It’d been so long since she’d been around a man not old enough to be her father or grandfather, she wasn’t sure what the cryptic, wholly masculine reply meant. Maybe nothing. A catchall for the more wordy, feminine version of It’s amazing how downright rude some people can be by littering on a neighbor’s land.

“You, um, really should put your coat back on,” she said, telling herself her advice had nothing to do with the fact the mere sight of that T-shirt clinging to his muscular chest was making her pulse race. “Looks like freezing rain could start any minute.”

Again, she got the grunt.

“Freezing rain’s nothing to mess around with,” she prattled on. “Once it starts, you’d better be sure you’re where you want to be, because odds are, you just may be there a while.”

“Ma’am,” he said, gathering a good eight to ten quartered logs in his strapping arms and adding them to the already healthier pile, “no offense, but I grew up in north Texas. I know all about freezing rain.”

Of course, you do. But do you have any idea how well those Wranglers hug your—

“Mommy!” Ashley cried, skidding to a breathless stop alongside her. “Gramma said if you don’t get in the house, you’ll catch a death.”

Gage chuckled.

The fact that he apparently found not only her, but also her entire family amusing, reminded Jess why she’d even tracked him down. To ask him to leave.

“Please tell Grandma I’ll be right in,” she said to her daughter, giving the pom-pom of her green crocheted hat an affectionate tweak.

“’Kay.” As fast as her daughter had appeared, she ran off.

“She’s a cutie,” Gage said.

“Thanks.”

“Hope I’m not overstepping—” he reached for another log “—but Doc told me what happened to your husband. Must’ve been a comfort having your girls.”

More than you’ll ever know.

Something about the warmth in the stranger’s tone wrapped the simple truth of his words around her heart. Throat swelling with the full impact of a loss that suddenly seemed fresher than it had in a long time, she lacked the strength to speak.

“Anyway,” he continued, “just wanted to say sorry. You got a raw deal.”

Lips pursed, she nodded.

“You should—” he nodded to the house “—go in.”

Though she couldn’t begin to understand why, the fact that he cared if she were cold irritated her to no end. She’d come over to tell him thanks, but no thanks, she and her girls could handle working this ranch just fine on their own, and in a span of fifteen minutes he’d managed to chop more wood than she had in a month. Now, just as Dwayne used to, he was protecting her. Sheltering her from the worst an Oklahoma winter could dish out. Coming from her husband, her high-school sweetheart, the only man she’d ever loved, the notion had been endearing. Coming from this stranger, it was insulting.

The truth of the matter was that in a few months, once she could no longer afford to pay him, he’d be gone. Just like her husband. Then, there she’d be, once again struggling to make a go of this place on her own. But that was okay. Because, stubborn as she was, she’d do just that.

Oh, Jess knew the stranger meant well, but the bottom line was that she was done depending on anyone for survival. And make no mistake, out here, eking out a living from the land was a matter of day-to-day survival.

As a glowing bride, she’d still believed in happily ever afters. She now knew better. Loved ones could be snatched from you in a black second. Twisters could take your home. Learning life doesn’t come with a guarantee had been one of Jess’s most valuable lessons. It had taught her to appreciate every day spent with her daughters and parents and few friends. It had also taught her not to let anyone else in. Even if that someone was only an apparently well-meaning hired hand. For the inevitable loss of his much-needed help would hurt her already broken spirit far more than long days of working the ranch hurt her weary muscles.

“Look,” she finally said, all the more upset by the fact that the freezing rain had started, tinkling against the tin roof and the rusted antique tiller Dwayne had placed at the corner of the yard for decoration. They’d had such plans for this old place. Dreamed of fixing it up, little by little, and restoring it to the kind of working outfit they’d both be proud of. “I’m not sure how to politely put this, so I’m just going to come right out and say it. You’re, um, doing an amazing job with this wood, and there’s no doubt I could always use an extra hand, but—”

“You don’t want me here?”

“Well…” Jess didn’t want to be rude to the man, but yeah, she didn’t want him here.

“Tell you what,” he said, not pausing in his work. “Doc and my dad are pretty proud of themselves for hooking us up, and—”

Her cheeks flamed. “They what?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Gage said, casting her a slow and easy and entirely too handsome grin. “Just that I’ve needed a change of scenery and you’ve obviously needed a strong back. To a couple of coots like Doc and my old man, I suppose we must seem like a good pair.”

