"We'll go around the high canyons instead of through them." She smiled. "They'll definitely be drinking by then, and I don't want to lose anyone over the edge."

He shook his head and took her hand. "I can handle this, Cal."

"Of course you can. I just need to get outside, that's all."

"We both know why you're offering, and it's not for you to get outside."

"Does it really matter, Stone?"

He stared at her hand in his for a long moment. She expected an argument. Instead he sighed and pulled her close in a tight hug.

She hugged him back, and closed her eyes. God, she loved these guys, every last one of them. If Jake sold to someone who didn't want to keep them all on- Footsteps and voices sounded just outside, and Stone pulled back to look into her eyes. "Thank you," he whispered, and kissed her, right on the mouth. He grinned just as Eddie and Tucker entered the barn. "And that's how you revive the cow if she stops breathing."

Eddie and Tucker stood there gaping. "Why are you kissing Cal?" Eddie demanded.

Stone smiled at Callie. "Because she's pretty damn cool."

"Oh." Eddie blinked. "Well, I want to kiss her, too."

Tucker shoved him, then came closer. "What's going on?"

Stone looked at Callie, his heart in his eyes. He didn't want them to know, and she wouldn't be the one to tell them. "He was showing me cow resuscitation techniques," she said primly. "And he'll be happy to show either of you, as well. But hurry, because we've got to get these college studs out on the trail if we want to get there before dark."

Tucker stared at her for a long moment, then at Stone, but he didn't say another word while they saddled up the horses. A little bit later, Jake met them outside, his hands shoved in his jeans pockets. "You're going?" he asked, reaching out to help her lift a saddle.

"Don't." She shouldered him away. "You'll hurt yourself."

He pulled back with the irritated look of a man used to taking over, used to being in charge, a man who kept forgetting he no longer could do that. "The weather is going to turn bad."

She glanced at the admittedly cloudy sky and shrugged. "That's part of the life out here."

"No, I mean really bad."

She strapped on the saddle. "How do you know?"

"My ribs hurt."

Her fingers went still on the horse. "I didn't know you'd hurt your ribs in your fall."

"Not that fall. I broke four of them in another fire, several years ago."

"Rescuing someone?"

"A staircase gave way while I was trying to get to a woman on the floor beneath me."

"What happened to her?"

"I got her out."

"With four broken ribs?"

"And a gash on my head." He put his finger on the inch long scar above his left eye. "There's a storm coming, and it's going to be a wet one. Trust me."

"We can't cancel, the guys are too excited. And anyway, a little rain never bothered me."

"Thought you'd say that." He squinted at the sky, then sighed grimly. "I'm coming, too."

"Fond of getting rained on, are you?"

"No. I'm fond of you." And upon delivering that shocking statement, he walked away, calling out to Eddie to say they needed one more horse.

Fine. Who was she to argue with the man? But she stepped close to Sierra and hugged her, needing the contact. "He's fond of me, damn it."

Tucker had just finished packing up the horses when he saw Amy walking toward him with a bag in her arms. Her dark hair glinted in the sun. She wasn't smiling, but he found himself wanting to at just the sight of her.

He'd never had much of a problem in the female department, but this woman was different, and though extremely resistant, he couldn't seem to help himself. He wanted to know her more.

"Here's the last bag. I added some popcorn for the bonfire tonight," she said.

"Thanks." He took the bag, touching her fingers with his as he did. He took it as a good sign when she didn't jerk away or slam him to the ground. "I've got all your directions." He patted his pocket. "You didn't ask me to make the carrots pretty or anything, right?"

"Not this time. But you do have to be careful with the chili-"

"I can handle it." Probably. "Trust me."

She just looked at him, and it was the oddest thing, but just looking right back at her somehow broke his heart. There was just something about her, something about her eyes, her tough attitude and soft center. He really did want to know her, and he had to say, it was unusual not to have that feeling returned.

She wore her black jeans and boots again. When she'd first come to the ranch, he'd figured they were all she owned, since she'd had only a small duffel bag. But she'd had a few paychecks now, and could have bought herself something else if she'd wanted. Maybe she was saving for a rainy day.

She leaned in past him and inspected the way he'd packed everything. Her hair fell forward, revealing the sweet spot on the back of her neck. She had a small tattoo of the sun there, and he winced as he reached out and touched it.

She jerked as if she'd been shot, and whipped around.

"Sorry." He lifted his hand in the air. "I was just thinking how that must have hurt on such a tender spot."

She put her hand to the back of her neck. "It was a long time ago."

"It's pretty. It is," he said when she arched a brow. "You are."

Now she let out one bark of a laugh and turned to leave.

He moved in front of her. "So how long ago could it have been? You're only...what, eighteen?"

"Six years."

"Jesus." He whistled softly. "What kind of a mother let her daughter get a tattoo at twelve?"

"The dead kind."

Ah, man. He was an idiot. An idiot with a big old boot in his mouth.

