Montana Homecoming. Jillian Hart

of his stern mouth. Growly on the outside, soft on the inside. “Go fill the cups, would you, Brookie?”

       “Some things never change no matter how long you are away.” She shook her head, also fighting to hide a smile. “Bossy, bossy, bossy.”

       “Someone has to be in charge. Why not me?” Hunter quipped as she grabbed the stack of cups on the counter.

       “Why does it always have to be you?” Luke good-naturedly argued, his voice trailing after her as she headed for the soda machines.

       Her brothers’ banter faded into indistinct rumbles blending with the other conversations in the busy shop. In their way, her brothers were trying to help and she loved them for it. She extracted one cup from the stack and stabbed it beneath the ice dispenser, and the anxious knot in her middle eased a notch. She had been away from home too long. She missed them all so much.

       “Looks like you could use some help.” Colbie sidled in to steal two cups from the stack. “Brianna seems to be holding up well. It can’t be easy to have to relive what happened to her that night.”

       “No, I’m sure it’s not.” She feared her sharp-eyed half sister’s comment had a double meaning, that Colbie was also gently wondering the same about Brooke. She closed the door on her memories, leaving them buried. She filled the cup with root beer, glancing over her shoulder. Bree and her identical twin, Brandi, sat at a table near Lil. Bree’s handsome fiancé towered at her side, his strong arm around her as if determined to protect her from the world.

       Nice. She was so grateful her sister had found someone to love her, someone honest and good. Brianna deserved a happy future.

       Her phone erupted into an electronic tune, surprising her. Who could it be? Root beer sloshed over the rim and onto her knuckles as she clapped on a plastic lid. Most people who would call her were in this restaurant. She thought of the applications she’d sent out before boarding the bus in Seattle. Oh, what if it was someone about a job?

       “I’d better get this.” She opened her bag, heart pounding, fingers fumbling. Please, let it be a good job, she prayed.

       “You go ahead. I’ll finish up.” Colbie shooed her away with an encouraging grin.

       A little swish of hope beat through her as she stepped away. All she needed was a job to get back on her feet—that was all. Just one job. Any job. Her former position hadn’t paid well, but it had included her room and she didn’t need much to get by. She found her phone by feel in the bottom of her bag and checked the number.

       Not an out-of-area phone call, she saw from her phone’s screen, but Liam Knightly’s name. He’d sent her a picture. Odd. She hit a button and a vivid image of a living room popped onto the display. Her jaw dropped at the image in full Technicolor. She stared unblinking at a living room in complete disarray. The couch had no cushions, lamps were toppled and DVDs were scattered all over the floor. Had he been robbed?

       Wait a minute. She remembered a certain yellow Lab and the ham incident. Had Oscar done this? A grin stretched across her face. She couldn’t help it. That dog could sure destroy a room. Clearly a natural talent, poor boy.

       Another chime, another picture. This one appeared to be of a spare bedroom made into an office. A desk’s empty surface shone beneath a sunny windowsill, a printer, a telephone and paper lay on the floor surrounding it. One closet door hung lopsided off its frame. In the corner of the room sat a yellow dog on an overstuffed chair, front paws propped on one chewed-up arm, a deliriously happy grin on his canine face.

       “That’s a cute dog.” Colbie glanced over her shoulder. “Why did he do that to the room?”

       “Separation anxiety. How did Liam get my number?”

       “It’s a mystery.” Eyes sparkling, Colbie sashayed away loaded down with soda cups.

       It was no mystery at all. Brooke rolled her eyes. A text message filled her screen.

      I need professional help, Liam wrote.

      That’s a private matter between you and your therapist. Her thumbs flew across the keys.

       Funny. Just what I need. A comedic dog trainer.

       She huffed out a breath. I’m not a dog trainer.

       Colbie said U were.

      She sighed. Colbie is a meddler.

      That doesn’t change the fact I need a dog trainer. U interested?

      The image of his face, of the amused, easygoing gleam in his striking blue eyes, came to her as easily as if he stood in front of her. Definitely a bad sign and a hint that maybe she should turn down his job offer.

       But, come to think of it, she could use the work. Clearly Oscar could use some help adjusting to his new home. Her thumbs tapped out an answer. Maybe.

      I’ll pay whatever U want. His words seemed frantic. Just help me.

       I’m not sure U can be trained, but I can try.

       Me? What about Oscar?

      For his sake, I’ll do it. She hit Send, shaking her head. So, she had a job of sorts after all.

       Her phone chimed with Liam’s next text. Great. Whew. I need your help desperately.

      With a little training up, I think you will make a fine dog owner, she typed and hit Send.

       “I haven’t seen you smile like that in a decade.” Hunter ambled up, carrying two loaded trays of sandwiches. “Got a boyfriend we don’t know about?”

       “He’s not even a friend and that’s the way it will stay, so don’t look at me like that.”

       “Like what?”

       “Like you know something I don’t.” Brothers. She grabbed the rest of the sodas and joined her brother at the two tables the family had claimed. After she handed out the drinks, her cell chimed again.

      Me? I don’t need training. I already know how to sit. How to fetch.

       She could imagine the manly crinkles in the corners of Liam’s eyes as he grinned, typing those words. She eased into a chair, tapping out an answer on the keys. It’s a start. Text me your address and I’ll swing by after court.

       “Brooke, we’re waiting on you to say grace.” Hunter frowned as if annoyed as he stacked the emptied trays. His annoyance was pure show. His dark gaze shone with gentleness.

       “Oops.” She stuffed her phone into her bag and bowed her head as Hunter began the prayer. She added silent thanks for her blessings of family and a plea for poor Oscar. If things didn’t work out, she would hate for him to go back to living behind barred doors. She shivered, breaking a little inside at the memory. She knew exactly how heartbreaking that existence could be.

      * * *

       Squinting against the late afternoon sun shining in her eyes, she pulled to a stop at the curb. The small pickup she’d borrowed from Brianna idled roughly as she put it in Park.

       This was Liam’s house? She studied the bungalow shaded by two broadleaf maples. The front porch framed two spacious windows and a front door, giving the home a smiling look.

       A bark erupted the moment she opened the truck’s door. A golden blur streaked across the tidy lawn as she rose to her feet.

       “No, Oscar! No!” Liam’s laughter held no sting as his command echoed in the front yard. He raced into sight but not fast enough to stop the golden blur from springing over a row of low shrubbery.

       She caught sight of ears up, tongue lolling and bright canine eyes gleaming. She braced for impact, just in case. “Oscar, sit.”

       Did it work? Not a chance. Paws hit her shoulders, a tongue swiped from her chin to her forehead and she sat down hard on the sidewalk, eighty pounds of dog in her lap.

       “Brooke, are you all right?” Liam’s concern,