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

think you have a good chance of succeeding.’ He sounded impressed rather than concerned, so that had to be good, didn’t it?

      ‘Thank you. I hope so. Let’s find a coat for this dog.’ Stacie tried for a brisk tone to cover up the wash of pleasure his praise and encouragement had given her. ‘Do you have heating at your new home?’ The coat she picked up was chocolate brown. ‘This should do.’

      ‘I do have operational heating, yes.’

      ‘That’s good. It won’t have to be cold.’ Great. That sounded as though she cared about the dog, but not about Troy.

      Stacie tugged the last stick-on from one blue nail. The rest had come off in the water as she bathed the dog. Maybe it was the lack of her signature nail-art that was making her words so interpretable.

      And maybe she was distracted by the presence of a certain gorgeous man! ‘Of course I don’t want you to be cold either, Troy.’

      She drew a breath. ‘Well, I wouldn’t mind having the dog until things get sorted out. It could be in the yard with Fang until you find out if there’s an owner. Fang is good with other animals.’

      ‘That’d be great, thanks. If you’d do that, it’d save taking it to the pound while I advertise for any owners.’ Troy didn’t try to talk her out of the idea. His hand rose to the back of his head. ‘I don’t see myself as much of a dog minder, but I’ll cover all the costs for its food and lodgings.’

      She thought he mumbled that he was better at manning a machine gun.

      Before she could think about that, he added, ‘I don’t want to burden you, though.’

      ‘It’s okay.’ It was more than okay, and in the end, even if he obviously didn’t want the dog himself, and might not be all that attached to dogs on the whole, he was being generous. ‘I don’t mind having him while we figure out if there’s an owner out there.’

      If the answer to that question turned out to be no, they would deal with the next step at that time.

      As they retraced their steps down the hallway, Troy spoke again. ‘I should get back to my place. There are a few things left that didn’t get done at the weekend.’

      His words made Stacie realise how easily she could have lingered, talking to him, letting time drift when that was the last thing she should be doing with her new neighbour.

      ‘And I should get on with my Bow-wow-tique work. It keeps me busy.’ In the evenings, when other people would be doing things with their partners.

      The thought wasn’t exactly uplifting so she pushed itaway. She would also do her nails again tonight. Pink, Stacie decided, with star-and-moon stickers.

      They made their way to the front of the house. Once in the foyer, she dropped to her knees. The poodle obligingly came over to sniff at her hands. She quickly got dog and coat put together and fastened up.

      ‘Thanks for offering to keep it.’ Troy stepped towards Stacie’s door. ‘I’ll swing by early tomorrow and collect it to take it to the vet to be checked for that microchip.’

      ‘The dog will be in the yard with Fang. If you can’t raise me, or I’ve already left for work or anything, just take him.’

      You see? That was all fine. They’d had a normal, neighbourly transaction. Now Troy was leaving and tomorrow they might see each other here or at the plant and that would be completely fine as well.

      Stacie told herself all was well, and indeed she was fine until their glances met and she thought she found parts of herself in the depths of his eyes, in the way he seemed to guard himself.

       Do not decide you know him, or that you share traits with him, Stacie.

      All that kind of thinking could do for her was cause problems, and she didn’t know the man at all. But she did know he was single.

       Yes. Great one to dwell on right now, Stacie.

      ‘I guess I might see you tomorrow morning.’

      ‘Yeah.’ He backed a step and then another. ‘Have a good night.’

      Troy walked back to his farm.

      Stacie went through the house and Fang flopped down in front of the kitchen heater in his pink outfit, while Stacie started organising her dinner. The little poodle stayed just inside her front door. Was it watching for Troy to return? But of course Troy didn’t, and eventually the dog came into the kitchen too.

      Stacie sighed. ‘Well, I hope Troy didn’t think I was frivolous because of my creations, but he was quite supportive of my business. That’s generous, really, considering I’m planning to leave my job at the plant eventually.’

      True, but Troy himself was happy to own the plant and didn’t want to spend all his time working there.

      Stacie got on with her evening, enjoying Fang and the little dog’s company, working on her Bow-wow-tique sewing and online marketing.

      She didn’t think about Troy at his nearby farm. She barely noticed when she happened to glance out of a window to see him go to one of the outbuildings and start shifting home-gym equipment about in there as though he really meant business with it.

      Stacie draped a tape measure around her neck, repainted her nails and added the new stick-ons. She worked at her sewing some more. She didn’t imagine Troy thinking of her hard at work on her hobby. As if he would spare it or her a thought. Stacie might like her fantasy nails, but in life she understood she needed to be firmly grounded in reality.

      CHAPTER THREE

      ‘I CAN’T believe I’ve lost Troy’s dog. Well, his stray dog, but it’s the same thing!’ Stacie hurried the short distance from her front yard to Troy’s yard. She’d been everywhere—down to the creek, through her two paddocks, along the lane that led to the road. Fang had gone with her, but he hadn’t proved much worth as a sniffer dog. He’d been too busy sniffing leaves and sticks. Right now he was shut back in the yard.

      Stacie pushed open the door to Troy’s shed. She’d planned to casually and calmly ask for his help to search for the dog. That plan unravelled the moment she caught sight of him.

      He was seated on a bench, lifting a set of weights. He had on a grey sleeveless knit-shirt, a darker-grey pair of shorts and trainers on his feet. As he moved, muscles across his upper body and in his legs and thighs flexed.

      The slight breathlessness from her hurried search for the poodle suddenly became acute.

      Troy was … beautiful. Absolutely toned everywhere, with strong, defined muscles and a hardness that seemed not only to be on the outside of him, but within.

      There were marks on him—a scar across one shoulder and upper arm. And on his leg lines of scar tissue above and below the knee, and the knee itself was misshapen as though pieces had shattered away.

       Oh, Troy. How did this happen to you?

      On the walls in the shed were photographs: men in uniform, out of uniform, carrying guns, out in the field. Troy featured in many of them. His physique had already suggested such a background. Stacie had known he’d be muscled but seeing it in this way wasn’t quite the same as thinking about it. Seeing his injury … And the expression on Troy’s face …

      All emotion had been cleared, wiped away and replaced by utter focus presented in a sharp, closed determination. He looked controlled and ready for anything.

      She’d just seen a glimpse into his world, into why ownership of a processing plant and orchards hadn’t seemed to fully fit him, though she had no doubt he’d succeed at both.

      Before she had time to be stunned by that glimpse into her new neighbour, even perhaps to wonder if she should feel intimidated, the concentration on Troy’s face changed as he noted her entrance. He set the weights down and rose.

      ‘I