meant he'd need good luck to find someone to help him paint today. He showered and dressed, and picked up his cell phone. There he found Joe's latest text message.

You find yourself a sexy cowgirl yet?

"Yeah, I found one," he muttered to himself. Only he hadn't kept her, had he? Outside there were two large airport vans and a bunch of young, perky women milling around the yard, with enough bags and suitcases to boggle the mind.

Callie stood in the middle of it all with a welcoming smile and a clipboard, checking names. She wore jeans-big surprise-and a bright green tank top with her cowboy hat hanging down her back. Her fiery hair flew around her face in the light morning breeze as she directed her show.

She belonged here.

Tucker came out the front door of the big house. He dove right into the organized chaos and grabbed two armfuls of suitcases, nodding to Callie when she pointed out who they belonged to, and led a group of the women inside.

He belonged here, too.

Jake didn't. He didn't know where the hell he belonged.

"Hello."