With her return to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, New York Times bestselling author Lindsay McKenna shows how love can find a way out of the darkness...

A fresh start—that’s all Devorah McGuire wants. As a former Marine and current Ranger with the US Forest Service, she’s grown accustomed to keeping others safe. But when the unthinkable happens, she can only hope that a transfer to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, will allow her to put the past behind her for good.

Dev’s mentor at Grand Tetons National Park is fellow canine handler and horseman Sloan Rankin. He shows Dev the spectacular trails, never knowing the terror that stalks her every move. Despite her lingering fear, Dev feels an attraction for Sloan as wild as their surroundings.

With Sloan, Dev can envision a new life—a real home. Unless a vengeful man fresh out of prison succeeds in finishing what he started...

Praise for New York Times bestselling author Lindsay McKenna

“A treasure of a book...highly recommended reading that everyone will enjoy and learn from.”

—Chief Michael Jaco, US Navy SEAL, retired, on Breaking Point

“Heartbreakingly tender...readers will fall in love with the upstanding hero and his fierce determination to save the woman he loves.”

—Publishers Weekly on Never Surrender (starred review)

“McKenna skillfully takes readers on an emotional journey into modern warfare and two people’s hearts.”

—Publishers Weekly on Down Range

“Packed full of danger and adventure. Fans of military romance will appreciate the strong female characters, steamy sex scenes, and details of military life.”

—Booklist on Taking Fire

“This was a beautiful and heartwarming story. Grayson and Skylar are an awesome alpha pair.”

—Night Owl Reviews on Wolf Haven

“Readers will find this addition to the Shadow Warriors series full of intensity and action-packed romance. There is great chemistry between the characters and tremendous realism, making Breaking Point a great read.”

—RT Book Reviews

Out Rider
Lindsay McKenna

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

This is a bittersweet note to all of you. Out Rider is the final book of the Wyoming series. Like you, I’ve grown to love Iris Mason of the Elk Horn Ranch and feisty Gus Hunter of the Bar H, the other matriarch of ranching families in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

In this book, I’ve tried to tie up a bunch of loose ends so that my loyal readers know “what happened next” to some of the other characters. I had a lot of fun doing it and I hope it brings out a few chuckles and smiles from you.

The entire series is being put into Audio.com for those who love to listen instead of read. Just type in any of the titles and they’ll be there for your listening enjoyment. I want to thank senior executive editor Tara Gavin for shepherding these last two books of mine (Night Hawk and Out Rider), because it was pure joy working with her in our creative synastry.

I wanted to write Sloan Rankin’s story for a long time. Most people don’t know that the US Forest Service has rangers who are farriers. They go around trimming and shoeing the mules and horses utilized by the Park Service. And I wanted to highlight their service because it’s an important one.

Sloan was a great character to play opposite Devorah McGuire, a US Forest Service ranger. Dev’s story happens more than one would think. She was in the military, a combat dog handler who hunted for IEDs in Afghanistan. Getting a job as a ranger and tracker is a dream come true for Dev. With her trusty female yellow Labrador, Bella, she’s running away from a dangerous situation, turning a page and hoping for a new start out in the Tetons. Only Dev didn’t expect to meet a man and his dog in a highly unusual way. But you’ll have to read the book to find out what happens next! Happy reading!

And thank you for taking this journey with me to Jackson Hole, Wyoming. It’s a place I visit every other year with great joy. And I hope I’ve transferred some of the beauty of this magnificent area onto each of you.

Subscribe to my newsletter that is chock-full of exclusives, a giveaway and so much more at lindsaymckenna.com.

To Tara Gavin, senior executive editor, who has shadowed my 36-year career with her magic. What a team we were in the past (1980s–1999) and then now (2013–present). It’s a pleasure sharing this ongoing journey with you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dear Reader

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

OH, HELL! Devorah McGuire gripped the steering wheel of her truck, knuckles whitening as she felt the unexpected sway of her horse trailer behind her. Automatically, she tensed, taking her foot off the gas pedal and signaling to move onto the berm on the four-lane highway leading into Jackson Hole, Wyoming. The traffic at 9:00 a.m. on a Tuesday going into the popular tourist destination was fairly heavy. Everyone was heading into work, she supposed. Her buckskin mare, Goldy, was in the back of a two-horse trailer. She hadn’t heard one of the four tires blow out, but she’d sure felt it. Her trailer had two tires on each side to carry a horse’s weight.

Slowing, Dev eased the truck off onto the shoulder. It was wide enough to be able to pull the trailer safely out of traffic, and would allow her to walk around and inspect the trailer to see which tire had blown. She was worried what Goldy, her ten-year-old trail mare, thought about the sudden blowout, but Dev didn’t sense the horse was agitated. If a horse was stressed, it shifted nervously around in the trailer and it could be felt by the driver. The May Wyoming sky was threatening rain and she hoped to reach the Grand Teton National Park, about twenty miles north of Jackson Hole, before the cranky weather arrived.

Climbing out of the truck, dressed in Levi’s, a red flannel shirt and work boots, she pulled on her heavy winter coat because it was near freezing.

“Hey, girl,” Dev called to her mare as she walked to the blue-and-white trailer. “You okay?”

Goldy whickered, turning her head toward her.

Dev saw the blown tire right away. The trailer had a double axle to bear the weight of two one-thousand-pound animals. The front tire on the driver’s side was shredded. More concerned about her mare, Dev went to the other side, opened the side door that led into a small compartment where she could check on her horse and stow hay and other items. Dev smiled at Goldy. “Hey, girl, how you doing?”

Goldy whickered again, sticking her black nose forward toward Dev’s extended fingers. The mare had on a bright red nylon halter and the chain beneath it was fitted to a solid iron loop so she was not loose in the narrow stall.

“Did that scare you to death?” Dev asked her, gently rubbing the mare’s white blaze that divided the front of her dainty face. Goldy’s large brown eyes looked a little more unsettled than normal and Dev couldn’t blame her. Petting her and leaning forward, extending her hand across the mare’s thick winter-haired neck, she moved her long black mane aside. That touch would quickly settle her friend down, and so would her soothing, husky voice. The mare’s ears flicked back and forth and she began to relax once more beneath Dev’s long stroking motions across her neck.

“Heck of a welcome to our new digs, isn’t it, girl?” Dev asked, smiling at Goldy. The mare snorted and tossed her head.

Dev grinned and looked up, seeing a dark blue Ford pickup truck with a cab on the back of it pull up behind her. “We got company, big girl.” She gave Goldy one last pat and exited the compartment, shutting the door.

She noticed a tall man wearing a beat-up tan Stetson in the driver’s seat. On the side of his truck she saw the sign: Sloan Rankin, Farrier. He was a blacksmith. Rubbing her hands down the sides of her jeans in the cold wind, Dev watched him climb out of his truck. There was a big dog on the passenger side, looking somewhat like a German shepherd, ears pricked, watching intently through the windshield, fully focused on her.

The man was in his late twenties or maybe his early thirties, the Stetson he wore sweat stained around the crown and shaped so that the brim was set low over his pale blue eyes. He wore a green canvas barn coat, jeans and beat-up cowboy boots that were scuffed and well aged. Most of all, Dev liked the kindness she saw in his square weathered face. He wasn’t handsome but rugged looking, his eyes wide spaced, large and intelligent. His dark brown hair was cut short, brows straight across his eyes. She relaxed because she saw a faint smile tug at the corners of his well-shaped mouth as he approached her.

“Howdy, ma’am,” he said, touching the brim of his Stetson. “I saw you blow a tire back there,” he continued, gesturing behind him. “You all right? Your horse okay?” And he halted about six feet from her, lifting his chin, sizing up the horse in the trailer.

“Yes, I’m fine and so is my mare, thanks. You must have good eyes to have seen it happen that far back.” She gazed up at him. The look in his blue eyes reminded her of a soft midday summer sky, and it warmed Dev for no obvious reason.

He shrugged. “My ma and pa always said I was part eagle.” He held out his hand. “I’m Sloan Rankin.”

Taking his gloved hand, she said, “Dev McGuire. Thanks for stopping.”

“Let me help you change that tire?” he said, releasing her hand. Looking toward the gunmetal-gray sky, he added, “Going to rain or snow shortly. Where do you keep your jack? In the forward compartment of your horse trailer?”

Dev nodded. Her heart wouldn’t settle down. The man had a soft drawl, not quite full Southern, but he was definitely not a northerner by the inflection in his deep, unhurried tone. “Yes, forward compartment. I can help you. I’m really used to doing this on my own.” She flashed him a slight smile of thanks as they walked toward the trailer.

“Well,” Sloan drawled, slowing his lanky pace for her benefit, “a woman shouldn’t have to change tires if she doesn’t have to.”

Dev pushed some of her shoulder-length black hair away from her face, the wind carrying it around her. “I appreciate the help, believe me.”

“Where you comin’ from?” he asked, halting and opening the door. He pointed at the license plate on the rear of the trailer.

Dev leaned down, drawing out the tools to fix the tire. “From the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I’ve just been transferred from there to out here, to the Teton National Park.”

Picking up the tools, Sloan’s brows moved up in surprise. “You a forest ranger?”

“I am indeed.”

He shut the door. “Well, this is your lucky day, Miss McGuire. I just happen to be a ranger at Teton Park.” He gave her a grin as he walked around the trailer.

“Seriously? You are?” Dev leaned down and picked up rocks the size of cantaloupes and placed them behind and in front of the four tires. It would stop the trailer from rocking back and forth as he worked. Or if Goldy shifted. It was a safety measure.

Sloan gently patted the gold rump of her horse as he walked by her. “I’m dead serious,” he told her.

“But,” Dev said, frowning, “it says ‘farrier’ on your truck door.”

“Oh, that.” Sloan crouched down on the dry, gravelly soil, using his glove to make the area clean of small rocks that might bite into his knees. “I’m officially a US forest ranger and I’m in charge of shoeing all the mules and horses for Grand Teton Park and Yellowstone Park. On my days off, I pick up some money on the side by shoeing at the local ranches around the valley.”

Dev quickly found more rocks. She placed them around the tire next to the blown one. It was critical when changing a horse trailer tire that it be stable. “Wow, what luck this is, then.” She smiled as he knelt down and slid the jack beneath the frame of the trailer. If Goldy had been on the side that had blown the tire, Dev would have had to unload the mare. As it was, she was on the other side, taking most of the weight off the left side where Sloan would be working. The wind was icy and Dev slid her hands beneath her armpits, wishing she’d put on her gloves.

“Quite a change,” Sloan told her, quickly putting the trailer up high enough on the left side to raise the blown tire off the soil, “from the Smoky Mountains to the Tetons. You probably know we get eight months of winter out here.” He moved his gloved hands with knowing ease, quickly removing the lug nuts and pulling the tire off the axle and setting it aside.

“I was warned,” Dev said. “I’ve got the spare. Hold on, I’ll get it for you.”

She hurried around and found it in the front compartment, lugging it around with both hands in front of her. Sloan met her, easily taking it out of her grasp. “Thanks,” she said.

“No problem.” He settled the tire on the axle, pulled off his gloves and put on the lug nuts to hold it in place.

Dev watched him work with speed and efficiency. Sloan had long, almost graceful-looking hands, but they were the hands of a farrier, for sure. She saw the thick calluses across his palms and on his fingers where he held his tools to fire and shape iron horseshoes. He wasn’t heavily muscled. Most farriers she’d met were short and on the thin side. Sloan was tall and lean. For whatever ridiculous reason, Dev wondered if he was married. Most likely. And from his easygoing nature and genteel drawl, he probably had a bunch of kids, too. He seemed like a fatherly type: calm, quiet and patient.

