because he didn’t want any strangers coming to his place unannounced.
He observed Laney as she walked down the lane behind Sam and two other little boys on bicycles. Her arm was entwined with that of a man whose face he couldn’t quite see.
Caleb’s mouth twitched in annoyance. Laney and the guy looked pretty friendly. It irritated him that he couldn’t see the guy’s face. If someone was around, anywhere near his place, he wanted to know who it was. He didn’t like surprises and he didn’t want unexpected company. He had avoided people since he’d moved to Sweetsilver and he fully intended to keep it that way.
* * *
LANEY DIDN’T KNOW what to do with herself. She had finished getting her turnouts and other gear ready for the coming fire season, worked in her yard, swept the kitchen, and showered and washed her hair, deciding to let it air dry, allowing the dark curly waves to do whatever they wanted. Sometimes she simply didn’t feel like fighting them.
She ate a quiet dinner then wandered around the house, missing Sam. She had a book to read, a suspense novel guaranteed to keep her interested and probably terrified until dawn. Or she could call her best friend, Sarah, to see if she wanted to go into Sierra Vista to see a movie, have a girl’s night out—something they hadn’t done in months.
None of those things appealed, though. She was too restless, too unsettled and, probably thanks to her brother’s words, thinking too much about Caleb Ransom.
He did intrigue her. He was closed off, said he didn’t want company or friends. He was scarred on the outside and doubtless on the inside, too, but because of the defensive wall he’d put up, she would never know the nature of his scars, never know him. For despite all good judgment, she sensed a need in him that drew her.
Laney couldn’t have said why she even cared. He didn’t want her around; not her or her son. He had his own life, his own business, and she had hers.
Thinking about him made her move to her kitchen window, which looked out onto his land. The late-afternoon sun slanted down, casting long shadows across his pasture.
So much of her mind hadn’t been taken up with a man since James Carson—and she hadn’t had a pleasant thought about him in years.
Laney doubted that Caleb was anything like James. No doubt he kept his promises, she thought as she gazed out the window dreamily, and carried through with anything he’d decided to do.
Taking in abused and abandoned horses was proof of his compassion, his abilities as a horse owner and—
His cattle were in her yard!
LANEY’S EYES WIDENED when she realized some of the shadows she’d been watching with gooey-eyed dreaminess were moving. In fact, they had abandoned their own grama and were trampling the flowers she’d planted and devouring the small area of lawn she was trying to coax back to life. She was determined that her plants would avoid the fate of her mom’s.
She turned to dash out the kitchen door, then remembered she was barefoot. She had put on a tank top and shorts after her shower, and now she yanked on the boots she’d left by the back door.
Allowing the screen door to slam behind her, she ran out waving her arms. “Get out! Get out!” How did you get in here?
The four cows didn’t even bother to lift their heads, since they were too busy feasting on her lawn. She tried slapping one on the rump. It took a couple of steps away from her then glanced back as if to thank her for directing it to a fresh patch of grass.
“Stupid, smug beasts!” she huffed, fuming.
Looking around, she saw that the gate between her property and Ransom’s was open. The animals had probably pressed against it as they were grazing on his land, and the latch had popped open. Never ones to waste an opportunity to find food, they’d simply invited themselves in.
She would have to call Caleb to come get his cattle. She reached into her shorts’ pocket for her cell phone, then realized she had no idea what his number was, and if she had and her name came up on his Caller ID, he might not even answer.
“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be with neighbors. Neighbors help each other, welcome each other, share phone numbers, keep an eye on their own darned cattle.” In her righteous indignation, she was building up a healthy head of steam. This time when she swatted one of the cows on the rump, it moved in the right direction, back toward the gate where it had made its unwelcome entrance. Satisfied with that outcome, she whistled at the next one, slapped it, too, and got it headed the way she wanted. The last two animals seemed to realize she meant business, so they followed along, as well.
When she had them back on their own side of the fence, she locked the gate securely and strode across the pasture to talk to Caleb about his cattle and to set him straight about exactly how neighbors were supposed to act toward each other. The fact that she had to dodge cow and horse manure as she went didn’t improve her mood at all. Glancing around, she looked for the mare and filly, but they were nowhere to be seen.
She could have driven, but she was too mad. She hoped the fifteen-minute walk would take the edge off her annoyance, but by the time she stomped up his front steps and rapped on his door, she was still as annoyed as she’d been when she’d found the cows trampling her flowers and eating her grass.
* * *
CALEB THREW OPEN the door and gaped at the woman on his doorstep. He was pretty sure it was Delaney Reynolds, but in their three previous encounters, she hadn’t looked like this. She was dressed in a skimpy tank top and shorts that left about twelve miles of legs for him to appreciate. It didn’t matter that her feet were tucked into an old pair of boots—made an interesting contrast, if he were interested. Which he wasn’t.
His gaze made a quick sweep upward once again and he saw that she was breathing rapidly, obviously from exertion. Her scent, amplified by her agitation, swept over him, bringing a hint of citrus—sharp and tangy.
Her hair was loose and wild around her shoulders, with every lock doing business for itself. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were full of fire.
She looked like an Amazon on the hunt.
“Mr. Ransom,” she said, biting off the words.
“Yes?”
“Your cattle...” She had to stop to catch her breath.
“What about them?”
“They somehow got the gate open and were on my property, trampling the flowers I planted only days ago and eating my grass.”
“Oh.” He stepped outside. “I’ll go get them and...”
“Never mind.” She held up her hand to stop him. “I took care of it. They’re back in your pasture.”
“Well, thank you, I—”
“This isn’t what neighbors do, you know.”
He didn’t know exactly what she meant. “It isn’t?”
“No, it isn’t.” She paused as if to
