Once Upon a Time in Tarrula / To Wed a Rancher. Myrna Mackenzie

would never allow that kind of empathy.

      She’d known that even before she saw the photos on the wall that told her in stark images who he was and where he’d come from.

      And what he’d lost, because he would never have chosen to step away from that army life. That truth was also tacked to his wall in those timeless images: camaraderie. Group shots with other soldiers. Training events. And real events that Stacie wasn’t sure she wanted to think too much about. That was his identity and belonging. There wouldn’t be room for the softer emotions in such a life.

      She struggled to pull her thoughts back together. ‘I came to tell you I’ve lost your—’

      ‘The dog got away on you. Actually, I planned to come over once I finished my workout.’ His gaze shifted to a corner of the room where a sports bag sat on the floor.

      A little dog sat beside it.

      ‘Oh, I’m so relieved that he’s okay, but how did he get out of my yard? It’s properly dog-proofed. I made sure of that when I first moved here, for Fang’s sake.’

      Troy’s gaze examined the small animal. ‘I don’t know why he’d want to come here anyway.’

      The dog had no microchip. Troy had discovered that yesterday when he’d taken it to the vet. Stacie had asked Troy to advertise locally and wait a couple of weeks before he did anything more. But the idea was for the dog to stay with her in the interim.

      ‘Dratted poodle,’ she said.

      ‘Damned Houdini dog,’ Troy said at the same time.

      ‘Oh. That’s a perfect name for him.’ A smile melted Stacie’s anxiety away. ‘And I’ll take him back, get him out of the way while you finish—’

      ‘I’m about done, anyway.’ Troy’s glance moved between her and the dog. ‘It’s just a good way to ease the kinks out after a big day in the orchards.’

      After just two days, his efforts out there were already noticeable.

      In fact, she’d done rather too much noticing as Troy had gone about his work.

      Now Stacie was filled with curiosity and words popped out before she could stop herself.

      ‘Would you like to join me for dinner?’ She should stay away from him, but she wanted to get to know him.

      Stacie wanted to know about those army photos. That could just be a very understandable neighbourly curiosity.

      Except it went much deeper than that. This man had wounds, physical wounds that had changed his life.

      Just as Stacie had emotional wounds that she had to get over.

      Well, she was trying.

      And Troy would probably say no to coming to dinner, anyway. Troy glanced at the dog. ‘I feel I’m asking more than I should of you already.’

      ‘I offered to mind him.’ As though the rest really didn’t matter, she shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s just a slow-cooker meal that I put on this morning.’

      He hesitated for a moment before he inclined his head. ‘A home-cooked meal would be nice.’

      Troy had watched Stacie’s face as she invited him to dinner. He’d known he should say no to the invitation. She owed him nothing and it was better to keep to their boundaries.

      But would it be so bad to spend an hour looking at … sparkling bluebells? What harm would that do, really? Provided he treated the dinner in the way it was intended.

       But just how is it intended, Rushton? Is it an uncomplicated invitation? For you? And for her?

      She’d seen his shattered knee. There’d been no revulsion, and no pity that he could discern. And he didn’t want her pity, hers, or anyone’s. She’d just offered dinner. Maybe out of guilt for losing the dog, though he would never have blamed her for that. So he would have dinner with her.

       Get to know Stacie better?

      Maybe. But that was a neighbourly, appropriate thing to do.

      It wasn’t like him to get bogged down in second-guessing things. Troy set the thoughts aside; he would go. That was all. It would be fine. ‘Ten minutes?’

      ‘Ten minutes.’ A soft smile lit her face. She lifted one hand to tuck strands of silky-brown hair behind a shell-like ear.

      Pink; her nail-polish was pink now.

      He honed his gaze, took a step closer.

      Moons and stars; Stacie had decorated her nails with far away moons and stars. She crouched to call the poodle to her and then she was gone.

       Moons and stars.

      Troy shook his head, and a small, appreciative smile crept across his lips.

      ‘Thank you for this.’ Troy ate another bite of the beef-and-vegetable casserole before he went on. ‘It’s delicious. Just the right kind of food for this cold weather. Where did you learn to cook?’

      They were seated at the dining table in Stacie’s kitchen. Somehow the table had never seemed quite this cosy to Stacie. Indeed, it seated four—six at a stretch. Troy’s presence seemed to fill her home. Stacie felt on edge on the one hand, and oddly relaxed and happy on the other.

      It must be because Troy was easy to talk to, interesting, and a sound conversationalist on a range of topics from local sports to international politics. She hadn’t expected that—for him to put her at her ease with his conversation. Yet there were moments when she thought his gaze lingered on her eyes, and her breath would catch. That was such a dangerous way to feel.

       Don’t go there, Stacie. Don’t start letting thoughts rise that have no place between you and him, and no place in your life any more at all.

      She could not allow herself to be hurt again. She’d made her decision. That meant she steered clear from any possibility of those kinds of entanglements.

      ‘Mum taught me and my sisters the basics of how to cook, and then encouraged us to explore.’ Stacie took another bite of meat and slowly chewed it. ‘We used to take turns picking out a dinner and making it each week when we were all teenagers. One of my favourites was a pie made of polenta and topped with grilled tomato, onion and garlic. For a man who likes meat and three veg in a fairly plain presentation, I’m not sure how Dad survived my experimental phase.’

      She didn’t mention that her sisters were both stunning women. Well, it wasn’t relevant to this conversation, was it? And Stacie didn’t resent their beauty. Of course she didn’t.

      She missed those family times, but what could she do?

      Troy glanced at his almost empty plate. ‘I can’t imagine you producing anything that wasn’t appealing. How many sisters do you have?’

      It was just conversation, just an exchange of interest. But Stacie’s tone didn’t portray the simplicity it should have as she replied. ‘I have two sisters. The eldest is married and the other is … involved with someone.’

      Troy’s gaze sharpened. He was going to ask something and Stacie didn’t want him to. She didn’t want to feel exposed.

      In the living room beyond them, Fang rolled over in front of the electric heater and gave a doggy sigh. He seemed content with Houdini napping beside him, leaving Troy and Stacie to their heater in the kitchen.

      ‘Would you like coffee, Troy?’ Stacie got quickly to her feet and busied herself filling the jug with water.

      Once they were made, they took the drinks to the living room.

      Troy shook his head over the dogs and sat in one of Stacie’s lounge chairs. He’d let the earlier conversation go easily, and Stacie was grateful for it.

      Now he said, ‘It must be nice to be