This man was a far cry from her stalker, Bart Gordon, another forest ranger at the park she’d just left. She couldn’t help but be deluged by memories, especially out alone like this. He too was tall, with dark brown, alert-looking eyes. But his face resembled a mean horse’s face: eyes set closely together, small and malicious looking. As Dev stood nearby, watching Sloan quickly tighten up the lug nuts, she automatically placed her fingers against her exposed throat, her skin cold to her touch. Gordon had stalked her for a year, always trying to corner her, touch her, ask for a kiss, which she’d refused to give him.

Don’t go there. But her heart automatically began to pound as Dev starkly recalled the evening at the ranger headquarters when she had been alone, getting ready to close up the visitor’s center. Gordon had waited, hidden, when she went into the back room to put the money in the safe. He’d jumped her, then knocked her down and started tearing at her shirt, popping the buttons off. Dev closed her eyes, willing away that terrifying experience, the fear skittering through her like a knife blade sliding through her tightening gut.

“You all right, Miss McGuire?”

Sloan’s low voice was near and it startled her. Ever since Gordon had jumped her, she’d been filled with anxiety, afraid of her own shadow. With a gasp, Dev’s eyes flew open and she leaped back. Staring up at him, she saw confusion and then regret come to Sloan’s expression.

“Sorry,” he said. “I startled you.” He turned and pointed toward the trailer. “Tire’s fixed and you’re ready to go.”

Gulping, Dev whispered, “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean... I...” She gave him an apologetic look. “I’m just jumpy.”

Nodding, Sloan said, “Understandable. You’re in a new state, new area with a new job. That’s enough to make a polecat wanna leap around.”

He pushed the brim of his hat up a little, studying her. Dev McGuire had gone pale on him except for two red spots on her cheeks from the near-freezing temperature. His low, soothing words seemed to calm her and her eyes no longer reflected menace. There was nothing threatening around him that he could discern, so Sloan wrote it off as that blown tire. It would spook anyone when they were carrying a beloved animal in a trailer. It took a damn good driver to safely bring a horse in a trailer to a standstill after a tire had blown. She had the skills.

“C-could you tell me how to get to Teton Park, Mr. Rankin?” Dev said, trying to collect her strewn thoughts. Every time she had a flashback on Gordon jumping her, she was shaking for the next few hours. She could feel her stomach curling and tightening, her breath a little ragged and shallow. “I need to put my mare, Goldy, in the barn area.”

“Call me Sloan. I’ll do you one better than that,” he reassured her. “Follow me. I’ll take you right to the barn. That way, you won’t get lost. Sound good to you?”

Did it ever! Dev gave him a grateful look. “Wonderful. Are you sure I’m not taking you out of your way?”

“Naw,” Sloan replied, pulling out a cell phone from his worn back pocket. “I was going to shoe Triple H Ranch horses today, but I’ll call ’em and let ’em know I’ll be a tad late. They won’t mind.”

Tension bled out of Dev and her stomach unknotted. It usually took hours for her to relax. Did it have to do with Sloan? He didn’t seem like someone who got rattled about anything. But then, her knowledge of horses and blacksmiths told her that the men and women who entered that trade were all like him: calm, quiet and possessing a low voice that just naturally put tense horses and mules at ease. Hell, he’d put her at ease! Smiling to herself, she said, “Great. Thanks. I’ll just follow you, then.” She walked quickly around the trailer and climbed into her truck.

* * *

SLOAN WAS MET by a whine from Mouse, his brindle-colored Belgian Malinois dog on his front seat. The dog’s cinnamon eyes danced with excitement, his pink tongue lolling out the side of his long, black muzzle. After patting Mouse, his dog moved over to the other side to allow Sloan into the cab. He was excitedly thumping his lean tail.

“She’s kinda pretty, isn’t she?” Sloan asked his companion.

Mouse whined, thumping his tail even harder and faster.

“You probably think I’m talking about that good-looking yellow Lab she owns hanging her head out her truck window. Don’t you?” Sloan grinned, roughing up his male dog’s dark brown fur. “Two nice-looking females,” he agreed as the dog sat obediently as he closed the door.

Sloan pulled his truck around Dev’s and signaled, easing into the nearest lane. Right now, there was no traffic coming their way. He watched through his side mirror and saw Dev McGuire was right behind him, but keeping a safe distance between the two vehicles. Smiling a little, Sloan rubbed his recently shaven jaw, thinking that she was one fine-looking filly of a woman. He liked her raven-black hair that shone with blue highlights even beneath a gray rainy sky. Her oval face had a strong chin and he could sense stubborn resolve in her after the tire had blown. Knowing she’d have successfully handled the changing of a tire, Sloan liked that Dev had allowed him to step in and aid her. She might be stubborn, but judging from the look in those deep forest green eyes of hers, she was intelligent and had the good common sense to accept help from others.

Dev was built slender, reminding him more of a willow, although he couldn’t tell much beneath that navy goose-down winter coat she wore. The woman definitely had a fine pair of long, long legs on her and that heightened Sloan’s interest in her. He’d always liked tall, willowy-looking women. But he darkly reminded himself that more than likely, she had a man in her life, even though she wore no wedding ring on her left hand. Most of the female rangers at the Teton station were either going with someone or married. Him and about ten other younger rangers were single. They were all looking for the right woman. He was not. His ex-wife, Cary Davis, had cured him of ever wanting marriage again.

As Sloan drove at a reasonable speed, he noted again that Dev was easily keeping up with him. Once they entered Jackson Hole, the four-lane highway bustling with locals and tourists, Sloan remained in the slower right-hand lane for Dev’s sake. Trailering a horse required 100 percent of the driver’s attention. Plus, they never drove near anyone else’s bumper because they had a lot of weight and a thousand-pound horse pushing them forward even after brakes were applied. Trucks and trailers didn’t stop that fast as a result.

Sloan kept trying to ignore the fact he caught the fragrance of her hair or skin, a subtle jasmine scent. It made him inhale deeply, as if he were inhaling a woman’s scent for the first time. Well, that was partly true. After divorcing Cary at twenty-seven, it had taken Sloan nearly three years to recover from the damage it had done to him. And just recently, he was beginning to feel the ache of wanting a partner, or at least a woman to be in a serious relationship with, in his life once again. But no marriage. Just a relationship. Sloan wasn’t the kind of man to have one-night stands. He never had been that type, and wasn’t about to start now. He’d always had long-term relationships and never went into them with the thought that they were going to be shallow or time limited.

There was a haunting softness to Dev McGuire that called powerfully to him. Maybe an innocence to her? She looked college aged, but Sloan was sure she was probably in her late twenties even though she didn’t look it. The maturity she had told him she was older. She wasn’t some giggly young twentysomething. No, Dev had dealt with him in an adult way, although Sloan swore he had seen her interest in him as a man. Maybe that was his imagination? Sloan knew he was no pretty boy or magazine cover model. He was country born, backwoods raised on Black Mountain, and lowlanders referred to his kind as hillbillies. There was pride in being raised in West Virginia, in the Allegheny Mountains among the Hill people whose blood ran through his veins. Black Mountain was a harbor for his kind. These were good people who lived off the land, worked hard, took care of themselves as well as their neighbors. And despite the stereotype where outsiders thought Hill people were dumb and illiterate, nothing could be further from the truth. Minds were changed, however, one person at a time.

So why the sense of innocence around Dev? Sloan pondered that question as he drove slowly through the town. Maybe she got married early, in her late teens. Again, he assumed she was in a relationship. Damn, she was pretty. He liked her beautifully shaped lips, their natural fullness. Her wing-shaped black brows emphasized those glorious, large green eyes of hers. They were alive with life, dancing and fully engaged with him when they spoke to one another. Sloan had tried to ignore as best he could the heat that had streaked straight down to his lower body when Dev had smiled at him.

Sloan thought back to his growing-up years in an old log cabin that sat on top of a tree-clad hill deep in the woods of Black Mountain. They had electricity and every night his mother, Wilma, would read to him as a young child. She loved myths and in particular he remembered Helen of Troy and how beautiful she was. Sloan thought that Dev could be a black-haired version of her. What bothered him, however, was her reaction when he accidentally scared the bejesus out of her. She’d reacted violently when he’d approached her. Looking back on it, he did walk quietly and Dev hadn’t heard him coming her way. Sloan felt bad about jolting her. The woman was under enough stress hauling a horse halfway across the United States, then having a flat tire, which could all have contributed to her reaction.

It was the look in her green eyes that had struck him deeply, the raw terror he’d seen in them. Her face had gone completely white except for her red cheeks caused by the cold weather and wind. He’d seen that look in Afghan villagers’ eyes too often, particularly the women and children who had been terrorized by Taliban who’d come through killing and torturing fathers and husbands. And raping the women. It was a look he’d never forget from his deployments. And it was reflected in Dev’s eyes. Why? Shaking his head, Sloan couldn’t put it together. At least, not yet. And probably never.

As they reached the outskirts of the town, there was a long, long hill they had to climb. On his right was the ten-foot-high elk fence. Below it was the valley where thousands of deer and elk were fed all winter long so they wouldn’t die of starvation. On his left rose a thousand-foot hill, rocks craggy and gleaming with wetness from small springs that wound unseen and then oozed out of the fissures and cracks on the surface.

Sloan could always tell a lot about a person by the animals they kept. That buckskin mare of hers wasn’t jumpy, nervous or tense. She was real relaxed in that trailer, alert but not jerking and jumping around like some horses did. That was a reflection of Dev’s real nature, for sure. Animals always mirrored their owners, plain and simple. So his initial sense of the woman was that she was grounded, quiet and mature. Just like her horse. That was a good combination in Sloan’s book. Giggly, flighty, nervous women made him tense. But then, Cary had been like that, hadn’t she? But that was because she’d been high on drugs and he hadn’t realized it until much too late.

Sloan had only caught a glimpse of the yellow Labrador in the front of Dev’s truck. By the fineness of the dog’s large, broad head, she looked to be a female. He’d find out soon enough, he though, and then he grinned over at Mouse, who was decidedly an alpha male. “I think you already know that good-lookin’ yellow Lab is a female.”

Mouse cocked his black head, his large, intelligent eyes dancing with excitement. He whined. His tail kept thumping against the seat.

Reaching out, Sloan petted his combat-assault dog that had, for two years, helped save his ass over in Afghanistan. When he got out of the Army, he was able to bring Mouse with him because the dog had developed stress from too many IEDs and explosions. He’d been a brave dog, often going after fleeing enemies in nights so dark Sloan couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. Mouse would nail them, take them down and grip a leg with his teeth until the Army soldiers could arrive to take the screaming enemy prisoner.

Now his brindle dog was eight years old, well past his prime, but he was in better shape than 90 percent of the dogs in the United States. And Mouse had slowly, over time, let go of his combat-dog training as Sloan gently but firmly got his best four-legged friend to adjust to civilian life instead. As he moved his long fingers through the dog’s short, thick fur, Sloan smiled a little.

“Hey, this may be your lucky day, fella. That woman has a yellow Lab and who knows? You might get to befriend that dog of hers.” He chuckled. “And I might be able to befriend her owner.”

Mouse thumped his tail mightily, ears up, eyes on the back window where Dev’s truck and trailer were visible. He gave a long, excited whine.

Sloan knew Mouse could see the other dog through the windows, no question. The Belgian Malinois was one of the most intelligent dog breeds on the planet and nothing, but nothing, escaped Mouse’s attention.

It made Sloan grin. Giving Mouse a last pat, Sloan wrapped his hand around the steering wheel, urging the truck up the long, easy slope of the hill. As they crested it, the mighty Tetons sat on his left. They were clothed in deep white snow with blue granite flanks and skirts of evergreens around their bases. May was still a winter month up here, but Sloan knew come June 1, the tourists would descend like a plague of locusts on this park and Yellowstone, which sat fifty miles north of them.

Mouse whined. His thin, long tail was whipping against Sloan’s thigh.

