herself she was being foolish. She was just off balance, being out of her comfort zone, being with Shep and his boys again.
“We’ll get the shovels,” Joey told Raina as he and Roy headed into the barn.
After they were out of earshot, Shep asked her, “Did you have second thoughts?” His blue eyes demanded a straight answer, not a polite excuse.
“I did. But I’d made a promise.”
“Should I ask why you had second thoughts, or leave it alone?”
“You’re direct, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “I try to be. Life is complicated enough, without beating around the proverbial bush.”
When she hesitated before answering, he settled his hand on her arm. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”
She’d worn a short-sleeve blouse because of the early September heat. Shep’s long, calloused fingers were warm and sensual on her skin. When she looked up at him, she felt tongue-tied. It was an odd experience, because she usually wasn’t at a loss for words.
Finally, she admitted, “There are a lot of reasons why I had second thoughts.” The awareness between her and Shep wasn’t one-sided. She knew that now. She could feel his interest, and she wanted to run from it.
He released her arm and held up one finger. “The first reason is me.” He held up a second finger. “The second reason is me.” He held up a third finger. “And the third reason is probably me.”
“No ego there,” she muttered.
He laughed. “It has nothing to do with ego. I just figure— Hell, Raina. I know about your husband. I also know for the past six months you did everything you could not to make eye contact with me.”
“Manuel was my patient.”
“Yeah, I know that.”
“Well, you didn’t show any interest, either.”
“No, I didn’t. I pretended there wasn’t any, just like you did.”
“I wasn’t pretending,” she protested. “I wasn’t interested. I’m not interested. I loved my husband, and when I lost him—” She stopped. “I can’t ever explain what it was like—waiting and not knowing, waiting and hoping, waiting and waiting and waiting. And finally accepting, and having to deal with grief deeper than I’ve ever known.” She shook her head, struggling to maintain her composure. “I never want to feel anything remotely like it ever again.”
“I can understand that.”
She saw empathy in Shep’s eyes. Real empathy. He’d lost his parents, and she didn’t know who else he might have lost along the way. Maybe he knew, too, that nothing was forever…nothing lasted.
“I came because I made a promise,” she repeated.
A smile crept across Shep’s lips. “Then Roy was right to trust you.”
The way Shep said it, she had the feeling he didn’t trust many people. Because of the way he’d grown up?
“Roy and Joey don’t fight often. For a couple of years, all they had was each other.”
“For a couple of years?”
“When their parents were killed in an accident, they were put into the system. But being biracial, and being brothers, the system had trouble placing them. So they stayed in foster care.”
“Maybe the fact that they’re fighting means they don’t have to depend on each other quite so much, since they have you.”
“I’d like to believe that’s true, but they still hold back with me. Especially Joey. He likes to keep things to himself, and sometimes that causes him trouble.”
“Do you keep things to yourself?”
“Oh, terrific. My boys had to ask a smart lady to come to the ranch for a trail ride.”
This time she laughed. The scent of horses and the sun’s heat beating on old wood rode the corral air. Although Shep didn’t always say a lot, he was easy to talk to. He made her feel…safe. She’d returned to Sagebrush to feel safe, to be close to her mother and brother, to establish roots that had somehow slipped away on that terrible day in 2001. She’d felt safe in the Victorian with Gina, and now Angie. But not safe in this way. Not protected like this. She suspected Shep was a protector, and that gave her an odd feeling. Clark had been a protector, and because of that he’d died.
“You’re thinking sad thoughts.”
How could Shep do that? How could he know? “Not for long. As soon as your boys hand me a shovel, I’ll only be thinking about getting finished and going on that trail ride.”
Shep motioned her inside the barn. “Then let’s get started.”
The barn was old. Raina could tell that there were signs of it being refurbished—fresh mortar between stones on the walls was lighter gray and without cracks. Some of the wooden stall doors looked new, their catches and hinges shiny and untouched by time.
“How old is the barn?” she asked, realizing the boys were nowhere in sight.
“The buildings on the property date back to the 1850s.”
“You bought a piece of history.”
“That’s the way I look at it. That’s why I didn’t raze everything to the ground and start over. I liked building on what was here, making the old stand up to the test of time. Do you know what I mean?”
“I do. It’s nice to know something will last with a little help.” As she took in the stalls and the feed barrels, she asked, “Where are the boys and their shovels?”
Shep shook his head. “I know where they are. Come on.” He led her past the tack room, and when they rounded the corner, she saw Joey and Roy leaning over a pile of hay bales. The hay was stacked wide and high. But the boys were sort of in the middle of it, two bales up, peeking over the edge of one bale.
“Kittens?” she guessed.
Shep nodded, smiling. “You have been around barns. They wanted to bring them up to the house, but I told them the babies are still too little. They haven’t even learned how to climb out of their nest yet. Give them a few more weeks and they’ll probably be sleeping with the boys.”
“You sound resigned.”
He chuckled. “I know kids can get attached to animals. Pets can give them security, so I’m all for it.”
Without thinking twice, Raina climbed up the bale and sat next to Joey. She peered over the edge and saw a mama cat nursing four little ones whose eyes were barely open.
“They know where to go to eat,” Roy told her, as if that was important information.
Joey added, “Dad says we shouldn’t touch them until they climb out. Their mama wouldn’t like it.”
“Your
