.

always taken his responsibility seriously. Even now, with the twins grown, Alex felt responsible for them, as he had always taken on the role of big brother for Randy and Vi’s daughter, Jessica. Sometimes he thought he felt responsible for the whole world.

      That thought brought him back to Hannah Clark, and the mind-blowing request she had made of him last night. He did feel some responsibility for Hannah’s self-conscious demeanor, her shy and awkward bumbling and stumbling. After all, she’d been at The Desert Rose weekly with her father, and if Alex had not joined in the lighthearted but—he saw now—painful teasing his brothers had indulged in, he certainly had done nothing to stop it.

      He’d never looked beyond the nervous smile or the pratfalls, the stumbles, the awkward child who sometimes seemed to have her legs on backwards, and her tongue in a knot. He’d never considered her as a person, another motherless child like himself, but without the love of someone like Aunt Vi. A boy needed his mother, certainly. But a girl without a mother, and with a bombastic, sarcastic, hardheaded and bitter man like Hugo Clark for a father needed one most of all.

      Could Alex absolve himself from all blame for the way Hannah Clark had turned out? He certainly hadn’t helped her, not in all the years she’d hung around the fringes of The Desert Rose, watching and hoping and either teased or ignored.

      Now she’d done him a favor and asked a favor in return. She didn’t see that she had grown into a competent veterinarian, a woman who didn’t mumble or falter or feel insecure when it came to helping a distressed mare in real danger.

      Hannah had been competent and assured the entire time she’d dealt with Khalahari, only reverting to type after the job was done, the mare and foal safe. There was a part of Hannah Clark that had grown, matured. Triumphed.

      But she didn’t see that, obviously, and Alex highly doubted that she had heard a single word of praise from Hugo.

      And yet she’d come back to Bridle, come back to her father. He was getting older, she’d said, and she’d come back to help him, be the dutiful daughter. Why was it that so often the most undeserving parents were gifted with the most loyal love? Was the need for a parent’s love, a parent’s acceptance, that strong?

      Probably, or else Hannah would have been long gone, never returning after getting her degrees, which she’d instead carried home to Hugo who, if Alex read the man correctly, never uttered a word of praise for her accomplishment.

      That wasn’t Alex’s fault, damn it, and he knew it. And yet…and yet he felt this responsibility, this need to help Hannah realize who she was, how wonderful she was all by herself.

      Wonderful? Alex shook his head, wondering where that word had come from. Yes, he’d been impressed with Hannah the vet, definitely. But he had also been impressed with her conversation, the flashes of wit and humor that she tried to hide. And he’d been just about blown away by that damn top button on her blouse, spending at least half the night wondering what would happen if he reached across the table and undid it.

      “Alex?” Mac said as Alex stepped back, allowing Mac to exit the stall. “Cade told me you took Hannah Clark to dinner last night.”

      “To thank her for saving Khalahari and Khalid, yes,” Alex said, turning with his brother and walking back down the length of the stables.

      “I don’t think I’ve seen her since she got back from veterinary school. How is she?” Mac asked, stopping at the door to the stables and looking out at another cold, damp morning. “Still the klutz? Good old Hannah Slip-on-a-banana.”

      “She’s twenty-eight and a damn good vet, Mac,” Alex said angrily. “I think we can safely retire that old joke now.”

      “Hey, hey! Calm down, brother. I didn’t mean anything by it. What happened? Did the clumsy duckling turn into a graceful swan?”

      Alex felt the muscles in his jaw tensing as he bit down hard, nearly grinding his teeth. “Look, Mac, I know you’ve sworn off women, but take it easy, okay? Hannah’s a nice kid.”

      “Kid? Alex, you just reminded me that she’s twenty-eight now. Hardly a kid. Now, if I promise to be nice, will you tell me what she looks like all grown up? I remember blond hair in pigtails.”

      Alex closed his eyes, surprised at how clearly he could picture Hannah in his mind. Her thick, naturally blond hair swinging just at her shoulders. Those huge blue eyes that were too often shadowed by some inner pain. A full mouth that smiled too seldom. Her body, petite yet strong, her slim shoulders seemingly weighted down with problems much too heavy for her to carry.

      “No more pigtails,” he said at last, because suddenly that was all he wanted to say about Hannah Clark. Everything else was both too personal and too confusing. “See you back at the house, Mac. And don’t get caught up in anything out here, okay? You know Vi expects us all to be on time for breakfast.”

      “Your wish, as always, is my command, Oh big brother of mine,” Mac said with a sharp salute, then smiled before turning back into the stables.

      Alex shook his head. Mac would forget. He’d find a hoof he thought needed cleaning and do it himself rather than ask the ranch hands—Jan or Mickey or Hal—to do it. And Cade would eat his pancakes so they wouldn’t get cold, and so that Vi wouldn’t fret, worried that Mac, a big strong man, would fade away into nothing because he forgot to eat.

      Just another day at The Desert Rose. Another dawn, another challenge, another day.

      Except that today, everywhere Alex looked, he saw a skinny little kid in pigtails, hiding behind a post, peering at his brothers and himself, her big blue eyes filled with longing.

      Chapter Four

      Hannah sat in the front seat of her father’s SUV, her head in her hands, sobbing.

      The storm raged both inside and outside, a storm of weeping from the gray skies and the flood of tears Hannah no longer fought to control. She was cold, wet, covered in mud and heartbroken.

      She was also stranded on the side of the road, her front left tire shredded and flat because she had failed to clear the edge of the cow-catcher on the road leading from the Bates ranch. Instead of using the main road, she’d opted for a shortcut, knowing her SUV was capable of going off the road to avoid the cow-catcher, but her tears had blinded her, and her mind hadn’t been concentrating on her driving.