“Patience, pardner,” he drawled to his dog. “We’re almost there. As soon as we can get this gal and her horse over to the barn, I might let you out and we’ll introduce you to her dog. But no promises. Okay? Gotta see what the lady wants to do with her horse first.”

The dog’s tail hit Sloan with great regularity across his hard thigh. They were bruising hits.

“Calm down,” he told Mouse. “Easy.” And Sloan slowly stroked the dog’s long, powerful back. He felt the dog’s muscles relax beneath his stroking fingers. Mouse stopped whining. If Mouse thought he could crash through that rear-window glass, run across the bed of his truck and leap up onto the hood of Dev’s truck, he’d do it. Such was his dog’s type-A nature. Belgian Malinois were basically sheep-herding dogs in Europe. And their nature was to bring everyone together in a nice, tight, safe group, with the dog prowling around the edges, watching for bears, wolves or apex predators from the sky.

Sloan couldn’t lie to himself. He was mirroring his dog. Only Mouse was a helluva lot more obvious about it than he was. No question, Dev turned him on. Caution told him not to put much stock in first impressions. He’d fallen so hard and fast for Cary, married her three months after meeting her in a bar, and look what had happened. Sloan frowned; he knew the price. And it was far too much for him to ever pay again.

CHAPTER TWO

DEV FELT NOTHING but gratefulness for Sloan as he pulled into the large gravel circle in front of a dark green three-story barn. She’d seen the headquarters building, a two-story yellow-brick affair on the right, after they’d passed through the area that allowed visitors into the park. Her heart picked up in tempo and she felt anticipation and relief while she parked the truck and trailer in front of the open barn doors.

Bella, her yellow Lab, whined, her head stuck out the window, her long, slender yellow tail beating happily against the seat.

Patting her rump, Dev said, “Stay here, girl. First things first. We have to get Goldy out of that trailer and into an assigned box stall in that barn.”

As she opened the door to climb out, she watched Sloan ease his tall frame out of the truck in front of her. There was a casualness about him, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, but Dev saw something else. He seemed to look around, not in an easygoing manner, but in a way that suggested he was thoroughly checking out the territory around him. Further, her own senses told her this man wasn’t who or what he seemed to be. That was unsettling to her because Bart Gordon hadn’t been, either. He was a stalker, a sexual predator beneath those good looks of his. Only she’d found out too late.

Dev compressed her lips and shut the truck door. She waited for Sloan to walk up to where she stood. A rocky hiking and horse trail existed beyond the barn area. The Douglas firs stood tall and straight everywhere she looked on that side of the path. Inhaling deeply, she drew the scent of pine into her lungs. The air was cold, the breeze brisk and there were patches of white snow everywhere, telling her spring had yet to make an entrance into this area of Wyoming.

“Welcome home,” Sloan said, gesturing to the barn. “Let me connect with Charlotte Hastings. She’s our supervisor. Chances are her assistant, Linda Chambers, will know which box stall has been reserved for your mare.” He pulled the cell phone out of his pocket.

Nodding, Dev looked around as he made the call for her. She could feel Sloan’s quiet power radiating around him. Bella had poked her head out the driver’s-side window, panting and watching Sloan. He seemed to draw women like bees found flowers. Somewhat skittish, Dev walked away from Sloan, wanting to get out of that warm, sunlit aura that surrounded him. It was too tempting and she was too raw from Gordon’s attack on her. There was no way she could afford to trust this ranger, even if he seemed helpful. He might have ulterior motives toward her, too.

Dev hated that she thought that way since Gordon’s attack. Now she was looking at every man who approached her as a potential predator. Dev knew not every man was out to get her like Gordon did, but she couldn’t stop the emotional internal reactions that automatically popped up whenever she was around a strange unknown male. And worse, the rangers she worked with at the other park, she began to question and distrust them, as well. Rubbing her furrowed brow, she walked around the back of the trailer.

Goldy nickered.

“Hey, big girl, we’re going to get you into your new home in just a bit,” she promised, patting her mare gently on her big golden rump. Dev liked the black dorsal stripe that ran from the mare’s withers, or shoulders, all the way across her back and connected with her long black tail. Buckskins, depending upon their genetic history, often had the dorsal stripe. Goldy also had the black horizontal bars across her upper legs, another indicator of mustang genes far back in her family tree. She was a true mustang buckskin in color and personality.

“Hey, we’ve got you a box stall,” Sloan called, coming around the corner, tucking his cell into his back pocket. “Stall number five.” He gestured toward the opened barn doors. “It’s down at the other end of the aisle on the right. Do you need any help unloading your mare?”

“No, I’m fine. She’s an easy hauler,” Dev said.

“Okay, let me get down there and I’ll slide the door open to that stall and make sure she’s got water. Want her to have a bit of alfalfa or some timothy grass hay?”

“I’ve got some grass hay up in the compartment,” she said, waving in that general direction. “With the stress of trailering, I only want Goldy on regular grass hay for now.” She saw the pleased look come to Sloan’s weathered face.

“You know your horses,” he praised, turning and walking up the slight gravel slope to the barn.

Dev tried not to feel good about the compliment in Sloan’s blue eyes and low voice. She felt that sense of warmth surround her like a wonderful, protective blanket. It startled her and she tried to figure out what was going on between them. After she opened the latches, the door to Goldy’s side of the trailer swung wide. Going to the front compartment, Dev quickly snapped a nylon lead on her halter and freed her from the trailer tie. She patted her mare, who was more than ready to get out of the trailer.

Dev hurried to the rear and removed the rubber hose and chain safeguard that kept the horse from backing out of the trailer too soon. Patting Goldy’s rear, she moved quickly up to the compartment. She squeezed in beside her mare, clucked her tongue and said, “Back.”

Horses didn’t understand English per se, Dev knew, but they associated sounds with a particular command and knew what was being asked of them. Goldy daintily backed out and Dev followed with the nylon lead in her hand. Once the mare was out of the trailer, Goldy perked up, lifting her chiseled head, eagerly looking around, her nostrils flared to pick up all the new scents.

As Dev walked to her side, smoothing out her long ruffled black mane, Sloan reappeared at the entrance to the barn. “Is it ready?” she called.

“Sure is. Come on in.”

Smiling a little, Dev led her mare toward the barn. Already, she could hear the welcoming nickers of other horses who heard the buckskin coming their way. Horses were social animals and always preferred being in a herd. Dev was sure that Goldy would make some good friends soon.

“She’s a nice-looking animal,” Sloan said, walking with her down the clean, swept concrete aisle between the ten box stalls. “Mustang?”

“Part,” Dev said, watching Goldy as she swung her head one way or another as she clip-clopped down the aisle way. “Part mustang and part Arabian.”

“Nice combo,” Sloan said. “You’re slender and delicate, and so is she. A good match.”

Dev wasn’t sure she was small at five feet seven inches tall, but she supposed in comparison to Sloan, she was. “I wanted a trail horse that had her instincts,” she explained.

“That’s wise,” Sloan agreed. He stepped out of the way because she was going to have to swing Goldy wide to step into her awaiting oak box stall.

The whinnies of the other animals grew in volume, a pleasant horse chorus welcoming Goldy to her new home. Her mare whickered back in a friendly fashion, as if thanking them for their welcome. All the curious horses had their faces pressed against the wide iron bars across the upper half of each of the stall gates, watching their progress. The sweet smell of alfalfa and timothy hay made Dev inhale deeply. It was like perfume to her. She spotted the open door at the end, on the right stall. The other enclosures were all filled, probably with either USFS-owned horses or horses privately owned by some of the rangers.

It was warmer in the barn due to the body heat of the ten animals. The breeze was cold, flowing in and out of the barn. Dev was pleased to see thick cedar shavings in Goldy’s new stall. To her left was a steel watering bowl that had a heater in it to keep the water from icing up when below freezing. Hanging in a net in the corner near the bars at the front was a flake of timothy hay. Goldy eagerly stepped up into the roomy stall, plunging her nose into the large watering bowl.

Looking around, Dev wanted to see if there were any nails or other items that could accidentally injure her mare. The stall was bright, large and airy with a second window opposite the sliding door. Horses hated being in dark stalls. They got depressed just like a human without adequate light. Slipping the snap off Goldy’s halter, she pulled the door halfway shut and slowly examined every oak panel in the stall. She could feel Sloan’s silent interest, her back prickling lightly where his gaze rested upon her. Before Gordon’s attack, Dev wouldn’t have reacted to any male interest with anxiety, but now, she did. Moving her hand along the wall, fingertips skimming the sanded, honey-colored hardwood, Dev told herself that Sloan was not Gordon. Or was he? Looks were so damned deceiving. Feeling guilty because Sloan did not deserve this kind of paranoid reaction from her, Dev turned and walked to the other side of her mare, who was lifting her muzzle from the bowl, water dripping from it.

“This is nice,” Dev said, pointing to the water dish. “Not only self-filling, but with the temperature gauge in there, it will keep ice from forming over the top of it.”

Sloan leaned against the stall and nodded. “I think you’ll find everything in the stall in shipshape. Charlotte is a nice lady, but she’s strict about keeping the animals clean and safe, too. She’s a good supervisor and I think you’ll like meeting her.”

Pushing her hair away from her face, Dev patted Goldy on her broad wither one more time and then slid the door open and stepped out. The horse next to her, a big gray gelding with a black mane and tail, had his nose pressed between the iron bars, wanting to say hello to Goldy. But Goldy was more interested in that clean-smelling timothy hay in the hanging net after sating her thirst.

“I have an appointment to officially meet her tomorrow morning at 10:00 a.m.,” Dev said. Glancing at her watch, she said, “Next order of business is to find my new apartment. I leased it over the phone after going on the internet and looking at what was available in this area.”

Sloan took the heavy oak door and slid it closed, and then latched it so the mare couldn’t possibly get out. “I’ll bet you had sticker shock on the prices of an apartment and condo here in Jackson Hole.”

Groaning, Dev said, “Yes. Even worse, I have a dog and most places don’t allow you to have a pet, so it got pretty worrisome.” She rubbed her hands down the thighs of her Levi’s and hung Goldy’s red nylon lead on a horseshoe that was attached to the door.

“There are two places that allow pets,” Sloan said. “The Pines, where I live, and a condo group known as Winterhaven. Which did you rent at?”

Dev walked slowly down the aisle toward her truck at the other end. “I took a two-bedroom apartment at The Pines. It was a lot cheaper. I mean, it wasn’t really cheap at all, just less than Winterhaven.”

“That’s a good choice. It’s a nice place. I live there with my dog, Mouse.”

She smiled a little, feeling a sense of protection coming from Sloan as he walked at her shoulder. He’d pulled his gloves off and stuffed them in his back pocket. The male grace of the man told her he was in top shape, although pretty much hidden from the waist up with his utilitarian Carhartt heavy canvas jacket. She could always tell a real rancher or farmer from the wannabes. That particular line of clothing was built tough for hardworking men and women. Instead of buttons, they were fastened with rivets. Dev had a dark brown Carhartt jacket packed away in her suitcase and would always be wearing it anytime she was working in the barn or around Goldy when it was cold. “What were the chances we’d meet each other on that highway? And that you’d be a ranger like myself? And then we end up living at the same apartment complex?”

Sloan shrugged and slanted her an amused look. “Dharma? Or Karma, depending upon how you take it all in.”

“Kismet,” Dev said. His low, husky teasing flowed through her and touched her heart. She chided herself inwardly for thinking Sloan was a wolf in sheep’s clothing just like Gordon. The warmth dancing in Sloan’s blue eyes made her feel safe. And since the assault, Dev had not felt safe at all. Anywhere. With any man. Except Sloan. Frowning a little, she tucked her feelings away, concentrating on leaving the barn. Above, some sunlight managed to peek through the gray fluffy clouds gathering with what looked like rain or snow.

