Stranded with the Rancher. Tina Radcliffe

was covering for me. Now call duty is mine again. You can add the ranch to your prayer list, as well, because if those cows start calving early and I get called out on a medical emergency you might find yourself helping out with more than you signed on for.”

      Elsie merely grinned, excited as a kid. “Just like the old days. I used to help your father when calving season began.”

      “I’m glad you’re happy, because I keep thinking about all the potentials for disaster. Every cow counts, as Joe always says, and he’s not going to understand if I leave the ranch to tend to a mere human when his precious cows are calving.”

      “You can only do your best.”

      “I hope my best is good enough. Joe’s been through enough. I don’t want to let him down now.”

      “I’m proud of you, Dan, and I know Joe will be, as well. Just remember you aren’t in this alone. The Lord is on your side, and so am I.”

      Dan shook his head as his mother’s words sank in. “You’re right, Mom. I’m not alone.” He smiled. “How’d you get to be so smart?”

      Elsie merely grinned.

       Chapter Four

      The house was quiet as Dan tucked his flannel shirt into his jeans and crossed the living room toward the kitchen. Barely 6:00 a.m. The sun wouldn’t rise for another hour, but there was way too much to do and he was restless.

      He started the coffee, and as the brewer gurgled and then hissed, he pulled two muffins out of the fridge and began a mental list of the day’s chores. His gaze drifted to the big picture window. Snow continued to fall; now forming drifts that hugged the barn and the garage. The moonlight illuminated the sky, and he could make out the dark humps that were actually cattle huddled together in the feeding pen.

      “Coffee.” The whispered word was as earnest as a prayer.

      Dan turned to see Beth in the doorway. She barely acknowledged him as she sank into a kitchen chair.

      “Addiction problem?” he murmured.

      “Yes. My only vice.”

      “Only one vice?”

      The corner of her mouth quirked, but her eyelids remained at half-mast. “That I will readily admit to.”

      “Ah.” He nodded. “Don’t like it fancy, I hope.”

      “No. Just strong.”

      “That I can do.” Dan pulled two stoneware mugs from the cupboard and set them on the counter.

      “What about you?” she asked.

      He raised his brows.

      “No vices?”

      “Salted caramels.”

      Her eyes opened and her brows rose in surprise before she released a short laugh.

      “Those soft, melt-in-your-mouth ones that are sprinkled with sea salt,” Dan explained.

      “I would have never guessed.”

      “Now you know my secret. I hope I can count on your discretion.”

      Beth crossed her heart with a finger and nodded.

      Dan smiled and couldn’t help appraising the city girl. Today her hair was swept back, away from her face in a no-fuss ponytail, low on her neck. He didn’t know much about makeup, but her face didn’t look to be made up.

      She wore plain, ordinary jeans, not even the skinny kind, and a bulky forest-green sweater that fell to her hips and concealed her figure. Obviously, she was more comfort-focused than fashion conscious.

      Points for her.

      “How’s your shoulder?” he asked.

      “The patient is much improved.”

      “Hmm” was his muttered response.

      She pinned him with her gaze. “Do I sense doubt at my qualified medical opinion?”

      “Full range of motion?” he countered, ignoring her comment.

      “Partial, and the pain is significantly diminished.”

      Dan nodded and poured the coffee. “Black, right?”

      “Yes. Thanks.”

      “Did you get a call through to New York?” he asked as he slid into a chair across from her.

      “Interesting segue,” she said as she took a sip of coffee.

      Dan smiled and wrapped his hands around his mug, waiting.

      “I did get in touch with the on-call physician after a few tries, and he was very understanding. I’ve rescheduled my flight for Thursday afternoon. That will give me some time to relax before the Friday morning interview.”

      “That’s positive thinking.”

      She blinked. “You don’t think I can get to New York by Thursday night?”

      “The truth?”

      “Always.”

      “Could be, but you might have saved yourself some stress by making it for the following Monday.”

      “No. They’d have replaced me for certain if I couldn’t get there before then.”

      “Do you honestly want an employer who values you so little they’ll hold the weather against you?”

      Beth didn’t answer. She stared down at her coffee, finally lifting the mug and taking another sip.

      “You said you wanted the truth,” he murmured.

      “And you’re very good at that,” Beth returned with a tight smile.

      “Muffin?” Dan offered. He slid a plate with a plump, golden muffin across the table, along with a napkin.

      “Peace offering?” she asked.

      Taken off guard by her response, Dan laughed and shook his head. “Maybe.”

      Beth peeled the paper off her muffin and broke it in half. “What are these?”

      “My mother calls them kitchen sink muffins. Fruit, nuts and seeds. They stick to you, that’s for sure.”

      She took a bite. “Good stuff.”

      He noted her long, slim fingers as she picked up crumbs from the table. No rings, and while her nails were polished, they were short and practical. Even the color, a pale pink, was simple and subdued.

      The woman was a puzzle. She gave away very little, yet her panic in the truck had been very real and didn’t mesh with the no-nonsense, controlled woman with the quirky sense of humor who sat across from him. He pondered that as he ate his own muffin.

      There was an intimacy in the quiet meal they shared. It was pleasant, and he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to share breakfast each day with someone like Beth.

      Her gaze met his and she quickly looked away, her face coloring and her lashes fluttering in apparent confusion. Her attention quickly moved to the view outside the window.

      Was she having the same thoughts?

      Dan studied her profile, admiring the smooth column of her neck visible above the sweater’s rolled collar. A few tendrils of hair had escaped her ponytail and rested on her ear.

      Yes, she was beautiful, but what did he really know about Beth Rogers? Experience had taught him the hard way that you didn’t really get to know someone when things were going fine. Reality poked up its head when you least expected it—usually when your guard was down. When the going was rough. Yeah, that was when you really discovered a person’s mettle.