“Oh. Sure.” Now, Jess’s cheeks turned fiery due to having taken Gage’s innocent statement the wrong way.

“Back to what I was saying, how about I stay through the afternoon—just long enough to get you a nice stockpile of wood—then be on my way before the weather gets too bad? Doc won’t even have to know I’m gone ’til I’m over the state line.”

“You’d do that? Pretend to stay, for me?”

“Hell,” he said with a chuckle, “if I’d stand out here all afternoon, chopping wood for you in the freezing cold, why wouldn’t I do a little thing like leaving you on your own?”

His laughter was contagious, and for an instant, Jess’s load felt lightened. Only, curiously enough, her healthier woodpile had less to do with her improved mood than the warmth of Gage’s smile.

Chapter Two

Only a few more hours, and Gage would be back on the road to Texas. He’d expected to feel good about the fact, but the lead in his gut felt more like guilt.

Jess needed him. He’d been raised never to turn his back on someone in need, and considering Jess’s situation, Gage was pretty much honor-bound to do right by the down-on-her-luck widow and her brood. Hell, even the mangy old dog currently curled in front of the living room’s crackling fire seemed to need him.

“Thanks,” Gage said, accepting the third bowl of chili Jess’s mom had shoved in front of him. The meal was delicious, but the straight-backed kitchen chair was about as comfortable as a cedar fence rail. Don’t even get him started on the one rowdy munchkin jawing his ears off about Tyrannosaurus rex eggs, and the other not-so-rowdy—okay, downright hostile—munchkin shooting him laserlike death stares.

Georgia, on the other hand, made for pleasant enough company with her gentle chatter about the weather and her corn bread recipe and how her husband should be here just any minute to fetch her in his four-wheel drive. Gage missed his own mom. This Christmas would be tough on her—most especially without him there. But she had his father and many friends to help her through. He just couldn’t bring himself to see her; she reminded him too much of Marnie.

Maybe he’d go home for her birthday in March.

Doc had long since finished up on Honey, calmed Buttercup and taken off to help his wife wrap gifts for their six grandkids. Gage would’ve been on his way, but seeing how Jess’s mom was still hanging around, he was obliged to stay.

Georgia fixed herself a second bowl of chili, sprinkled it with Colby Jack, then dropped into a straight-backed chair alongside him. “Ray Hawkins worked miracles on that old bunkhouse stove. Gage, you should be snug as a bug out there all through this storm.”

“Actually…”

“He’s staying? Here? In the bunkhouse? That’s where I play Barbies.” Lexie shoved her chair back, and stomped from the room.

“Sorry,” Jess said. “Ever since her dad…”

Gage knew well enough what she left unsaid. Ever since the girl’s dad had died, she didn’t cotton to any new men sniffing around her mom. Well, she’d be safe from him. He’d be leaving soon, and besides, with all he’d been through in the past few months, he certainly wasn’t looking for a woman.

Granted, Jess was a fine-looking woman.

Tall, with a figure just right for holding. A long mess of fiery-red hair that suited what he’d imagined to be an equally hot temper. And then there were her eyes. Mostly gray with a tinge of blue. On a sunny day, would they match the sky?

Too bad he’d never know.

“Thank you, ma’am, for this meal,” he said to Georgia.

“You’re most welcome,” she said, glowing from the compliment. “From the looks of you, a winter’s worth of home cooking will do you good.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He had lost weight, but hadn’t realized it showed. Not that it mattered.

“Mister Gage,” Ashley said, “did you know a T-rex could bite through somebody and kill them with just one chomp? He’d mash them, squirting out their blood all over the place—just like a Fruit Gusher.”

“Ashley Grace Cummings,” Georgia scolded. “Must you speak of such things at the dinner table?”

“It’s true,” the girl said, slathering enough butter atop a corn muffin that it looked more like a frosted cupcake. “I figured Mister Gage should know to be careful. Just in case he ever sees one.”

“Thanks,” he said with a nod. “You’re right, you can never be too careful around those T-rex’s. Especially where I’m from in Texas.”

“Where’s that?” Jess asked, pushing her chair back and standing. She hadn’t even finished her first bowl of chili. Whereas he’d lost a few pounds, upon closer inspection, without her heavy coat, she looked scary thin.