Sloan lifted his Stetson, ran his fingers through his short hair and settled it on his head. “I’m going that way. Got to get out to the Triple H to shoe some of their horses. Want to follow me?”

“Yes, you’re really being a guardian angel for me, Sloan.”

“Okay, but first, back your trailer over there.” He pointed to five other trailers that sat in a neat row east of the barn.

Dev was used to hauling and backing up her horse trailer. It wasn’t hard to do, but one had to know how to turn the wheels on the truck to back the trailer straight and next to the red-and-white one at the end. “Got it.”

“I’ll help you.”

“I appreciate it,” she murmured, climbing into the cab of her truck. Horsemen usually helped one another and Sloan wasn’t disappointing her at all. She turned on the truck’s engine and then drove around the circle, jockeying her truck and trailer. Within minutes, thanks to Sloan’s hand signals, she had her trailer parked. By the time she got out of the truck, he had lifted the trailer hitch off the truck and had it standing and ready for the next time she would want to hook it up.

“You’re going to spoil me,” Dev said, smiling up at him. “Thanks.” She saw that gleam come to his eyes again, and she swore she could feel his care and protection once more.

“Horse people always help one another,” Sloan said, shrugging a bit. “What building and apartment are you in, do you know? There are three units to The Pines.”

Frowning, Dev pulled out a note from her jacket pocket and opened it up. “It says ‘unit two, apartment 224.’” She saw his brows rise, and a surprised look come to his face. “Why? Is this not a good apartment?”

A grin edged Sloan’s mouth. “You aren’t going to believe this, but I’m in the same unit and my apartment is directly across from yours, 225.”

Her lips parted and Dev wasn’t sure she felt good or bad about that news. “Well...uh...this is really something, isn’t it?”

“I guess so,” Sloan said, shaking his head with amusement. “Look at it this way. If you need to borrow a cup of sugar, I more than likely will have it on hand. It’ll save you a trip to the grocery store.”

“At least I’ll know one person in Jackson Hole,” Dev said, stunned by the development. When Sloan smiled that slow, lazy smile of his, heat flooded her lower body. The reaction surprised the hell out of her. The man was not flirting with her. He was simply being a gentleman, trying to help her out, her heart told her. He was a ranger, and so was she. Sloan was just doing his duty was all. But the heat in his gaze for a split second unnerved her. Dev wasn’t even sure she’d seen it. Maybe she wished she had? God, she didn’t know—her emotions were still a tangled mess within her since Gordon’s attack.

“Come on,” Sloan urged. “I’ll get you over to the manager’s office at The Pines and then I’m going to skedaddle down the road to go shoe those Triple H horses.”

Without thinking, Dev reached out and briefly touched the sleeve of his jacket. “Thanks...really. I truly appreciate the time and care you’re giving us, Sloan.” Her fingertips tingled slightly and she saw his expression darken for just a moment, as if he hadn’t been expecting her to reach out and make physical contact with him. Maybe she had overstepped her bounds with him? “I’m sure your wife can also loan me anything I need,” she added.

Sloan said, “Not married. I’m divorced. Me and Mouse are the only ones in that apartment and I don’t think my dog, as smart as he is, is up to pouring you a cup of sugar.” He cracked a grin.

“Point taken.” She saw Mouse with his head hanging out the passenger window of Sloan’s truck. “Pretty dog. What breed is he?”

“Belgian Malinois,” Sloan said, slowing his pace for her sake. “He used to be my combat-assault dog when I was in the Army.” Hitching his shoulder, he added, “But that’s another story for another day. We got places to go and people to see right now.”

The first raindrops plopped around Dev. She glanced up, seeing the clouds had lowered and become dark and threatening. “Good timing. Looks like it’s going to pour any minute.”

“Oh, it’ll turn to snow up here real quick.” Sloan gestured south as he opened the door to her truck for her. “Jackson Hole will more than likely get rain because it’s a thousand feet lower in elevation than where we are here. Follow me?”

Dev climbed in. Bella whined and tried reaching across her to smell Sloan, but he left too quickly for her to get a friendly and curious sniff. As she petted Bella, the yellow Lab placed herself on the passenger side, her brown eyes alight with excitement. “Soon, we will have a new home,” Dev promised her dog.

Bella thumped her tail, watching Sloan climb into his truck. Her eyes, though, were on Mouse, who was craning his neck out the partially opened passenger-side window, staring intently at her.

“You already have an admirer,” Dev teased Bella, putting her truck in gear and slowly following Sloan out of the barnyard. And she almost added that she had an admirer in the form and shape of hunky Sloan Rankin. Did she really want that kind of attention? No. Not right now. Dev was still sorting out the assault, trying not to take every male she saw as a potential attacker. It was a terrible thing for Dev to see her once overly trusting self shattered and destroyed by one man. Gordon had changed her life in those moments. Forever.

* * *

SLOAN TOLD HIMSELF to slow down with Dev. What the hell were the chances they’d meet on a highway and then find out their other connections with one another? It was almost scary. Certainly surprising. As he drove through Jackson Hole at a crawl, tourists everywhere, he told his body to settle down. There was nothing to dislike about Dev. His mind churned over things she’d said. Damned if she hadn’t looked relieved when he told her he was divorced. Why? Was he misreading that look? Was Dev personally interested in him, man to woman? Or was it wishful thinking on his part, because he was lonely and craving a serious, healthy relationship with a woman once again?

Mouse sat on the seat, his nose stuck out the open window, sucking up all the scents he could find. Sometimes, Sloan wished life was dog simple. They ate, slept, exercised and slept some more. Human lives weren’t so straightforward. Because he’d worked with his dog for two years in Afghanistan, Sloan had developed a powerful intuition. He could sense people even if their faces were completely unreadable. Sometimes, he could feel Dev wanting to warm up to him. And then, she’d retreat for some unknown reason. He’d sensed her wariness about him, too. Not that he’d given her any reason to distrust him.

Something was going on and damned if he could figure it out. Yet. And because he was drawn to her, rightly or wrongly, Sloan wanted to know why Dev’s reactions and signals toward him were mixed and confusing. He’d already figured out she was either single, divorced or widowed because the apartment was for her and Bella, her dog. There was no man with her. Sloan knew he shouldn’t be happy about that realization, but he was.

Mouth thinning, he took a left turn and drove down a street that would lead them out of Jackson Hole. It would be a mile down the road and another left to where the newer condos and apartment buildings were located. The rain was splattering more heavily now and the gray pall hung over the hills clothed in evergreens in the distance. The beauty of the area always lulled him and made him feel relaxed. He drove by a huge power pole on his right. Up on top of it was a huge osprey hawk nest and there were two adults in it. Soon, they would have eggs to sit on, and would raise another generation of fishing hawks that would ply the nearby Snake River for food.

His body was heating up and Sloan groaned inwardly. Dev was pretty, no question. He was eager to see her without that big down-filled coat, see her hips and her upper body hidden beneath it. He was such a fool. Suddenly, his body, which had been pretty much dormant since the divorce, was coming back online with a vengeance. All he had to do was look at Dev’s soft mouth, that winsome smile that had tugged at the corners, and a sheet of burning heat flowed powerfully through him. She wore no makeup. Her black hair was straight with slightly curled blue-black tips. He liked her oval face, those high cheekbones giving her large eyes a slightly exotic look. Sloan had a lot of questions for Dev and found himself starving to sit down over coffee and ask her them. But that would be rude. His parents had taught him better than that. He needed to give her space to acclimate to a new apartment, new area and new job first.

Glancing to the left, Sloan saw Mouse sniffing up the rainy air, his sleek muzzle now shiny and wet. Maybe the best way to get to know Dev was slowly, to try to figure her out a step at a time. With that unexplained wariness of hers in place like a shield between them, Sloan knew patience was going to get him what he wanted. If she wanted anything to do with him, that is...

That was the great unknown.

Hell, did he really want to get involved with a woman? Again? Sloan’s brows lowered as he turned and headed down Moose Lake Road, condos sprouting up as tall towers on his left and a blocky three-story apartment building coming up on the right. The rain was worsening. No surprise there. It was going to be an all-day rain, too. It would turn yellowed meadows into lush green grass for the wild animals. All of them looked close to skeletons, their thick winter coats peeling off them now. The animals were looking forward to that nutritious grass peeking above the snow.

Sloan never lied to himself anymore. He’d lied to himself once, when married to Cary. He pretended her quixotic moods that always kept him off balance were just a natural part of her effervescent personality. Going home to her at night was like entering an emotional battlefield that never ceased. Sloan yearned for a woman like Dev to come into his life: someone who was thoughtful, stable, had a good sense of humor and shared some of what he loved, such as trail riding, having a dog at his side and enjoying the healing silence of nature.

Dev fit the bill so far. Did she have a significant other that she’d left behind? Maybe a long-distance relationship still between them? Maybe the guy was trying to get a transfer out here to be with her? Sloan’s head filled with all kinds of scenarios that would stop him in his tracks from getting to know Dev better. Rubbing his jaw, he slowed his truck as the turn came up for the unit-two apartment building in the crescent-shaped complex. Sloan didn’t feel any guilt about hoping Dev was completely free of any relationship obligations. But one look into her face and Sloan was sure that wasn’t going to be the case. She was young, pretty, fresh and confident. Any man worth his salt would be attracted to her.

Slowing, he pulled his truck next to an open parking spot so Dev could turn in beside him. The rain was constant now, the day turning a depressing gray. Depressing for some, but not him. Easing out, he kept Mouse in the cab and shut the door. He walked around her truck and opened the door for Dev. He then pulled up the dark brown corduroy collar on his coat to stop the rain from running down his neck. She had already pulled up her collar, grabbed her leather purse and pulled the strap over her shoulder. She told Bella to stay and the dog promptly sat down on the seat.

“This way,” Sloan urged, pointing her toward double glass doors to the left of them.

Dev nodded, slid out and hurried to get under the eave of the cedar shake roof. Waiting, she watched Sloan shut the door and trot in beneath the eave, as well. He moved around her and walked to the glass doors, opening one of them for her. She slipped in, thanked him and wiped her boots on a coarse mat before walking into an office where a woman sat behind a desk. She had red hair, with green eyes and a welcoming smile, and looked to be in her midforties.

“Hey, Sloan,” she called, grinning. “Wet enough out there for you?”

Sloan returned the grin, took off his Stetson and cupped Dev’s elbow, guiding her up to the desk. “Sure is, Carol. Hey, this is a new tenant, Dev McGuire.”

“Oh, yes,” Carol said, shaking Dev’s hand, “we’ve been expecting you, Miss McGuire. Welcome.”

Dev smiled. “Thanks. And call me Dev. If it weren’t for Sloan here, I’d probably have had trouble finding you folks.”

Settling his hat on his head, Sloan looked at the women. Pinkness had flooded Dev’s cheeks after he’d cupped her elbow. Why had he done it? Out of a desire to touch her? His body was growing tight against his zipper. Damn. “Gotta go, ladies. You’re in good hands with Carol,” he told Dev.

“Great...thanks, Sloan...”

“I’ll drop by tonight after I get home to see if you need anything.” Again, there was that wariness in her eyes. She tucked her lower lip between her teeth for just a moment. “Well,” he said, giving her a warm smile, “let’s do it the other way around. You know I’m across the hall from you. Just knock if you need anything.” Instantly, Sloan saw her worry disappear. He filed that reaction away and would chew on it later.

“That would be fine,” Dev murmured. “Have a good afternoon.”

Sloan headed for the door. “Hey, I’ll be inside a dry barn doing my shoeing. I’m a happy camper. See you two later,” he said, and he waved goodbye and slipped outside.

