“No, neither have I. She’s good for him.”
“They are good for each other.”
They sat in silence, watching the middle-aged couple cross the porch, their quiet laughter carrying on the breeze. Dad held the screen door for his lady love.
“When do you think he is going to propose?” Addy tossed a lock of strawberry-blond hair over her shoulder, her big blue eyes full of mischief.
“How should I know? Like Dad tells me anything more than he tells you.” She clasped her hands together, wanting to say the blessing before her stomach imploded with hunger. She’d missed lunch.
“I think it will be soon. Just a guess. No, more like a wild hope.” Addy crunched on a potato chip. “I think Cady will make a good stepmom, don’t you?”
“The best.” She tried to close her eyes for the blessing, but her gaze zipped across the lawn to the house. Large picture windows looked in at the family room and gave a sliver of a view into the kitchen where Dad stole Cady’s plate, set it on the breakfast bar and pulled her into his arms. Tenderness radiated from their embrace. As their lips met, Addy sighed again.
“I don’t think Dad knows we can see him.” Cheyenne watched with interest. “We shouldn’t be spying.”
“If he doesn’t want us to spy on him, next time he should close the blinds.” Addy’s grin stretched from ear to ear, showing off the dimples she’d inherited from their father. “I think he’s getting serious.”
“I do, too.” She tried to look away, but the way her dad ended the kiss with reverence and tugged Cady against his chest, as if he cherished her above all else, made it impossible. Her father had never dated once in the seventeen years since their mother left. His heart had never recovered from the betrayal and his life had been too busy with the responsibility of raising five kids and running one of the largest ranches in White Horse County. He’d been lonely for so long.
Father, thank You for sending someone to love Dad. Thank You for sending Cady. She bowed her head, finishing the prayer with thanks for the blessings in her life, so very many blessings. She opened her eyes. Dad and Cady had stepped out of sight but the feel of their happiness remained.
“So, do you have tomorrow off for sure or not?” Addy chose another chip from the pile on her plate.
Before she could answer, a cow leaned across the wooden rails of the fence at the far edge of the lawn, pleaded with doelike eyes and gave a long, sorrowful moo.
“No chips for you, Buttercup, sorry.” Cheyenne grabbed the plastic bottle of relish and squirted it the length of her hot dog bun. “Addy, tomorrow I’m on call.”
“Bummer. You’re always on call.”
“That’s because there are two vets in a fifty-mile radius.” She traded the relish for the mayonnaise bottle and gave it a squeeze. “Nate is going to take the big animal calls, if there are any. I’m taking the small animal.”
“You look happy, too.” Addy licked barbecue seasoning off her fingertips. “It’s good to see. You must be over your broken heart.”
“Over it? I don’t even remember it.” That was what denial could do for a girl. She was the queen of denial. She could block out nearly any hurt, any heartache, any disappointment. In fact, she couldn’t even remember what had happened with what’s-his-name back in vet school. Broken heart? Her heart was just fine as long as she didn’t have to look at it. “I’m my own independent woman. What’s there not to be happy about?”
“That’s my view, too. Marriage, who needs it?” Addy reached to grab more chips from the bowl in the center of the table. “No man is going to tie me down with matrimony.”
“Me, either.” Her experience with romance had been enough to make her leery. She thought of how their mom had treated Dad and of every other person she knew who’d been disappointed by love. Her sister-in-law Rori’s first marriage hadn’t worked out, her soon-to-be sister-in-law Sierra’s husband had abandoned her with a small son to raise. She couldn’t help recalling Adam Stone’s sorrow, a shadow that remained even in full light.
She was a healer and knew some of the worst wounds were not physical. The type she did not know how to treat; she knew of no medicine that would heal them and yet injuries to the heart and spirit happened every day. They left scars in the most vulnerable places, marring the soul.
“Look at Dad.” Addy’s whisper vibrated with delight. “In front of us, he can barely even hold Cady’s hand. Like we couldn’t have guessed they were kissing in the kitchen.”
“He’s bashful,” she said because the truth bunched in her throat and she didn’t want to say those words and ruin the happy moment as Cady laughed gently. Buttercup let out another moo at not being invited to the picnic table and Dad called out to the cow in his tender, deep-noted baritone.
Dad’s wounds still affected him and made it tough for him to bare his vulnerable heart. If she looked past her own denial to how shattered she’d been when Edward broke things off with her, she felt similarly. Love that lasted and stood the test of years and hardship was rare. There was no way to tell ahead of time which relationship would endure and which would fail. That was why she was staying single for a long, long time.
Chapter Three
“Daddy, why are the cows in the road?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a cow expert.” Adam stopped in the middle of the country road, since he had no choice. The herd of black cows with snowy faces blocked both lanes. No way around them. He’d always thought cows were flighty and scattered easily but changed his mind as the herd lifted their heads unconcerned at the car’s approach. Not one animal shied or ran. On the contrary, the creatures stood their ground like living, breathing tanks.
“They shouldn’t be out of their pasture.” The click of a seat belt told him his littlest had unbuckled. Julianna poked in between the front seats, straining to see. “I don’t recognize any of them.”
“How many cows do you know?”
“The Grangers have tons of cows.” Julianna gripped the leather seats and levered herself over the console and into the passenger seat, her gaze riveted on the animals. “I know Buttercup and Jasmine and Daisy and—”
“I get the picture,” he interrupted before she could go on and name the “tons” of cows she’d been introduced to one by one. He glanced at the dashboard clock irritably. They were fashionably late, thanks to Jenny who had changed outfits more than half a dozen times before she was fit to be seen in public.
“Can I go say hi?”
“No.” He made sure the word boomed with authority. Under no circumstance was his little slip of a daughter walking up to those enormous and dangerous-looking creatures. One animal had horns sticking out of his head. That couldn’t be good. Adam hit the car horn in one long blast. Surely honking would startle them into getting out of the way.
Wrong. Instead of bolting, the cows focused on his car with pinpoint accuracy. Dozens upon dozens of brown eyes zeroed in on the newly waxed finish and plodded forward, as if mesmerized by the brightness. They created an impenetrable barrier across