“Dallas. T-rexes on every corner. Good thing Miss Ashley, here, told me to watch out, or I’d be someone’s dinner.”

“I hope a T-rex does get you.” Peeking around the corner from the living room into the kitchen was Lexie, wearing a satisfied smile. “At least then, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Lexie!” Georgia and Jess apologized on the girl’s behalf, but Gage shrugged off their concern. It was all right. He and Lexie had more in common than she could ever possibly know. As such, he’d cut the kid some slack. More than a few times lately, he’d caught himself just short of railing on some poor waitress who’d botched his order. Or his manager for booking too many public appearances when Gage had specifically asked for none.

Jess’s ranch would have been a wonderful place to hide.

Spend downtime nursing emotional wounds with hard work and—

“Heavens,” Georgia said, glancing toward the porch at the sound of an unholy crash. “What was that?”

The back door burst open.

A red-faced, burly man dressed in a flannel shirt and denim overalls looked right at Gage, introduced himself as Jess’s father, Harold, and said, “It’s a darned good thing you’re sticking around for a while because, judging by the mess I just made of my truck, you’re gonna want to stay put.”

SURVEYING THE DAMAGE her father had done to her porch rail, Jess didn’t even try suppressing a groan.

This was a bad joke, right?

Like her home wasn’t already ramshackle enough.

“Sorry, doodlebug,” her father said beneath the porch’s tin roof, kissing her cheek. He practically had to shout to be heard above the clattering ice. “Just as soon as this weather clears, I’ll be over to fix the damage. With Gage’s help, shouldn’t take much longer than an afternoon.”

“Th-that’s all right, Dad.” Arms crossed, teeth chattering, Jess glanced Gage’s way. He wasn’t going to go back on his word, was he? And tell her dad he wouldn’t be staying? “You couldn’t have helped it.” The driveway was completely ice-slicked and her dad had simply lost control.

“Are you hurt?” Georgia asked, worry creasing her brow.

“Whoa!” nine-year-old Lexie said, off the porch and sliding on the icy drive in her pink snow boots. “Grandpa, you did a movie stunt!”

“I love you,” Ashley said, pouring on the sweetness by hugging her grandfather’s legs. “I’m glad you didn’t get hurt from your movie stunt.”

“I’m fine,” he said, kissing Georgia.

“Think we need to stay here tonight?” his wife asked.

“Probably,” he said with a sigh, “but if we do, who’s going to look after the dogs?”

“Yeah,” Jess prodded, yet not without a pang of guilt. “You can’t forget about the dogs.” Just like I can’t forget that if only you two would leave, so would Gage. What kind of daughter was she? Wishing her parents out into this storm?

“We’ll be fine,” Jess’s dad reassured. “In case we can’t make it over, I brought the girls’ presents. But we’re going to have to hustle to unload, then get back on the road.”

“Okay,” Georgia said, already heading inside. “Let me get my coat, and I’ll be right out to help.”

“Wanna bet it takes her a good ten minutes to get back out here?” Jess’s dad asked Gage with a good-natured grin.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Gage replied.

Georgia was back outside in five minutes. After a flurry of rushing back and forth with packages—little Ashley excited about each one, Lexie more reserved, almost as if she were trying to hide her excitement—Jess waved her parents on their way, saying a quick prayer for their safety.

The second her father’s truck’s brake lights cleared the drive, Ashley suggested, “Let’s open all of Gramma and Grandpa’s presents!”

“N-nope,” Jess said, teeth chattering while she ushered the girls inside. “N-not until Christmas morning. But thanks for the idea. I think since I’m a grown-up, I’ll go ahead and open mine now.”

“That’s not fair!” Ashley bellowed.

Laughing, Jess ruffled her youngest daughter’s hair.

“Mom,” Lexie asked, “can we watch a movie?”

“D-do the dishes first,” Jess said.

“But—”

“Lexie…” Jess warned.

“She’s a handful,” Gage said after the girls had traipsed inside.

“T-tell me about it.”

He chuckled, then stuck his hand out from under the porch’s shelter, letting ice coat his palm. “This is bad. Probably the worst I’ve seen. Got any tire chains?”

“I d-don’t th-think so,” she said through teeth chattering so bad it was hard to speak. “I-if w-we do, they’re in th-the b-barn.”

“I’ll look, you get back in the house.”