CHAPTER THREE

BART GORDON SAT at one end of the U-shaped counter in Mo’s Ice Cream Parlor in the main square of Jackson Hole. He was nursing his cup of coffee and noticed how the place was bustling with customers. At 9:00 a.m., tourists were filtering in for breakfast. He’d already eaten his eggs, bacon and hash browns, and was now content to watch the flow of traffic. One corner of his mouth ticked upward. Wouldn’t it be hilarious if Dev McGuire waltzed into this place? He wouldn’t want to be seen by her because it was far too early for that. Still, he relished the thought, his mind taking flight, imagining the shocked look on her face when she spotted him. A sense of satisfaction raced through him. All he had to do was see her face in his mind or say her name, and his body ignited with desire for her.

He was angry at her for getting him fired from his forest ranger job. Claiming assault with the attempt to rape her. The bitch. So he had been a little rough with her. The women he knew liked it that way. It made him feel manly. In charge. A woman should always be controlled, and he enjoyed it. Moving the cream-colored ceramic mug between his large hands, he tasted rage over her reaction to his wanting her. He’d been a forest ranger for seven years after coming out of the Army transportation command. At thirty, he was hanging his hat on doing his twenty years with the USFS and collecting a nice pension that would be the bedrock for his old age. But Dev had destroyed all his plans. Utterly. Revenge warred with desire for the woman.

Dev wasn’t just any woman. He liked black-haired women who had spirit and were confident. And he liked his women to be fighters, giving as good as they got. That turned Bart on. His mouth quirked and he scowled. How the hell could he have known Dev was going to take his advances like that? Every other woman wanted his strength, his mastery, and wanted to be tamed by him. They liked being subjugated. And they all liked rough sex. So did he.

This morning, he had an interview with Blake Rivas, owner of Ace Trucking. In the military, he’d been in transportation and had driven the big trucks. A semi truck was no different. He could call upon those four years’ worth of skills and convince Rivas that he would be a damn good driver for his huge company. Bart was desperate to get a job. He’d purposely come to this town because Dev was here. A hard anger congealed in his gut. He was going to make her pay for what she’d done to him. Only this time, she wasn’t going to live to go to the police and hang his ass a second time around.

Sipping his coffee, watching the sunlight dance through the large picture windows that showed the busy square, he smiled to himself. First, he’d get a job. Then he’d rent an apartment. Lastly, but most important, he’d begin to shadow Dev and watch in order to learn her habits. Then he could plan to kidnap her. It would take time, but he was patient. Above all, Bart didn’t want to be connected to her murder when someone discovered Dev’s naked body tossed into the woods. In fact, he was planning on learning the grizzly territory around here, planning on letting one of them use her dead body as food. His smile widened as he thought about how his revenge would be set in motion and getting even with Dev. He could hardly wait to see the look in her eyes when he caught her, took her somewhere private, had his way with her, kept her chained up so she couldn’t escape. He would degrade her. Then, and only then, when he tired of her, would he get rid of her once and for all.

* * *

DEV TOOK A deep breath and rose from the seat in the outer office of the USFS superintendent’s office. The assistant smiled and gestured for her to go through the closed door for her first interview with Charlotte Hastings, her new boss. At her side was Bella, in her work uniform and harness as a working dog. She wore a lightweight nylon jacket that said Tracking Dog on it. Dev had placed the black nylon martingale harness across Bella’s broad chest and over her shoulders. Not liking a chain collar around her dog’s neck, Dev used a leather one that hung comfortably around Bella instead. She gripped the nylon leash and nodded her thanks to the assistant. Bella walked calmly at her side, alert.

She got her first look at her new boss. The fifty-year-old blond-haired woman in her Forest Service uniform sat at her large maple desk. The office was located on the second floor of the building, in a corner where large windows allowed in a lot of light. It was a beautiful place for an office, Dev thought as she closed the door and turned around to greet Charlotte.

“Come on in,” the woman called, smiling and standing. She moved from behind her desk and shook hands with Dev. “I’m Charlotte,” she said. “And this must be your tracking dog, Bella?” She reached down and patted the dog’s head.

“Yes, ma’am, it is,” Dev said.

Charlotte straightened and gestured to a chair at one corner of her desk. “Have a seat, Ranger McGuire.”

Dev took her seat and Bella sat down next to her. The HQ was parallel to the main highway that led into the park. A lot of cars moved slowly past the building because they’d just come out of paying the fee to enter the park. Across the way, Dev could see the newly built three-story visitor’s center opposite of the HQ. She pushed her left palm down her green trousers, getting rid of the dampness. Hastings sat down at her leather chair. Supervisors, she’d found over the years, came in many different stripes. It was rare that a woman was at the top post at a park. She didn’t know what the woman’s agenda would be, but she’d find out shortly. Her supervisor seemed efficient because there were a number of stacks of files on her desk. They weren’t messy, but rather organized.

“Ranger McGuire,” she said, folding her hands over Dev’s opened file, “you come to us highly recommended. We’ve been needing a tracker and tracking dog here for this park for some time now, so I’m personally glad to see you here.”

Dev felt some relief. At least she wasn’t going to get stuck in some office, away from the outdoors. Which could have happened. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, “I’m happy to be here, too.”

“Every year between May and October, we get at least fifty calls for lost children, elders or adults here in the Tetons.” Charlotte scowled. “And it takes a lot of my personnel halting their jobs to go off looking for these individuals.” Looking at Dev’s file, she said, “You and Bella have an excellent record of finding lost souls in the Smoky Mountains region. I see no reason why you won’t do as well here.”

“I anticipate we’ll be able to do the same here,” Dev said.

“Well,” Charlotte said, raising her head, “we have grizzly bears out here and the Smoky Mountains only have small black bears. There’s a huge difference between them. A dog barking at a black bear will send it running away.” She pointed at Bella. “If she barks here, the grizzly will take it as a challenge and go after your dog.”

It was a grim warning. “Bella doesn’t bark.”

“Not even when faced with an elk? A deer? Or a black bear?”

“No, ma’am.” Dev saw some relief in the superintendent’s blue eyes.

“Well,” she muttered, “I hope that’s true because grizzly bears hate dogs. They see them as a certified threat. That means if one sees you and the dog, they could stalk you or just outright charge you, Ranger McGuire.”

“I need to get up on grizzly behavior before I go out to track,” Dev agreed.

“You will carry the following on you whenever you’re tracking, Ranger. A rifle, a pistol, a quart of bear spray and a radio. We keep constant monitoring of the bears in this park for good reason. But there’s always new ones wandering into the area we don’t know about. On a given search for a lost person, you’re going to work closely with our bear-tracking unit. That way, you’re on top of where the bruins might be located. But on any given day, a grizzly can travel twenty miles to find food.” She wrote down a name on a piece of paper and pushed it across the desk to Dev. “This is the ranger you want to talk to about grizzly behavior. I’d suggest the next time he’s on watch, you introduce yourself to him if you can?”

Dev picked up the paper. The name scrawled across it was Sloan Rankin. Her heart pounded, underscoring her feminine reaction to him. “I’ll make a point of finding his schedule and talking to him, ma’am.”

“Good. Because it could save you and your dog’s lives. We ban dogs from this park for the very reason that the grizzly hate ’em. They interpret a dog as a wolf. And wolves are their natural enemy.”

“Got it,” Dev said, tucking the paper into the breast pocket of her long-sleeved uniform shirt.

“For the next two weeks, I’m putting you over at our newly built visitor’s center. You need to get acquainted with the tourists. We get them from around the world. Most are completely ignorant of the grizzly bears that populate the Tetons.”

Dev’s heart sank. She hated office duty. But Hastings was right: she had to see the type of people coming to the park, get to know them and understand the general lay of the land.

“Ranger Rankin is our farrier. He’s also been here for two years and knows every trail in the Tetons. I’m going to keep you on an abbreviated schedule at the visitor’s center. You’ll spend four hours over there on your shift, the other four hours working with Ranger Rankin. I’m paralleling his schedule with yours so that the other four hours you two can ride the trails. You need to get acquainted with them as soon as possible. I’ve already talked to him about being your mentor and helping you, earlier today. Before you were assigned here, he always headed up any searches via horseback, to look for lost tourists. Now I want him shadowing you on every tracking assignment for the next few months.”

Dev frowned. “Is this because of the grizzly threat?”

“Precisely. You will go nowhere without a partner on any of these assignments. Ranger Rankin will be carrying weapons also. He will be your guard should you encounter a grizzly. He’s your chief defense because I want you tracking and paying attention to your dog. You’ll be distracted if you have to divide your awareness between watching for a grizzly and trying to track a lost tourist.”

“That sounds like good common sense,” Dev agreed. She was glad it was Sloan. She liked him more than she should. He was someone who was calm and didn’t appear easily shaken up in a dangerous situation. Even though she wondered how Sloan had taken this assignment, Dev was sure she’d find out sooner or later. Did he feel like a glorified babysitter for her? Probably.

Charlotte pushed a paper toward Dev that had her next two weeks of shifts on it. “Now, since Ranger Rankin is our shoer, he’s usually pretty busy. We’ve gone over a trail planning session already and he knows where he has to take you. There are some areas where we have lost more tourists than others. So, he’ll be with you in those primary locations first. His office, if you can call it that, is over at the main barn. You might try to catch him there now, and make introductions.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Questions?”

Dev knew better than to overstay her visit to the boss’s office. “No, ma’am.”

Charlotte nodded, closing the file. “Welcome to the Tetons, Ranger McGuire. Stay safe out there.”

Rising, Dev saw Bella stand at her side. “Thank you, ma’am. I intend to do just that.”

Leaving the office, Dev felt better. The tension in her shoulders had bled off and even Bella looked a little more relaxed. Her dog instantly knew when she was upset. Stopping at another office on the first floor, Dev got a USFS truck assigned to her. It would be her wheels around the park from now on. Plus, it had a ball hitch on it so she could trailer her horse to where people went missing in the park.

After finding the truck parked outside the motor pool’s area of HQ, Dev signed off on it and put Bella on the passenger-side seat. As she climbed in, Dev noticed how the morning was warming up. She took off her dark brown nylon jacket and placed it between her and Bella. The sky was clear and it was looking like a nice day after last night’s rain. The air smelled intensely of pine and Dev smiled as she pulled the door shut. She rolled down the window because she wanted that cool, fresh air to circulate that heavenly fragrance within the cab of the truck. Even Bella was appreciatively sniffing the air.

She pulled out into traffic between tourists’ cars. The barn and corral area wasn’t far and Dev wondered if Sloan was around or not. She probably should have called his office but took a risk. Even if he wasn’t there, she wanted to check on Goldy and see if her mare was happy with her new digs. Pulling into the parking area in front of the green barn, Dev saw the doors were open at both ends to allow air to circulate through the barn. No one was around. Where was Sloan’s office? Probably inside. She got Bella out on her leash and they walked into the barn.

There was a door open halfway down on the left. Dev peeked in and saw Sloan sitting at a beat-up desk, busy doing paperwork. He looked up.

“Hey, good morning,” Sloan said, standing.

Dev was touched by his courtly manners. In some ways, Sloan reminded her of a knight from a bygone era. “How do you get away with not wearing a ranger’s uniform,” she teased, meeting his smile. Instantly, her heart beat a little harder and she felt heat flowing down through her, wrapping around in her chest.

“Lucky, I guess,” Sloan murmured, looking down at his Levi’s and his blue chambray work shirt. He had the long sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. “I assume you saw Charlotte?”

“Yes. She told me to look you up.”

He gestured to the chipped and old-looking aluminum chair off to one side. “Have a seat.”

Bella came in, wagging her tail, nosing around the desk to lick Sloan’s proffered hand. He petted the dog with genuine warmth.

