Christmas In Mustang Creek. Linda Lael Miller

her plans to return to Wyoming, he would have known where she was headed.

      No part of him believed it was a coincidence that both he and Charlotte had ties to Mustang Creek. She’d been raised there, and he’d been hired by his friend Nate Cameron to work as a veterinarian in Nate’s practice.

      He’d met Charlotte—Charlie, he called her—through an online dating service. Sort of.

      Except he’d cheated. Sort of. He’d sat next to the girlfriend of one of his college roommates at a cocktail party. The event had taken place in midtown Manhattan. He had been working in a nearby Connecticut town at the time, and he’d come into the city for his friend Remy’s wedding. This woman had studied him over the rim of her cosmopolitan glass, then asked, “Single?”

      No doubt she’d made that assumption because while he’d taken the time to pick out what he considered a nice shirt, he’d still worn jeans and boots. His best boots, expensive, but he’d probably looked like a cowboy. “Not married, not dating,” he’d answered wryly. “The invitation said casual dress. I took it to heart.”

      Her lips had twitched. “You could use a haircut, too, but the look you’ve got going suits your style. Put you in an Armani suit, give you a five-o’clock shadow and you could be on the cover of a magazine. You’re from where?”

      “Originally, Idaho.”

      She’d gotten right to the point. “I know just the girl for you.”

      He’d doubted that, not only because she was dressed in three-inch heels, wore too much perfume and spent most of the time talking on her cell phone, but also because they were strangers. “You don’t know anything about me.”

      “Sure I do. Remy’s mentioned you before. You’re an animal doctor, right? You and Remy and a bunch of other guys all met at Ohio State.”

      He’d nodded. “We shared a house. And, yes, I’m a veterinarian.”

      She’d leaned in a little closer. “I work with this girl who’s beautiful, smart and hates the city as much as you obviously do but won’t admit it. Loves animals and is from a small town. Here’s the catch. She refuses blind dates from friends. I do know that she’s recently joined an online dating service. Let me write down her name for you, plus the site info. It won’t hurt to check out her profile.” Her smile was audacious. “Don’t tell her I had anything to do with it.”

      “Since I don’t know your name, that would be impossible.”

      “We’ll do official introductions if the two of you actually get together, okay?”

      “Okay with me,” he’d said, figuring nothing would come of this odd conversation anyway.

      “She’s a Wyoming girl, Mr. Cowboy. I have a feeling you’ll ride off for bluer skies and fresher air soon—and I think she will, too.”

      The deliberately mysterious woman’s cell had rung again and while she’d answered it, she’d scribbled down Charlotte Morgan on a napkin, along with the name of a popular dating site.

      Even though he’d basically just been playing along, passing the time, Jax had realized he was curious enough to take a look at Ms. Morgan’s profile.

      He’d never even considered online dating. Later, when he got home, he’d typed in the information and, eventually, been completely...well, the English would have called it gobsmacked.

      Charlotte Morgan was beautiful, all right. More than beautiful.

      They’d exchanged a few tentative, getting-to-know-you emails over the coming days, and one fine day they’d agreed to meet for coffee. He’d been doing a stint at a small animal practice just across the state line, so the trip had involved trains and various other methods of transportation.

      When he’d finally met Charlie face-to-face, Jax had discovered that her pictures hadn’t done her justice, and on top of her good looks, she was sexy, intelligent, charming...

      A whirlwind romance later, Charlie still lived in New York and he’d had to go back to Idaho to help his dad, also a vet, after he’d had a heart attack.

      Jax had missed Charlie, but he’d also learned something about himself. The West was still his home, the place where he belonged. He’d realized he wanted to stay—not necessarily in Idaho, since his father, once fully recovered, didn’t really need his help, but somewhere out there, under that sweeping sky.

      He’d asked—okay, practically begged—Charlie to join him, but for reasons he still didn’t fully understand, she’d dug in her heels. Yes, she longed for the wide-open spaces sometimes, she’d said, but she liked her job, her neighborhood, her friends.

      All of a sudden, she claimed to love the city, despite her colleague’s assertion to the contrary, back at Remy’s wedding reception.

      They’d been at an impasse. He wanted to settle in a small town on the other side of the country. She wanted to stay in the city.

      Jax recalled all too well the last time they’d tried to discuss the situation rationally, to arrive at some compromise. They’d just made love, she was still in his arms, but her averted face had made her feelings clear. It was true that she couldn’t have a job making the same sort of salary anywhere except a place that was a major financial and cultural center. It was also true that in a small town she couldn’t walk down the street and pick from a dozen different types of restaurants. No shopping, no theater, no symphony... The list went on.

      A classic standoff. He might be Dr. Locke, but he didn’t have a glamorous profession like most of the men she met. He helped cows give birth and he treated horses, driving to some remote places at some strange hours to do so. He vaccinated dogs and cats, spayed and neutered house pets. No, the work wasn’t glamorous, but it was satisfying. Jax loved animals, loved his job and honestly couldn’t see himself living in a big city for very long. He’d grown up bottle-feeding abandoned kittens and baby goats, ridden horses every day, dug fence posts with the best of them and rarely went to art galleries or museums, her favorite forms of recreation.

      He liked the outdoors; she liked skyscrapers.

       Let’s call the whole thing off.

      They had. Sadly, regretfully, unable to agree, they’d gone their separate ways.

      The trouble was, Jax had never been able to get her off his mind.

      So he was on his way to Mustang Creek, of all places.

      What were the chances he’d know someone from her hometown, wind up practicing there?

      Maybe this was more than a coincidence, a meant-to-be kind of thing. Like sitting beside the woman at Remy’s shindig—her name turned out to be Kendra Nash—and just happening to hear about Charlie for the first time.

      Was fate intervening again? Jax hadn’t expected a job offer when he’d contacted Nate; he’d just wanted to know if there might be openings in the area.

      Charlotte’s last Facebook post had said: “Catching a flight back to Wyoming soon. Goodbye, NY. It’s been nice but I’m heading home. Merry Christmas.”

      Jax punched the hands-free device when his phone rang, startling him a little. Beyond his windshield, the weather was getting worse by the second. “Hello.”

      “Jax, you’re still driving, right? Making progress?”

      Nate Cameron, the man he’d be sharing a practice with.

      Jax answered a little grimly, “Sort of, if you call thirty miles an hour progress. I was hoping to outrun the storm, but obviously that didn’t happen.”

      “I booked you a room at the motel on Main about two hours ago. Last room, in fact. I’d be happy to have you stay with me, but you’ll never find my place in this mess. People miss the drive in broad daylight, never mind the middle of a blizzard. Besides, the way the snow’s drifting, I don’t care what