“B-but…”

“Go,” he said, pointing to the front door. “The longer you stand out here arguing, the longer it’s going to take me to get on the road.”

Famous last words.

Fifteen minutes later, through the living room curtains, Jess watched Gage slide rusty steel chains around his tires. But about five seconds after having put his truck in gear and backing up to test the traction, even through the window, she heard a metallic snap.

After turning off his truck, Gage hopped out to inspect, only to promptly fall on his behind.

Jess snatched a quilt from the back of a rocker, wrapped it around her shoulders, then dashed outside. Into driving wind and ice, she shouted, “You okay?”

“Fine. Unless you count wounded pride.” Scrambling to his feet and gingerly rising to his full height, he brushed ice from the backside of his jeans. “Got any welding gear? It won’t be pretty, but I’m good enough to jury-rig these to hold ’til the state line.”

Freezing rain still fell, tinkling, tinkling, coating the world in sparkling wonder. The scene was beautiful, yet the lead in her stomach filled her with dread. Both tire chains had snapped. Gage could hardly stand. It would be downright suicidal expecting him to go anywhere until the storm cleared. “Stay.”

“Excuse me?” Using his boots as skates, he slid onto the porch. “A few hours ago, you wanted nothing more than for me to go.”

“I-I do. But not now. Stay—at least until the roads clear. Dad called to tell me they made it home okay, but it was rough going. If something happened to you…” Her throat tightened. “Gage, you strike me as a smart guy. You know driving in this would be foolhardy.”

Shivering, blowing on cupped hands, he nodded. “But so is sticking around where I’m not wanted.” A faint grin told her he was trying to lighten the moment. His hooded eyes told her he was still willing to go—no matter the weather.

“I’m sorry, all right? Earlier, I wasn’t thinking clearly, but n-now…” The cold was again becoming unbearable. “P-please, as a f-favor…Stay.”

He reached out to her, almost as if on the verge of setting his broad hands to her trembling shoulders. But then, having apparently thought better, he shoved them into his pockets. “This mess won’t last forever. Christmas will come and go. I’ll hole up in the bunkhouse for a few days, then be on my way.”

“Thanks,” she said with a nod. “That sounds good.”

“I do have one question for you,” he called over his shoulder while carefully stepping to his truck, using the bed’s rails for support while grabbing an ice-coated black duffel.

“Sh-shoot.”

After walking back on the porch, he asked, “Why, when from all I’ve seen, you could clearly use a helping hand, are you so hell-bent on running this place on your own?”

“It’s p-personal,” she answered, bristling, and turned toward the house’s softly glowing lights.

“It’s personal to me that there’s no way you can adequately handle this operation yourself. I hate seeing horses suffer, and with foaling season right around the corner, you—”

“M-my horses aren’t suffering.” Damn her chattering teeth. She hated having weaknesses, let alone showing them. Squaring her shoulders, despite driving freezing rain sounding as if it might bore holes through the tin roof, she added, “M-my animals are f-family. I would n-never—”

“Do you realize that if you weren’t so strapped for time, Honey wouldn’t have had the opportunity to escape?”

“You’re blaming what happened to Honey on me?” Anger burned through her, providing momentary relief from the cold.

“Not at all, I’m just—”

She didn’t hear the rest of what he’d said because as swiftly as she could manage with the long quilt flapping around her legs, she’d escaped his accusatory stare for her home’s welcoming warmth.

GAGE SHOVED OPEN the bunkhouse door only to be hit by a wall of heat. Bless Doc. Before leaving, he must’ve made a fire in the cast-iron stove.

Removing his hat, Gage hooked it over the foot-board of a white, wrought-iron bed. He pressed down on the quilt-covered mattress, testing the give. Not too hard or soft. Good. He could use a decent night’s rest.

Setting his bag on the worn wood floor, wincing at the handle’s bite on his roughed-up hands, he shrugged off his jacket, hung it on a row of brass hooks on the wall. He’d seen a lot of bunkhouses in his day, but this one beat all. Frilly, flowery curtains hung over three wide-paned windows that gazed out on a rolling pasture—currently a grayish-white instead of the customary green. Paintings dotted the walls with color. Mountains, flowers and horses were the predominant themes.

An older-model TV sat on a dresser, wearing a rabbit-ear antennae that looked like a hat. A bookshelf nestled alongside the dresser held a range of worn paperbacks and a few stacks of assorted magazines.