Dev sat down, noticing how much Bella liked him. She was a friendly dog by nature, but she had favorite people, too. Obviously, Sloan was on her short list. She tried not to stare at him, but the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, showing off his lower arms. Rankin was nothing but pure muscle, but that wasn’t surprising given his job as a farrier. Hefting around a heavy hammer, dealing with metal, shaping it with his large hands and inherent strength, this all showed in the lean, ropy muscles that moved beneath the sprinkle of dark hair across his skin. The Levi’s fit him well and she saw he wore the same scarred old pair of boots as when she’d met him yesterday. There was a green USFS baseball cap hung up on a nail behind him. She saw the holster and pistol that rangers were to wear hung on another nail.

“Your office is hardly larger than a telephone booth,” she said, looking around. A naked lightbulb hung above the desk, the only light to the place.

Sitting down, Sloan said, “I’m not in here any more than I have to be.” He gestured to the papers in front of him. “I don’t like office work, either, but today’s the day to handle it.”

“You’d rather be outdoors.”

He grinned. “No secret there.”

Dev pulled out the shift schedule and pushed it across the desk to him. “Charlotte wants me to shadow you or vice versa for the next two weeks.”

Picking it up, he looked at it. “Yes. She nabbed me earlier this morning here in the barn, telling me what she wanted done to acclimate you and Bella.”

“Do you want to play babysitter?” Dev wondered aloud, crossing her legs and leaning back on the chair. There was a glitter in his blue eyes, most likely amusement. His mouth twitched as he looked up to regard her.

“Now, don’t go down that path, Dev. Charlotte’s worried that because you’ve never been assigned to grizzly country before, that you need a little watching and training is all. Besides, we can’t lose our tracker and her dog to a bear, can we? We just got you.” He chuckled. “Charlotte’s been beating her drum for someone like you for the past two years I’ve been here. She’s over the moon you’ve arrived.”

Bella laid her head in Dev’s lap and she petted her dog. “And how are you with having to teach me the ropes?”

“Hey,” Sloan joked, gesturing around his tiny office, “it’s better than being stuck in here in my telephone booth, don’t you think?”

Dev saw the laughter in his eyes, the wry curve of his mouth that made her go hot with longing. The man’s mouth was to die for. And she wondered what it would be like to kiss Sloan. His face was deeply tanned, with fine, feathered lines at the corners of his eyes, all proof of how much time he spent outdoors. Again, she felt that invisible sense of protection surround her. Bella felt it, too. The dog lifted her head, looking over at Sloan, who was putting all his papers into a drawer. So, Dev wasn’t imagining it. Yes, she felt safe in Sloan’s company. Maybe more than she should? Her heart liked being around this lanky farrier whose hands mesmerized her. Dev was sure if she told Sloan he had the most beautiful hands she’d ever seen it wouldn’t go over too well with him. Men didn’t consider themselves beautiful. She kept the remark to herself.

“How’s Goldy?” she asked.

“I got here at 6:00 a.m. and checked in on her,” Sloan said. “She was fine. I’m the one that feeds the horses stabled here. Goldy had finished her flake of timothy from yesterday and was more than ready for another one this morning. Why don’t you go on down and visit her while I finish up duties here? It’ll take me about ten more minutes. Then we’ll hitch up a trailer and load Rocky and Goldy, and then trailer them up to the first area where we get a lot of lost tourists.”

“Sounds good,” she said, rising. Bella was out the door first, as if knowing Dev was going to see Goldy. The dog tugged at her leash. Smiling, Dev knew her mare and Bella were the best of friends. She wondered where Mouse was at. Did Sloan leave him back at his apartment for the day?

Goldy had her nose pressed between the iron bars and nickered softly as Dev approached. Bella whined and leaped up on her rear legs, paws on the front of the sliding door to the stall, happily licking at Goldy’s velvety black nose. Dev positioned Bella at one side of the stall and like the good girl she was, she sat down. Bella knew when Dev gave a certain hand signal it meant stay and sit. Now, Dev could bring Goldy out and put her in the crossties to give her a brushing, clean her hooves, and the dog wouldn’t move from where she’d placed her.

Her heart lifted with silent joy as she led her buckskin mare to the crossties and hooked the panic snaps on either side of her red nylon halter. Goldy’s black mane had bits of cedar shavings in it, indicating she had lain down and rested at some point during the night. That was good, because two days of riding in a trailer was tiring for any horse. Grabbing her grooming kit from the tack room, Dev met Sloan on the way out.

“While you’re cleaning up Goldy,” he said, “I’m going to get the trailer hitched up.”

“Sounds good. Do we saddle them before putting them in the trailer?”

“Yes. But we’ll put the bridles on them once we arrive at the trailhead.”

Her heart wouldn’t settle down because Sloan had just given her an intent look. The sensation she’d felt was as if he was mentally photographing her. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but rather made her feel desired. And darned if her body wasn’t taking off and reacting favorably to that heated look. When he settled the Stetson on his head, it made him look like a cowhand, not a ranger. Trying to ignore her body and silly heart, she quickly cleaned up Goldy, who enjoyed all the attention.

They worked like a well-oiled team, which surprised Dev. She quickly saddled her mare and led her out of the barn, the bridle in her other hand. Rocky, the big gray gelding with the black mane and tail, was Sloan’s horse. He was a rangy horse like his owner, probably part Thoroughbred because he was a good sixteen hands high. Of course, Sloan was a tall man and needed a bigger horse than she did for her size. Rocky was just as placid as his master. Dev waited outside the barn, allowing Goldy to nibble at the grass poking up here and there. She liked to watch Sloan move. He was graceful in a masculine sort of way.

“How old is Rocky?” she called down the aisle.

“He’s ten,” Sloan replied, running a comb and unsnarling Rocky’s long, thick mane.

“Is he a USFS horse?”

Shaking his head, Sloan said, “No, he’s mine.”

“He’s a nice-looking animal.”

Grinning as he patted his horse’s long, slender neck, he said, “I’d like to think so. Can’t be a farrier and not be paying attention to the all-important conformation of a horse’s legs. He’s got near-perfect legs, but so does your mare.” He glanced in her direction. “Says something about your horse knowledge, Dev.”

Heat fled up Dev’s neck and into her face. She was blushing from his praise and the warm looks he gave her. Sloan finished grooming Rocky and unsnapped the gelding from the crossties. All the man had to do was lower that voice of his and Dev felt like he’d reached out and stroked her with one of those beautiful male hands. To say she was befuddled didn’t even begin to describe her body’s reactions to being around Sloan Rankin. He was amiable, genial even, but not being a flirt or trying to let her know that he liked her.

Dev was positive Sloan liked her. With a groan, she took Goldy to the trailer. Both doors were open and she led Goldy into her narrow stall and snapped her halter to the chain in front. Moving up to the compartment, she watched Sloan throw the halter lead across Rocky’s withers and cluck to him. The horse moved into the stall without hesitation and then stood quietly until Sloan got around to his side compartment to snap the lead to the trailer.

“That horse is used to hauling,” Dev said, impressed. Not many horses would just hop into a trailer without being led in by a person.

“Rocky doesn’t get upset about much,” Sloan assured her. “Kinda like me...” He stepped out and shut the door. Dev followed. She went to the rear and watched Sloan close and lock the rear barn doors.

“Ready?” he asked, meeting her gaze.

“Very. I’m excited to get out into these mountains.” Dev smiled a little, looking up at the massive peaks that were lined up in a row, north to south. “This is such a gorgeous place to work.”

“Sure is,” Sloan agreed, meeting her smile. “We’re going up to the Moose Lake area. Lots of tourists get up in that area and get lost. I have no idea why, but it’s a hot spot for us.”

Snorting to herself as she climbed in the cab of his truck, Dev thought Sloan was a hot spot for her!

As they drove northward on the main two-lane highway through the park, Dev couldn’t stop her curiosity about Sloan. She asked, “You have a sort of Southern drawl. Where were you born?” She saw him slant a glance in her direction and then return his attention to driving.

“I was born in the Allegheny Mountains of West Virginia,” he told her. “Place no one’s heard of, Black Mountain.” Opening his fingers on the wheel for a moment, he added, “Most people, when I tell them that, think I’m a hillbilly.”

Dev caught the amusement in the inflection of his voice. “Nothing wrong with that.”

He raised a brow. “No?”

“No. Why would you ask?” Dev felt him teasing her and she enjoyed watching the corner of his mouth curve upward a little.

“Curious as to how you would respond to the label.”

“Do most people catalog you because of it?” she asked. When he glanced at her, she saw thoughtfulness in his gaze. The man was easy to read. Unlike Bart Gordon, who always smiled, who always showered her with compliments, telling her how beautiful her hair was or how pretty her eyes were. It got so she hated to be in the same building with him.

“What does the word hillbilly bring up for you?” Sloan asked.

Shrugging, Dev petted Bella, who sat on the floor between her legs. “Actually, lucky, because they were born in rural parts of America. In more natural surroundings, rather than the big city or suburban areas.”

“And you weren’t born in nature?”

She grinned. “Technically, I was born in the suburbs of Casper, Wyoming, but out in back of our house there was nothing but fields that went on forever. I felt like I lived in nature.”

“So you’re a tough Wyoming-bred woman?”

The way his voice caressed her, Dev had to shake herself out of the sensation of warmth surrounding her. It was as if Sloan had invisibly embraced her. But he hadn’t. “I don’t know about tough,” she said, “but yes, I’m used to long winters.”

That brought a smile to his mouth. “Yes, you would be. Where I come from we have about three months, but then it starts warming up.”

“Did you learn your farrier trade from your father?”

“Yes, I did. You’re pretty astute.”

“I find in some families that skill is passed down.”

“So,” he mused aloud, giving her a quick look, “you’re a pretty observant woman. How did you get that way?”

“People interest me,” Dev admitted, hungry for this kind of intimate conversation to better explore Sloan. She didn’t look too closely at why.

“You’re an extrovert?”

“Mostly, although—” Dev looked out the window at the passing grassy meadows and the evergreens skirting around them “—I consider myself half and half. My mother is an introvert. My father is an extrovert. I think I got a little from both of them. What about you?”

“My pa and ma are both introverts, so I got a double dose of it.”

She smiled softly, absorbing his clean, rugged profile. There was nothing weak about Sloan Rankin. He was, in her book, a man’s man. “You like quiet, no crowds and not getting peopled to death daily. How on earth did you get into the Forest Service, then? Most of our duties, with a few exceptions, involve interfacing with the public on a daily basis.”

“They hired me for a couple of reasons. I don’t think it crossed their minds that I was a total introvert. I came out of the Army and was a combat assault–dog handler. Plus, my pa taught me to be a blacksmith, and they were looking for someone good with animals and who had farrier skills.” He smiled a little, slanting a look toward Dev. “Most of the time, I’m with animals, not humans. They never stress me. But put me on the visitor’s desk? Then I’m tensed up tighter than a riled copperhead.”

She chuckled. “So you were in the military?”

“I was. I guess I fit the profile of a dog handler at the testing phase and got shuttled out of basic and into dog training. Ended up with a few two-year-long deployments to Afghanistan with my boy Mouse.”

“Those had to be intense deployments,” Dev muttered, frowning. “Dangerous work every day.”

“It was. I wanted out of the Army after my four-year enlistment was up. My dog had a nervous breakdown of sorts. We got attacked on a hill with RPGs being thrown at us from three directions. My dog couldn’t handle it.” And then his mouth thinned. “None of us could, so the dog’s anxiety was merely a reflection of all of ours. He just showed it outwardly. The rest of us stuffed it deep down inside of us instead. Animals are more honest than most humans, I’ve found.”

Dev felt tension and grief surround Sloan for a moment, and then the sensation dissolved. It surprised her he would allow his feelings to show and wondered why. Did he trust her? Or was he that way with everyone? “I was in the Marine Corps for four years,” she admitted quietly. “I was a dog handler, too. Only I was out on deployments with bomb-sniffing dogs, not like what you did. Your kind of work was far more dangerous than mine.”