She started adjusting the pack on the horse, even though they both knew he'd done a fine job. "Don't say you're sorry," she said when he opened his mouth. "I was just a baby when she died. I never knew her."

"Who raised you?"

"My dad." She shrugged and shifted some of the food around. "Sort of."

He put a hand over hers. "Sort of?"

"He wasn't around all that much."

"And now?"

"And now...he's still not around that much." She pulled her hand from his and put the horse between them. "He's a trucker."

An angry one, Tucker guessed, and very carefully he stepped around the horse and closer to Amy. "It must have been rough for you without a mom."

"Stop it." She moved back a step, her breathing coming out a little too quick. "I don't want your pity."

"It's not pity I'm feeling."

She searched his expression with a scowl, and he purposely put an easy smile on his face when what he really wanted to do was touch her. Hug her. But she was on the edge of panic over revealing too much, over his nearness, pick one. "Going to miss me while I'm gone?"

She gaped at him as if he were crazy.

He offered her a hopeful smile.

She shook her head, but if he wasn't mistaken, suddenly there was a small little sparkle of good humor lurking in her dark eyes.

"I'm not that bad of a guy, Amy. Maybe you could even give me a try sometime."

She looked at him for a long, long moment. "Maybe." And with that shocking word, she turned and walked away, leaving him staring after her.

"See you when I get back!" he called out.

Without looking back, she lifted a hand as if to say yeah, yeah, whatever, but still, a hopeful grin split his face.

They rode all day. The Dragoons were a maze of yawning crevices, abrupt precipices, and granite spires. Boulders the size of the ranch's barn were balanced with smaller rocks, sprinkled across steep hillsides from which deer, raptors, snakes, and coyotes made their home. On the valley floor lay wheaten grasslands, dotted with bush and huge oaks wide enough to conceal whole packs of coyotes.

Above them the skies churned and burned, going from blue to slate, and then nearly black, but not a drop fell. If it had started to rain, Callie might have been able to turn them back, but the guys were into it, and she had to admit, it felt good to ride.

By noon, seven of the eight Washington State students had hit on her.

She took each come-on in the same manner, that is, with great amusement. Smithy was the most aggressive one, the twenty-one-year-old basketball star and all-around God's gift to women-just ask him. He didn't like being turned down, and afterward, when Callie had said no to him-twice-he made a point of riding the fastest and being the most outrageous. He pretty much toed the line on everything they did, leaving her with the urge to throttle him.

"There's one in every group," Eddie said in disgust after lunch, when Smithy had tried jumping his horse, Tongue, over a small creek. Tongue-named for his love of licking everything-ran along with Smithy as asked, until his hooves got wet. Then he stopped so short that Smithy sailed over the top of him, landing in the water.

He'd been furious, made all the madder when his buddies howled with laughter. But his fury hadn't matched Callie's. With steam coming out her ears, she'd started forward but Eddie and Tucker had each put a hand on either of her shoulders, holding her back until she calmed down. When she'd swallowed most of her anger, she had a long talk with Smithy, and only after threatening to send him back with Eddie, did he apologize and promise to be good.

"You always have this problem?" Jake asked after they'd continued on the trail.

"Which? Leading idiots, or dealing with the ridiculous come-ons?"

"The come-ons, mostly."

"No," she admitted. "Never."

"Please."

"Seriously, I don't. It's not that often we get a group of single males like this." She shot him a wry glance. "They usually bring their own women."

He frowned. "Funny."

"I thought so."

"So tell me why I feel like smashing some heads."

She studied the darkening sky. Jake had been right, they were in for a doozy of a storm. "They're just stupid kids."

"They're not much younger than you, and I can't see you ever acting like this."

"You know me well enough to make a statement like that?"

"Yes," he said boldly. "Just like you know me. Whether we like it or not."

They rode in silence for a while along the valley floor, surrounded on either side by towering canyon walls and wild, spinning clouds. They began to hear thunder in the distance, but still no rain. "I didn't want to know you," she finally said. "That way, when you left, I wouldn't care."

"Every day I think about leaving."

"You can't wait to go."

He looked at her. "Most of the time. But once in a while like now...I don't want to ever go."

She didn't know what to make of that, so she said nothing. They descended down to the valley floor, moving along on the dry riverbed.

Ahead of her now, Jake handled his horse well. He'd gotten quite proficient for a man who'd rather be moving of his own accord. He held his reins with authority, his body at ease in the saddle. He was definitely a chameleon, whatever he thought of himself, fitting into any different arena, no matter how foreign.

Eventually the last of the eight students, the only one who hadn't yet hit on her, fell in line beside her.

"Problem?" she asked him.

"Oh no." Wes grinned the grin of the wild and crazy youth. "This is great."

"Uh-huh." She lifted a brow. "Want to just cut to the chase?"

"Which is?"

"You have to come on to me. The others expect it. I know it, and you know it. You also know there's not a snowball's chance in hell you're getting anything the others didn't. So whatever line you've come up with, how about you just save it for another woman?"