High Country Homecoming. Roxanne Rustand

of a warrior? If he didn’t qualify for the security-company job in New York, what other career was there for a man like him? None.

      So this morning he’d risen early. Even before doing chores, he’d done two reps of the exercises given by his physical therapist. Started lifting weights again to build the strength in his damaged right arm and shoulder. He’d run four miles.

      And then he’d gone back to the meadow and burned through another hundred rounds of ammo.

      His aim had been even worse and his shoulder joint was still on fire from the stress—too shaky to even hold a cup of coffee by the time he’d finished shooting. His muscles ached.

      But he could not afford to give up, and he was determined to complete this same routine every single day until he was as good as the man he’d been before. Or better.

      Surprised to see an urgent text from Chloe, Devlin awkwardly unsaddled the two-year-old he was starting to work out in the arena, put him in a stall and drove the four-wheeler up to Chloe’s cabin.

      Even before coming to a stop, he could smell warm cookies, fresh from the oven, and something else that was rich with cinnamon and butter. Homemade bread?

      Almost dizzy from the tantalizing aroma, he took a deep breath and headed for the front steps of the cabin, where Chloe was crouched next to something covered in a fluffy yellow afghan.

      “Look at this poor thing,” she said, her voice wavering. “Just look at how badly she’s hurt.”

      She edged sideways and pulled back the afghan to reveal a large, gaunt dog covered in matted fur—gray or white, he couldn’t tell. One of its front legs appeared badly mangled, but with all of that thick fur crusted with dried blood, dirt and twigs, it was hard to see. Now that it had been uncovered, he detected the foul odor of infection.

      “Does she have a collar?” he said in a low voice.

      “No. And she’s really weak. She needs to get to a vet before it’s too late.” She looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. “But my SUV can’t make it up the narrow trail and I can’t carry her down. Will you help me?”

      He hesitated. He’d seen this sort of thing before and knew the dog’s chances were slim, given its overall poor condition. The vet bills for this stray could be huge. But like Chloe, he’d never been able to turn away from something—or someone—in need.

      Except for his own father and brother, three years ago, and that was a burden of guilt he would never escape.

      “I’ll bring the four-wheeler up close. Do you have any long pieces of cloth we can use for a muzzle? She’s in a lot of pain and might bite when we try to move her.”

      Chloe nodded and disappeared into the cabin, then returned with a bedsheet covered with pink flowers.

      “Don’t worry, this sheet didn’t come with the cabin. It’s one of mine,” she explained as she ripped a long strip from it and helped him form a soft figure eight around the dog’s nose and the back of her head.

      Her fingertips brushed his hand as they fastened the makeshift muzzle, and there it was again—the little flash of warmth and awareness that shot up his arm and landed square in his chest. And from her indrawn breath and the shocked look in her big eyes, she felt it, too. She fumbled at securing the knot, and they had to start all over again.

      Bearing most of the weight with his good arm, he helped Chloe ease the dog onto part of the afghan and used it as a sling to lift her into the back cargo area of the four-wheeler. The animal raised her head for a moment and whimpered, then dropped back down and thumped her tail weakly.

      On their way down to the hill, Chloe crouched over the dog, trying to hold her steady while Devlin drove slowly around the worst of the rocky bumps, then headed for his own SUV.

      “No,” Chloe protested. “If you just tell me where the vet clinic is, I can take her. I know you’re busy, and anyway this was my idea. My work can wait, and I should take responsibility.”

      “We can figure that out later.” Devlin pulled out his cell phone and googled Pine Bend veterinarians, called what appeared to be the only clinic in town these days and then slipped the phone back into his pocket. “They said to bring the dog on in. I’ll drive.”

      “But—”

      He set his jaw. “You might need help.”

      She finally capitulated and helped gently move the dog into the back of his SUV. She gave Devlin a grateful smile. “I’m not sure if I turned off the stove. Can I use the four-wheeler to run up and check?”

      He nodded tersely and ran a gentle hand over the dog’s quivering flank, then covered her with part of the afghan and shut the tailgate. He got behind the wheel and started the motor.

      He’d intended to simply disappear at the Langford ranch for a while, to drop out of sight while physically preparing for what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. A life that would be far different now than what he’d always imagined.

      And he’d intended to avoid Pine Bend for however long he stayed.

      He could well imagine the small-town gawkers and their avid curiosity over a Langford son returning with obvious injuries from a war far away. Thanks to his father, the Langford name spurred resentment in some and envy in others. There would be stares. Whispers. Intrusive questions. And, of course, the effusive, empty show of sympathy that he recoiled from every single time.

      Yet here he was, heading for town. His resolve had lasted all of four days, thanks to Chloe and her compassionate heart. But how could he refuse?

      At least he didn’t recognize the vet’s name, so maybe she was new to town since he’d left home. Maybe she wouldn’t even recognize the Langford name.

      Chloe was gone and back again in a flash, and when she climbed into the front seat of his SUV, she put a foil-covered paper plate on the console between them and settled a stainless steel tumbler into the cupholder.

      “The stove was already off, but while I was there I took my bread out of the breadmaker, and decided I should bring you these as thanks for helping me. Milk and cookies.”

      The intoxicating aroma of chocolate chip cookies filled the air when she lifted the foil.

      She looked up at him with a twinkle in her eyes. “And, I admit, giving these cookies away is a desperate ploy on my part, because I cannot leave them alone.”

      Taken aback by the thoughtful gesture, his gaze locked on hers and time seemed to stand still. How could someone this pretty still be single?

      He snorted under his breath. That didn’t take much thought. She’d been a persistent little pest when she was younger. If she was anything like that now, prospective boyfriends probably hit the road in record time...

      Only, that wasn’t really true.

      He’d believed it as a callow teenage boy, wrapped up in his own world, with little regard for the child who’d looked up to him like some hero.

      The truth was that she’d been sweet and thoughtful as a little girl, and she was just as sweet and thoughtful now. And pretty. Really pretty. The kind of woman who made a man look twice, catch his breath and then think about a lifetime commitment.

      So why was she here alone, instead of raising a family of pretty little redheads somewhere, with an adoring husband at her side?

      He cleared his throat and turned the key in the ignition, forcing his attention to the ranch lane ahead and then the highway into town. Not his business.

      He’d be leaving the ranch by July, she’d be leaving even sooner. There was no sense in thinking about anything beyond basic courtesy.

      But he was already sure that he wouldn’t stop thinking about her anytime soon, and he definitely wouldn’t stop thinking about those cookies. He’d finished every last one by the time they were halfway into town, and he still wanted