“So, you were in the Corps?”

“Now, you aren’t going to throw labels on me, are you, Sloan?” she teased a little, watching his shoulders come down to their normal position. Just talking about those dangerous deployments had tensed him up. Dev understood fully.

“Me? Nah. I believe in letting a person show me who they are through their actions, not their words. Still, I find it interesting we were both in the military and both dog handlers, although in different capacities.”

Moving her fingers across Bella’s sleek, golden head, Dev smiled softly. “I loved my work, but the heat was brutal. Bella here is my second dog. She got injured in a bomb blast and I got to take her with me after I got out.”

He scowled. “Were you injured, too?”

“Just shrapnel. Bella’s the one who took the real injury.” Dev held up her right arm. “The doctor picked out a bunch of shrapnel from my lower arm and shoulder. I’m good as new now. Bella took a big piece in her left shoulder. She develops a bit of a limp if we’re out tracking more than six hours. Other than that, she’s in no pain and is great at what she does.”

Sloan’s brows drew downward, his mouth flexing, as if unhappy. A powerful sense of protection washed over Dev and this time she knew it was from Sloan, how he was feeling toward her. Never had she felt this kind of a reaction from a man. She wondered if he was aware of it. Glancing at his profile, he seemed intent on driving. Oh, how humans hid things from one another. With an internal shake of her head, Dev knew full well she had been hiding her real feelings and reactions from the day that IED had gone off, sending her and Bella into the air, blown ten feet backward from the blast wave. Even now, her hearing wasn’t back to normal.

It had ruptured both her eardrums. And even Bella’s hearing wasn’t perfect, which was why the Marine Corps had released her.

“Well,” Sloan drawled, “I’m fairly sure you’re glossing over your time in the military. On any given night, I can have a nightmare and recall every last detail whether I want to or not.”

CHAPTER FOUR

THE GRAVEL PARKING lot near Moose Lake was huge. There were steep trails that led to a waterfall halfway up the flank of one of the jagged, snow-dusted Tetons. The sun was warm on Dev’s back. Both horses were frisky and eagerly trotted toward the narrow, rocky trail that disappeared quickly in the fir trees. Bella happily trotted behind Goldy, keeping pace with them. Dev had a leash but didn’t use it in such tight quarters. Besides, her dog was voice trained and Bella would obey her without hesitation. The air was pungent with the scent of the evergreens, and Dev thought it was one of her most favorite fragrances as she followed Rocky and Sloan up a steep switchback. They disappeared around the corner for a moment. Dev noted there was spring runoff snow from further above. The soil was slippery. On top of that, rocks appeared out of the mud and crisscrosses of roots snaked horizontally across the trail.

As they moved more deeply into the woods, always staying on switchbacks and climbing ever higher, Dev absorbed the muted silence of the forest surrounding them. She heard a blue jay calling in the distance. In front of Rocky, who had settled down to a plodding walk because of the nature of the challenging trail, she saw a robin on the path, pulling a worm out of the ground.

Dev tried not to appreciate Sloan’s broad shoulders, which were pulled back with natural pride. But now she realized it was a military posture, too. The fact that he had been an Army combat-dog handler made her feel good. Why, she wasn’t quite sure, but because of her own experience it served to tell Dev that Sloan was a patient, kind person. A dog handler had to be sensitive, fully aware not only of themselves or their surroundings, but of the dog who was working and keeping the rest of the soldiers safe from hidden IEDs planted by the local Taliban.

Just the swaying movement of Goldy between her legs lulled her into a relaxation, more like a meditation, that Dev loved. The morning was perfect in every way. And the man in front of her tugged at her dormant heart. For months, Dev had been wrapped in anxiety, nightmares and sleeplessness after Gordon’s attack on her. Her male supervisor had wanted her to go get therapy, but Dev had refused. Her mother, an airline pilot, was a very strong, confident woman. Dev had never seen her buckle under any loads she carried, and she wasn’t about to buckle under hers, either. She’d just had to gut her way through it.

About a mile into the trail, it widened and Dev noticed that two trails to the east and west branched off from the one they were on. Sloan halted his horse and turned around at the juncture.

“Nice riding, isn’t it?” he asked her, watching as Bella came and sat down nearby, panting and looking happy to be out in the woods with them. Big dogs needed big exercise to stay happy.

Dev wore her dark green USFS baseball cap. “Yes, gorgeous. It’s so peaceful here.” She smiled fondly, looking around, absorbing all the smells and sounds around them.

Pushing his Stetson up on his brow Sloan said, “This east trail goes to the waterfall about half a mile above us.” He gestured toward the upward slope. “The other trail goes down into Lupine Meadow. It’s a very large meadow about a quarter of a mile from the waterfall.” He pointed to the signs. “You can see they’re well marked. What happens is that parents with small children who go to the Lupine Meadow trail are pretty bushed by the time they arrive at the spot. Once they get into the meadow, which is very large and wide, they let the children run around. Nothing wrong with that, but if you got more than one child to look after, distraction occurs and the parents tend to lose one of ’em.”

Nodding, Dev lifted her leg and curved it around the saddle horn to ease the stress on it. She hadn’t ridden in about two weeks, so her legs needed to get their muscles back. “Are we going to the meadow?”

“Yes. First, I’ll take you to the waterfall area and then there’s a small, unmarked trail that goes directly to Lupine. Most tourists don’t find it because it’s pretty well hidden. Plus, there’s a grizzly whose territory is around there and she has two one-year-old cubs with her. We don’t mark that trail nor do we want tourists on it. The construction teams use it, though, when we pack in equipment on the mules to repair trails or other areas that need fixing after the hard winters we get around here.”

Taking off her cap, Dev pushed her fingers through her loose hair. She saw something in Sloan’s eyes but couldn’t translate it. Her body, however, did respond to that millisecond look as she slid her fingers through her hair. “Okay, I’d like to see that trail, too. Has anyone ever gotten lost on it?”

Sloan shook his head. “No, thank God. Because the mother grizzly has a den up about one-tenth of a mile off it and the Forest Service doesn’t want anyone up there. Right now, we’ve got grizzly warning signs around the waterfall area where she comes to get water. If she’s spotted too often by incoming hikers, we’ll shut the whole area down until midsummer when she’s not so hungry as to be looking at tourists as a food source.” Sloan grinned a little.

“Do grizzlies really want to eat a human being?”

“Not really. But if the human gets in their territory, then the bear perceives them as a threat and will attack. You ever seen a grizzly?”

“No. From the sounds of it, I don’t want to, either.”

“Oh,” Sloan murmured, “you’ll meet them soon enough.” He glanced over at Bella. “And what’s worse, you have a dog in tow. Bears really get agitated when seeing a dog and that’s why they aren’t allowed in either the Tetons or Yellowstone Park. Grizzlies, I think, see them as wolves. They aren’t, but bear perception is such that they are seen as a definite threat.” He touched the quart of bear spray hanging off his left hip. “This is why whenever you take Bella with you, you have bear spray as a deterrent. And you have to make sure she won’t go bark or charge the bear, either, because that will only worsen the situation.”

“Do they like to eat horses?” Dev asked, running her fingers gently through Goldy’s black mane.

“The scent will attract them,” Sloan said. “Usually, we get bear and horse attacks on riders who are staying and camping overnight in certain areas of the Tetons. Grizzlies are starving to death when they come out of hibernation, which is right now, and they will eat anything they see. Horses look like big elk to them and elk are their favorite meat source on the hoof.”

Mouth tightening, Dev looked down at the leather sheath beneath her left leg. There was a .30-06 rifle in it, loaded, with the safety on. It was a bear rifle and would stop one, if necessary. Not that she wanted to kill one of those magnificent bears, but Sloan had said they could range between six hundred to a thousand pounds. And that was a threat to Dev, pure and simple. Her horse weighed a thousand pounds. She couldn’t imagine a brute of a grizzly weighing that much, but Sloan assured her they were around, and plentiful among the females of the population.

“I just don’t want to run into one,” Dev muttered, frowning.

“You will. Guaranteed. And if you’re tracking to find a tourist, it’s what you do with Bella that counts the most.” Sloan regarded the yellow Lab, who had lain down in the muddy trail to cool off. They had ridden for half an hour, a constant climb. Right now, they were at seven thousand feet. The horses were breathing heavier, too, so it was a good time to allow them a rest. “Has Bella had confrontations with black bears where you were assigned before?”

“Yes, quite a few times. The trails in the Smoky Mountains aren’t like these.” She gestured around them. “They’re wide, clean paths in comparison to this stuff.” Dev wrinkled her nose. “When tracking, I always had Bella on a long lead from my horse I rode. But here, it’s impossible to do that.”

“It’s rough country,” Sloan agreed, placing his hand on Rocky’s rump and stretching a little. “As long as Bella is a hundred percent controllable by voice commands, you’ll be okay. And she doesn’t bark, so that’s in her favor. Bears get riled and agitated in a hurry when a dog is barking at them.”

“Probably reminds them of wolves calling back and forth to one another?” Dev suggested.

“Yep. That’s it in a nutshell. Well? Ready to move on?” Sloan smiled.

Heat skittered down through her lower body, his smile warming her, the corners of his eyes crinkling. There was a sultry, inviting sensation enveloping Dev right now and it felt like a big fuzzy blanket embracing her. When she knew Sloan better, she’d talk to him about this feeling that came around her at times when she was with him. Maybe he could explain it, because she sure couldn’t! The fact that she willingly absorbed the sensation confused her, as well. “Yep,” Dev said, uncurling her leg from around the horn of her saddle and slipping the tip of her boot into the stirrup, “I’m ready.”

* * *

SLOAN COULDN’T KEEP his gaze off Dev as they sat near the roaring waterfall that fell over a hundred feet into a pool. They sat on the grass and ate their midmorning snack. The horses were both trained to ground tie and knew they had to stand where they were placed. Bella had eagerly lapped up the water and now sat next to Dev, who was on a bank, her long legs hanging over it. She had taken off her baseball cap, and her black hair was shining like a raven’s wing beneath the sunlight. It was cold at nine thousand feet where the waterfall sat but they were bundled in their brown down-and-nylon jackets.

Sloan sat about four feet above Dev on the slope of the rocky cliff. Below them, the dark green pool of water was in constant motion from the falls. Sometimes, when the breeze changed, some of the mist would come their way, but it didn’t soak them. The sunlight was bright and blinding. Sloan absorbed the heat, liking it against the chill of the morning temperature. In May, he knew too well that even if one moment there could be sun, the mountains made their own weather. Clouds could swiftly gather, dark and heavy with snow and rain, and dump on the eastern slope.

Dev was nibbling on a protein bar and had her canteen open near her right hand. He covertly watched some of the black strands of her hair lift and play in the breeze. Her hands were long and artistic looking. Sloan wanted to ask Dev if she was an artist, too. He wondered about her time in the military, about getting wounded by the IED. From his own experience, those events branded a person forever. He wondered how jumpy she really was because it hadn’t shown up—yet. Though remembering that split-second terror in her eyes a day ago, Sloan wondered if it was connected to the PTSD from the blast. Right now Dev didn’t appear anxious. But then, he thought as he looked around in appreciation of the area, the Tetons usually encouraged a person to let down their guard and relax. Nature had that effect on tense, overstressed human beings, he’d observed.

“Tell me more about your parents,” Sloan urged her, figuring it was a safe enough topic. He saw Dev give Bella the last of her protein bar and rest her hand on her dog’s back. Clearly, she loved her Lab. Sloan found himself wondering what it would be like to feel Dev’s hand stroking him like it was stroking Bella. Whatever sizzled and popped between him and Dev was not only alive but more intense every time he found himself around her. And Sloan had never felt this kind of connection with a woman before. It reminded him of a pot on a stove, getting ready to boil at any given moment. Something was bubbling between them.

