Kenner glanced down the hill toward the sprawling ranch-style home sheltered by pines, then scanned the horse and cattle barns far below. Assured that no one was watching, she did a happy dance of joy.
She’d lived on the Langfords’ remote Montana ranch for five years as a little girl, while following her dad from his erratic employment at one ranch to the next. Even though their abrupt departure had been clouded with the usual embarrassment and regret, she still had warm memories of two of the three Langford boys and their sweet grandma, Betty.
The middle brother—Devlin—was another story altogether. But when she’d called to ask about renting a cabin, Betty had said Devlin was career military and rarely visited. And though everyone would be gone when Chloe hoped to arrive, her isolated cabin would be unlocked and ready, and she was to make herself at home.
Perfect. Complete peace and quiet.
After the calamitous end of her secretarial job in Minneapolis, heavy local news coverage of the debacle had ensured that she was nearly unemployable there. At least until one particularly rabid reporter gave up and decided to leave her in peace, and all of the others forgot about her and moved on. But surely none of them would find her clear out here in Montana.
She’d been skillfully framed by her conniving former boss—who had lied about being single and had declared his undying love, while embezzling from investment clients, then he’d pinned the crime on her when he was caught. How had she been so blind? Such a poor judge of character? Just the thought of ever risking another romance made her shudder.
But the thought of looming bankruptcy was worse. With no interruptions for the next three months, she could finish her writing projects and pray they would help pay off her staggering legal debts.
She shifted the weight of her heavy backpack, bowed her head and resolutely dragged her bulky suitcase up the rocky trail to the first of three cabins that she remembered were strewn amongst the trees.
The unfamiliar higher elevation had her panting as she struggled onward, but the crisp pine scent was so sharp and pure, so reminiscent of the past, she knew she was already grinning from ear to ear when she finally caught sight of a cabin partly hidden by the trees to the right.
Pebbles skittered down the steep path far ahead of her. A twig snapped.
Her heart lurched. She drew in a sharp breath, her eyes riveted on the trail that wound through some boulders and disappeared into the trees.
Bears.
Mountain lions.
Even wolves were possible here, in the foothills of the Rockies. She eyed the distance to the cabin. Too far. Running might make her look like scared, easy prey. Like a big, tasty rabbit.
She eased her backpack onto one shoulder and pulled the suitcase alongside her hip to widen her profile, raised her arms to look more intimidating, and then as a forewarning, began belting out the only song she could think of.
Another twig snapped.
A tall form sauntered into view, backlit by early evening sun. She couldn’t make out his features, yet she instantly knew who he was. Trouble. The song died on her lips as she blinked and swallowed hard.
If only it had been a bear.
* * *
“‘Jingle bells’?” Devlin drawled.
Bright flags of color turned the young woman’s face as pink as the roses his late mother had planted along the front of the main ranch house, turning her into a riot of color with that fluorescent-yellow T-shirt and the cloud of curly dark auburn hair that had partly escaped her ponytail. Several silver bracelets gleamed on her right wrist.
His first thought was that he’d like to get to know her a whole lot better.
His second was that a woman like this one wouldn’t want to be seen with someone like him. Six months ago, maybe. But not anymore.
He searched her face, his gut telling him that he knew her. From high school? College? Maybe an old neighbor? After so many years in the military, he’d lost touch with everyone around here.
Yet a lovely woman like this one would be impossible to forget, with that delicate ivory complexion, playful scattering of small freckles across her nose, and big blue eyes the size of pansies that were now looking up at him with recognition and utter horror.
A cascade of memories tinged with guilt slammed through his thoughts.
He hadn’t seen her since he was sixteen and she’d been his spindly, persistent shadow. An eleven-year-old chatterbox who had been the bane of his existence. “Chloe?”
“I—I thought you were in the Marines,” she stammered, her blush deepening. “Betty said...”
Apparently her memories of him weren’t that happy, either. “I’ve been back just a of couple days. They weren’t expecting me.”
She swallowed hard, her gaze sliding past him. “I...um...I’m renting a cabin here. For a few months.”
He stared at her, at a loss for words.
While the family was piling into his brother Jess’s SUV to leave for California yesterday morning, Betty had mentioned that someone was coming to stay in the cabin nearest the house.
He could now guess why she’d conveniently neglected to say who it was, or for how long. Betty had always seemed to know Devlin better than he knew himself, and surely she’d seen how Chloe had pestered him all those years ago.
But he still couldn’t imagine why the renter had to be this Pollyanna, who could cheerfully talk nonstop for hours without taking a breath. What on earth would she do with herself on this lonely, isolated ranch? Bother him, no doubt.
Pine Bend, Montana, population 1,200, was a good fifteen miles away, and the town beyond was another twenty miles, with even fewer residents.
“Months?” he repeated, hoping he’d heard her wrong—which was always a possibility, given his battle-damaged hearing.
She nodded as she shifted the weight of her backpack and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. “Well, then...I guess I’d better get settled.”
His vision of blessed, healing solitude evaporated. Sure, there were others living here at the ranch, but none of them were intrusive, and even his brother’s six-year-old twins seemed to sense that he needed to be left alone.
The Chloe he remembered had no such sense of personal boundaries.
He sighed, giving in to the inevitable. Dad had bought up several neighboring ranches at foreclosure auctions before he passed away. Maybe Devlin could use one of those houses if any were vacant.
Still, the strict code of manners instilled in him since childhood nudged at him. “Do you need help with that luggage?”
She shook her head and veered off the trail, onto the path toward the cabin, clearly laboring against the weight of that ridiculously large suitcase and the steep incline.
She was still stubborn, too.
He silently strode
