Any flash of amusement fled Callie's chest. When she glanced over at Tucker, she could tell he felt the same.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I smelled the food and lost my head. I was just going to say that you're my new best friend."

"You grabbed me." The words were muffled behind Amy's fingers.

"Yeah. I was going to hug and kiss you, actually. Good food does that to me." He tried a grin that tugged at Callie's heart because she realized she didn't see him smile all that often.

Amy nodded, looking like she wished a hole would swallow her up. "I'm sorry."

"We can put a bell around his neck," Callie offered, trying to lighten the tension for Amy's sake. She hated the pink glow of humiliation on the girl's cheeks. "I've been tempted before now to do so, believe me."

"A bell would be good." Amy turned her back and studied the casserole dish steaming right in front of her. "Did I hurt you, Tucker?"

He rubbed his jaw and eyed the petite Amy. Clearly he couldn't figure out how to proceed. If he said she hadn't hurt him, she might doubt herself next time when it came to self-defense. But if he admitted to being hurt, that would stab at his stupid male pride, and maybe make Amy feel even worse.

Plus, the "sorry" had been uttered through Amy's teeth, and sounded so insincere it might have been funny, if anything about this had been funny.

"Don't worry, Amy." Callie looked at Tucker. "I don't think you could hurt this lug." To show it, she knocked her knuckles against his head. "See? Hard as a brick."

"Which I heard yours is as well." Tucker muttered at her beneath his breath.

Amy's shoulders remained rigid.

"I'm sure if you feed him quick," Callie said. "He'll forget all about it."

Tucker nodded. "The key is the quick part."

Amy let out a sound that so perfectly conveyed her disgust with the entire male race, Callie laughed.

Happy just to get fed, Tucker reached for a plate and a fork, which he handed over to Callie. Then he grabbed a platter for himself, blinking innocently when Amy finally turned to him with a spatula. She gave his huge makeshift plate the once over.

He smiled hopefully.

Without a word she gave him a heaping serving.

"Thanks." But he waited until she looked up into his face to move aside. "Thanks," he said again softly, smiling.

Amy didn't smile back.

Apparently undisturbed, Tucker waited for Callie to get a plateful, then gestured her outside. "I need to talk to you." He held open the back door for her.

"Jake told you what happened," she said when they sat on the small porch step.

"Yeah. You okay?"

Sure, if she discounted a mother of a headache. "Better than poor Sierra. Who did it, Tucker? Who would have done such a thing?"

"I haven't a clue, but it wasn't that girl in there. No way." Tucker shoveled in food at an alarming rate. "It could have just been a stupid mistake."

"Yeah," she said, unconvinced.

"We've got two others things as well."

"Good or bad?"

He chewed and considered. "Bad and badder."

"Terrific. Let's hear it then."

"The easier one first. We're short-handed today." This was said around a huge mouthful. When he swallowed, he stopped talking to moan in pleasure. "Oh my God, this is better than sex."

Callie lifted a brow, refraining from pointing out that he was barely twenty, how much could he really know about sex? But though she felt ages older than he at times, truth was, he probably knew more than her about the matter. "Short-handed?"

"Stone's hungover."

That Stone'd had too much to drink the night before was nothing new. He was Eddie's younger brother and hadn't outgrown his party years yet. But it had never affected his work before. The unsettled feeling in the pit of her belly grew. "How is that an easy problem?"

"Trust me, compared to the other thing, it is."

"Oh, God, Tucker, what else? You and Jake had problems last night?"

"This has nothing to do with him. Who can we call to fill in for Stone, someone who can help us handle a big group? I asked Lou, but he's got something he has to do in town."

"How about Michael? I can see if he wants to play hooky from work today. Remember how much he loved filling in for us when we needed another guide a couple months back?"

"He told me last night he had a busy day."

"He partied with you and the guys?"

"Not as hard, but yeah. Waxed poetic all over you, too."

"Tucker, we're just friends."

"You're just friends."

Callie sighed. She loved Michael like a brother. He was always there for her, they had fun together, and actually, he'd introduced her to her ex-husband-a fact she didn't hold against him.

Michael was her sounding board, her rock, and if a small part of her suspected he felt more for her than mere friendship, she didn't have to face it as he'd never mentioned it, especially not after what had happened between her and Matt. "How about Jake? He can help."

Tucker snickered. "Yeah, right."

"Tucker...you've never said, and you don't have to, but-"

"But what's the bad blood between Jake and me?" Tucker stared morosely out at the yard. The chuck wagon they sometimes used on camping expeditions lay near a tree. There were a series of benches lining their vegetable garden, which had begin to thrive with the early spring. "It's all too old to even give it the time of day," he finally said.

"So you can work with him, if it comes to that?"

"Hell, I'm living with him, aren't I?"

"I'm sorry about that."