A narrow door to the left of the bed led to a small bathroom complete with thick, white towels and a claw-foot tub.

Gage looked around and groaned, running his hands through his hair.

Well…Here he was. Home sweet home—at least until the roads cleared.

He sat down in an oak rocker in front of the stove.

You’re blaming what happened to Honey on me?

Elbows on his knees, resting his chin on cold, fisted hands, Gage willed Jess’s question from his weary brain.

Honestly? Yeah, maybe a small part of him did blame her. Why was she—like his sister—so damned stubborn to ask for help? How many times could Marnie have turned to him? Leaned on him for support? Instead, she’d insisted on handling the mess he’d put her in all by herself.

Impossible. That’s what women were.

He’d headed up here with the express intention of making sense of his life, and here he was, more confused than ever.

Leaning forward, he grabbed the poker from a stand of fireplace tools. His fingers were so numb, the flame’s heat stung. He jabbed at the crackling pile of logs and glowing coals. Just his luck that he’d apparently jumped from one emotion-packed fire into another.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” he called out, voice wary.

The older of Jess’s girls stumbled in with the cold.

“Your mom know where you are?” he asked.

“She’s taking a nap.”

“So that’d be no?”

“No, what?” she asked, standing there, dripping water all over the floor.

Frowning, Gage turned his attention from her back to the fire. “What brings you all the way out here?”

“This is my house,” she said, wagging a pink, briefcase-size box that had Barbie emblazoned across the front. “Me and my dolls live here—not you.”

A glance over his shoulder showed a determined set to her jaw and eyes so squinty it was a wonder the kid’s freckles weren’t glowing. “Trust me, Tater Tot, I’ll be gone before you know it.”

“Good.” After tossing her dripping pink case onto his bed, she crossed her arms.

“Well? Is there something else I can help you with?”

“You’re in my way.”

“Of what?”

“That’s where I set up my ranch.” She pointed to the fieldstone stove surround. “My dolls camp by the fire.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little hot right now?”

Lips pursed, she rolled her eyes.

Flipping open the latch on her box, out came piles of doll clothes and hats and tiny shoes that’d be hell on his back if she inadvertently left one behind. “My dolls are Sooners. We learned in school that’s what the prairie people were who got their land first before the land rush started.”

“Wasn’t that cheating?” Gage couldn’t resist asking.

His question earned him a scowl. “If you’d’ve come here, even when the land rush officially started, they probably wouldn’t have let you stay.”

“Fair enough,” he said over his shoulder. “Seeing how I’m a Texan, I wouldn’t have wanted any smelly old Oklahoma land.”

“Hey,” she said, bristling, “our state’s not smelly.”

“Duh. I was making a joke. You’re a kid. I thought you knew how to laugh?”

“I do. But only with people I like.”

“Oh.” Well, she put him in his place. What would it take to get a brokenhearted tadpole like this girl to laugh again?

“It’s a good thing my dolls are prairie people, ’cause they don’t have a house or furniture.”

“Don’t you at least have a covered wagon for them to stay in when it rains?”

“Nah. But that’d be really cool.”

The bunkhouse door opened, ushering in a powerful cold wind and one more munchkin. “There you are,” the girl said to her sister. Gage knew their names, but had forgotten which one was which.

“Who’s Ashley and who’s Lexie?”

“I’m Lexie and I’m oldest,” said the tall one with hornet-mean eyes.

“I’m Ashley and I’m smarter,” said Shorty. The kid helped herself—sneakers and dinosaur-themed raincoat dripping—to bouncing on his bed. “Did you know the biggest dinosaur egg ever found was as big as a football?”

“You’re sooooooo dumb,” Lexie said.

“You’re dumb,” said Dino Girl.

“You’re dumber.”

“You’re dumbest!”

“You’re dumb to infinity!” Chin high, Lexie wore a victor’s snide smile. “I win.”

Gage stood. “I don’t mean to get in the way of this deep conversation, but would y’all mind taking this somewhere else? I could really use a nap, and, Ashley, you’re dripping all over my bed.”

“Thought you were leaving?” Lexie asked, her fury back on him. “I want to play with my dolls.”

Sighing, Gage squeezed his eyes closed for just a sec, praying that when he opened them, the munchkins would be gone.

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