“You’ve done so much already. Thank you.”

“See you Sunday morning at nine in the dining room.” Renner and Tierney took off.

“We’ve gotta get goin’ too,” Celia said.

Tanna hugged her. “Thanks for everything.” She turned and hugged Kyle too. “What time do the festivities begin tomorrow?”

Kyle scratched his jaw. “Eight if you wanna help round up the pairs. Ten if you just wanna jump in on the branding portion.”

“Need me to bring anything?”

“Just a big appetite, because there’ll be a ton of food,” Celia said.

“And a big stick to beat off the single cowboys, ’cause, darlin’, they’re gonna be on you like white on rice,” Kyle said with a grin.

Tanna smirked. “Maybe I’ll take one or two for a tumble. Just to see how the local boys stack up to wild Texas men.” But part of her already knew one man in particular more than measured up.

Don’t think about him. What’s done is done.

After her friends left, Tanna brought everything inside and set about trying to make the place her own.

Chapter Three

August “Fletch” Fletcher stepped out of his blood- and shit-stained coveralls and kicked them across the concrete floor.

He grabbed the soap and scrubbed his hands and forearms until pink-tinged lather swirled down the drain in the oversized stainless steel sink. When his arms were clean, he washed his face and neck. He needed a shower but getting the dust and grime off from the day spent in pastures and barns would do for now. Grabbing a hand towel, he looked around the cavernous space that was his operating room.

The recovery stalls were empty. The chains and pulley systems dangled from the ceiling unused. He hadn’t performed any surgeries in here the last month—his mobile unit was equipped to handle most emergencies. He preferred to work on-site anyway. It was better for the animals, for the owners and for him.

Besides, he couldn’t keep an assistant for more than a month and had to beg and borrow one from his local colleagues. So it made more sense to send those types of surgeries to his colleagues anyway.

Fletch wandered down the hallway past his office and the lone exam room to the small reception area.

Cora, his longtime office manager, was gathering her things, getting ready to call it a week. The first year he’d hung out his solo veterinarian shingle, he’d advertised for a receptionist. Cora had taken one look at the stacks of files, paperwork overflowing his desk, and jumped right in, so he hadn’t bothered interviewing anyone else. That’d been nine years ago.

Now the woman was five years past retirement age, but if he even mentioned the R word to her, that sharp tongue of hers would slice off a layer of his skin. As good as Cora was at her job, Fletch was glad his practice kept him out of the office most days.

“So, are you in a better mood than when you got here late this morning?” she asked.

“I’m the boss. It’s my prerogative to be late. Maybe my mood was because I was running behind.”

He’d woken to an empty bed in the motel room across town. Normally he’d be relieved his hookup from the previous night had bailed, sparing him awkward morning-after conversation. But he was actually a little pissed off. He’d agreed to her no name rule only because he didn’t think she’d stick with it. After the intensity of their connection he definitely wanted to know more about her, and he’d lost the chance.

“Maybe your mood had something to do with you waltzing in wearing the same clothes this morning that you’d had on when you left last night?”

He laughed. “Possibly.”

“It’s not funny, Doc. I worry about you.”

“Why?”

“Because it takes more than just one night to find a good woman.”

Don’t get your back up. “What makes you think I’m looking for that?”

She peered at him over the tops of her glasses. “Because if you didn’t want that you’d never go out. You’d be content staying home by yourself. Which you are not. You are out all the time. If you’re not working—which you do, all the time.”

Fletch wanted to argue with her, mostly out of habit, but he refrained because he knew she was right. His options were getting more limited. There weren’t many single women working on the ranches that made up the majority of his business. Being a large animal vet had its own set of problems, mainly being on call and on the road. He didn’t have walk-in customers like in a regular veterinary practice where the job entailed neutering, spaying and keeping family pets healthy.

“The one last night must’ve had . . . some merit if you stayed all night with her.”

“She did.”

“So you’ll see her again?”

“I hope so.”

Cora smiled. “Good. Now, did you sign off on my vacation request?”

Dammit. If he admitted he hadn’t even looked at it, Cora would read him the riot act because she’d also know he’d merely moved the papers from his in-box into his bottom desk drawer. So he lied. “Yes, I did.”

Her eyes narrowed.

Before she asked specific questions, Fletch said, “You deserve a vacation, Cora. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The hard line of her mouth softened. “Such a charmer. Just like your father.”

Fletch grinned at her. Score one for diversionary tactics.

“I’ll see you Monday.” Cora’s helmet of gray hair disappeared beneath the plastic hairstyle protector she wore rain or shine.