"Not as sorry as I am, believe me. But as for the work...He won't want to. It's not his thing. He says he hates camping, hates the desert. Needless to say he hates it here."

"Then why is he here?"

"Why don't you ask him directly?" Jake asked from behind them. "And how do you know what my thing is? Neither of you have bothered to ask me."

With her fork halfway to her mouth, Callie glanced at Tucker, who'd also stopped eating.

Jake let out an annoyed sound as he moved between them down the steps. "Christ, there's some serious chips on some serious shoulders around here. How's the head and ribs?" he asked Callie.

This wasn't a polite question, it was a demand, by the man who'd seen her in her bra only an hour before. She reminded herself he'd seen her in far less. "They're fine."

"You find out what brainless idiot was messing around in the barn?"

"No."

"Me either." He still looked so serious, and somehow more intense than she'd ever seen before. Also the firefighter side of him, she guessed. In any case, it was startlingly, unexpectedly attractive, and she swallowed her last bite of breakfast with extreme difficulty. Then smiled weakly. "How about you? How's your shoulder?"

"Fine."

"Yes, but..." She trailed off at the closed look on his face. Men and their stupid pride. She supposed she was one to talk, when she herself had more than was good for her. "You're not fully healed. I figured if the injury took you out of firefighting, it would take you out of ranching, too."

He rolled his neck, then stretched his shoulders. And winced, gingerly putting his left hand to his right shoulder. "It might."

Tucker let out an obnoxiously loud sigh, as if he didn't believe Jake could really be hurting.

Jake glanced at him. "What's your problem?"

"How do you know I have one?"

"Maybe because it sounds like your head gets a flat every time I so much as look at you."

Callie had no siblings, though she'd always dreamed of a big, older brother to beat the crap out of anyone who bugged her. But in her dreams, she and this fantasy brother always got along, no bickering.

She had a feeling Jake and Tucker didn't dream about the same kind of relationship.

"What is it?" Jake pressed Tucker. "What's eating at you?"

Tucker stood up. "I already told Callie. There aren't enough hours in the day to discuss it." He stacked his plate on top of Callie's empty one, then brushed past Jake.

"Hey, wait," Callie called. "What's problem number two? The bad one?"

Already ten feet away, Tucker swore, then turned back. "Unless you moved them, someone's stolen all of the serum we were going to use tomorrow to inoculate the herd."

"What?" Callie set the plates down beside her and stood up, managing not to grimace at the ache in her ribs. "They're not in the barn refrigerator?"

"Nope."

"But they can't just have vanished..." Her words trailed off at Tucker's grim nod.

"Maybe it was the same person who messed with Sierra," Jake said, frowning. "Has anything like this happened before?"

"No," Callie said. "Never." They'd need to call the police and make a report. Damn it. "Bring Stone some coffee and tell him to suck it up. I don't care how hung over he is, we're going to need him."

"Yeah." Tucker stalked off.

Callie started to calculate how many hundreds of dollars they could be out if Tucker was right and the serum was gone, when Jake stirred, reminding her she wasn't alone.

"You should cancel the incoming guests," he said.

"No. They're paying big bucks."

"You're not ready for guests, not with this shit going on."

"We're ready."

"Look, if a bunch of businessmen want to play at being cowboy bad enough to come all the way out here to Nowhere, USA, then they'll be willing to wait a week. We can use the time to start fixing stuff up. Cheap stuff though." He scratched his jaw. "Really cheap. Like painting. The barns look like crap."

"We're booked next week, too."

"So they'll wait-"

"No, they won't, Jake. If you want to make money-"

"You know I do."

"Then the show goes on. This is our job, our life, and it means everything. Everything," she said, knowing she was standing on her own personal soapbox, but the emotions of the day were showing and she couldn't help it. "I don't know if you can understand that, but-"

"Hey. Hey, slow down, I was just-"

"I know." She shook her head. "I just thought that given how this place was left to you by your father, it'd mean something to you."

"We've been over that," he said tightly.

"Right. You didn't like Richard. You don't care about this place."

"I care about how much it's worth. Which is nothing if we don't have guests in here. I care about keeping all of your jobs available to you, even after I'm no longer here. I care about a hell of a lot, Callie, so don't tell me what I feel."

"Fine." Angry, frustrated, hurt-and not really understanding why-she moved down the stairs. She was so full of conflicting emotions it took her a moment to realize the decibel level of barking.

She followed the barking around the back of the house to the basement entrance. It wasn't Shep barking, though he stood there.

Or sat anyway, because Shep was twelve and he never stood when he could sit, and never sat when he could lie down. Tongue hanging out, he happily panted at the mud-colored brown dog next to him, which Callie had never seen before.

She was a good-sized dog, too, despite being so malnourished. Still, it wasn't her size that stopped Callie from going into the basement, but the bared teeth and menacing growl she let out between ear-splitting barks, now aimed right at Callie herself.