Dev turned. “It’s a story light and dark,” she said with a shrug. “My parents met in the Air Force. My mom was a captain and a pilot of C-130 transports. My father was a captain in the maintenance section on those types of aircraft. They fell in love and stayed in the military for seven years. When my mom, Lily, got pregnant with me, she got out. She was thirty when she had me.” Dev smiled fondly. Then, her brows drew down a little and her voice lowered. “My father, Pete, had a problem with alcohol. While he was in the military, it was a hidden secret from my mom. She was always flying and not at home that much.” She plucked a couple strands of grass, moving them between her fingers as she spoke. “My mother was more than ready to get out of the military. Once she had me, she was hired by a regional airline and she flies with them to this day. My father, however, didn’t adjust well to civilian life.”

“What happened?” Sloan asked.

“Well, as a kid growing up, I didn’t understand he was an alcoholic. My mother didn’t get it until I was a year old. She found him hiding whiskey bottles all over their house, stashing them away. I think, looking back on it, my father needed the rigidity and boundaries that the military naturally provided in order to keep his drinking halfway under control, and to still be able to fully do the work he did.”

“Did your father come from parents who were alcoholics?” Sloan wondered.

“Yes. But my mother didn’t find out until she discovered his secret. I remember growing up with them yelling and screaming at one another. My father refused to stop drinking. My mother, because of her airline shifts, wasn’t at home to raise me. I had a lot of babysitters and maybe that was a good thing.” Dev allowed the torn, twisted strands of grass to drop from her fingers and fall to the nearby rocks.

“Why do you say that?”

“My father resented me being in their lives.” She gave Sloan a sad smile. “I didn’t know why my father didn’t like me...or love me... I just felt as a child he didn’t want me underfoot or around. He had a job with a metal manufacturer in Casper and had shift work. When he had a night shift, he had to babysit me during the day and he really hated that.”

Sloan frowned. “How do you know that?”

Dev picked more strands of grass because it soothed her. She twisted the long lengths between her fingers, staring down at them because she didn’t have the courage to see the look that was probably in Sloan’s eyes. Why was she telling him this? She’d never told anyone about it before. No one knew. Why him? Compressing her lips, Dev said, “I remember him telling me to stay in my room, not to dare going outside. At that time, I was seven years old, and I loved being outdoors. I used to sneak out through my bedroom window and run in the fields while he was drinking. When he drank, he’d fall sleep on the couch, and that’s when I’d get out of the house and escape outdoors.”

“You were seven?”

Dev heard the growl in Sloan’s voice and looked over at him. His eyes were banked with censure and anger. She knew it wasn’t aimed at her but at her irresponsible father. “Yes.” Hitching one shoulder upward she said, “Don’t worry, I grew up fast. My mother would be gone three or four days at a time, depending upon where she was flying. My father would sleep six or eight hours when drunk. We had a dog, Ghost, and I’d go out with her. She was a white husky with blue eyes. She was so beautiful. She was like my teddy bear growing up, and always protective and caring of me. We’d go out into the meadow and just go explore for hours. When I got hungry, I’d walk home and go to the kitchen and make myself a sandwich.”

“Did your father know you did this?” Sloan tried to remove the anger from his voice.

“No. I never told him. I had his drunk schedule down pat and knew when I could do it and get away with it. I never told my mother, either, because if I did, they’d start screaming and yelling at one another. I couldn’t stand their anger. Whenever they’d fight, I’d run to my room and Ghost would come and lie on my bed with me and give me a doggy hug.”

Shaking his head, Sloan said, “I’m really sorry you had to live through that. Did your father ever hurt your mother or you?”

Dev felt a powerful sense of protection wash over her and understood now that it was coming from him. Maybe she could equate it to the doggy hugs that Ghost always gave her when she was feeling isolated and alone. “He never laid a hand on me or Mom, thank God. When I was old enough to realize he was an alcoholic, I ruthlessly researched the disease and what it meant. I wanted to understand why he was the way he was. Why—” and Dev choked up a little, avoiding Sloan’s intense stare “—he couldn’t love me. He never hugged me or kissed me or told me he loved me. He just didn’t have it in him. Frankly, after I grew up and matured a little, I saw why he couldn’t. My father couldn’t even love himself. So how could he reach out to love me?”

“But your parents are still together?”

“Yeah. Figure it out. I can’t. I don’t know why my mom never left my father.”

“Do you go home at all?” Sloan asked.

“No. I talk to my mom on Skype and we send emails back and forth, but I won’t go home. I know my father doesn’t like me around. And I don’t want to be around someone like that.” Dev gave him a wry look. “Life’s hard enough without going out and walking into the lion’s den to get bitten again.”

Shaking his head, Sloan said quietly, “I’m sorry, Dev. You deserve a helluva lot better than that.”

“I don’t know many people who have completely happy families, Sloan. Mine is completely dysfunctional. But so are a lot of other families. There are no happy endings from what I can see, for most people. We’re all wounded. It’s just a question of whether the wounds run our lives or not.” She dropped the shredded grass by her side, pushing her hands down her Levi’s. “I refuse to let the wounds my parents gave me run my life. I’m working through them, one at a time. I’m slowly winning my freedom...”

Sloan stretched out on the grass, an elbow propping him up as he studied her. “I’m pretty lucky,” he told her. “My parents gave me a happy childhood in comparison to yours. I was an only child, by the way.”

“Tell me about it?” Because Dev found herself starved to know more about Sloan, how he had become the man he was today. She saw amusement linger in his blue eyes as he pondered her question. “I could use some good news,” she added with a slight grin.

“We didn’t have much money,” he told her. “My pa, Custus, is a farrier, plus a leather, saddle and harness maker. Between these skills, he had a nice business and was able to support our family. My ma, Wilma, stayed at home, gardened, canned, cooked and kept us in clean clothes and a clean house. She loves cooking, baking especially. She was also a seamstress, and often other Hill people would come to her to make special clothing, like a wedding dress for a daughter that was getting married, things like that. She also makes school-age clothes for the Hill children whose mothers didn’t have the talent my ma has.”

“I love to sew, too,” Dev said wistfully. “Your mother sounds like she’s incredibly skilled at it. I don’t know anyone else who could make a wedding dress.” She saw Sloan’s dark features begin to relax as he shared the story of his parents. She was glad that someone had parents who loved them. She was beginning to understand why he was so calm and at ease and confident with himself.

“She also does tatting, crocheting, knitting and needlework,” he offered. “There’re some beautiful doilies made by my grandmother that my mother uses to this day.”

“Those things should be cherished forever and handed down from one generation to another,” Dev agreed. “She sounds wonderful.”

“She is,” he said with a slight smile. “Now, she has her bad days, and I grew up hearing my parents argue, but they discussed things. They didn’t get angry and yell at one another. And I think that makes a huge difference for a child.”

She raised her brows. “Oh, I think it does. I grew up thinking everyone, when they got angry, screamed and yelled at one another. It was only when I’d do sleepovers with my friends at their houses that I realized my parents were not the norm.”

“My pa is a pretty stubborn man,” Sloan said, amusement in his tone. “My ma calls him mule headed upon occasion. She said I take after him.”

Dev grinned. “So far, I haven’t seen you be mule headed.”

“I like to think I learned from my pa’s stubbornness at times, and modified it a bit.”

“Where did you get your calmness, Sloan? From your mother or father?” Dev wanted to delve deeply into this man who made her feel incredibly at ease in his presence.

“From both of them. My ma never gets rattled and neither does my pa. I guess I have a family calmness gene?” He laughed a little.

Dev chuckled. “Well, whether you know it or not, when you’re around me, I always feel that deep sense of calm around you.” More shyly, she added, “And it helps me ramp down, take a deep breath and just be.”

“You seem mighty calm from the outside,” Sloan noted, searching her eyes.

“It’s a game face,” Dev admitted. Opening her hands, she said, “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t feel anxious.”

“Well,” he drawled, “you grew up in a household where there were threats and you were in survival mode. It would make any innocent and vulnerable child feel unsafe, don’t you think?”

“I guess I never quantified my childhood like that,” Dev admitted.

“Do most people make you feel edgy?” he asked.

“Yes, if I’m truthful.” Dev sighed and gave him a confused look. “But with you, Sloan, I let my guard down. I relax. I don’t feel anxiety when I’m around you. It’s really odd. That’s never happened to me before.” She saw him give her an assessing look, a momentary burning expression in his eyes that quickly disappeared and was replaced with a hint of kindness.

“That’s a nice compliment. You know, farriers are good at soothing a fractious horse or mule they have to shoe. They generally work real quiet and slow around an animal to get it to relax and get it to trust them.”

Dev straightened, his words filling her heart with a new realization. Trust. That was it! For whatever inexplicable reason, Dev trusted Sloan. And on the heels of that, she suddenly realized for the first time that she had never trusted her father, and that had directly led to her always feeling anxious around him growing up. Even now, when she thought of him her anxiety would amp up. And just as quickly, when she was around Sloan her anxiety dissolved. Instantly. Always. It was trust. Moistening her lips, she said softly, “You’re right. Farriers can calm the most scared horse or mule.” And he could calm not only her general anxiety, but mysteriously dissolve the fear of men she’d developed since Gordon’s attack.

Sloan slowly sat up. He gazed up at the waterfall, appreciation in his expression. “I could stay here all day,” he confided to her. “There’s just something about running water, the sound of it, that fills my thirsty soul and sates it.” He slanted a glance in Dev’s direction. “What about you? Does water have that kind of effect on you?”

“Oh, yes. I remember as a kid we had a creek that ran through that large meadow out behind our home. When I was feeling really upset, me and Ghost would go to the creek. There’s a part of it where there’s a little two-foot waterfall and I always used to sit down there. I’d cry, get out whatever I was feeling, and then let the water heal me. I always felt better being around water, Sloan.” And she almost blurted, You’re like water to me. Healing. Wonderful. Soothing my soul. But she didn’t.

“I wish I’d known you growing up,” Sloan said, rising and brushing off his lower legs. “I’d have let you cry on my shoulder and just held you.”

His piercing gaze cut straight through to her opening heart and Dev felt Sloan’s protectiveness and something else that she couldn’t define. It made her go all warm and fuzzy inside. When he offered her his hand, she slipped her fingers into his. She felt the thick calluses on his fingers and palm, the strength that he called on as he pulled her to her feet. There was a storminess in his eyes and she sensed he was upset for her about her childhood. Sloan didn’t try to mask how he felt and that was refreshing to Dev. Reluctantly, she pulled her fingers from his large worn hand. Her heart wanted her to move closer to him, slide her arms around his neck and broad shoulders. The ache within her lower body caught her by surprise. He was so tall, so solid and reassuring to her emotionally that Dev found herself falling into his blue gaze, reading that he wanted to kiss her.

That snapped Dev out of her reverie. A kiss?

They barely knew one another, her head warned her. Dev took a step back, suddenly unsure of herself, not of Sloan. She had no idea what was taking place between them because no man had ever affected her as deeply and wonderfully as Sloan did. And yet, Dev knew he wasn’t stalking her. He was casual. Not chasing her. This cowboy was the opposite of Gordon. Night-and-day difference.

CHAPTER FIVE

BART SMILED A LITTLE. He had the weekend off as a truck driver for Ace. He’d been working for two weeks, showing his boss he had the right stuff. Rivas, the owner, seemed happy with him, and that was all that counted. Even better, Rivas had given him a cot in a back room near the repair bay, a place to stay, until he could find somewhere to live. There was more to it than that, of course, Bart thought as he drove in his silver Dodge Ram. The day was sunny even though the sun was sinking in the West across the Tetons. The mid-June weather had been welcoming and warming. No more snow flurries, thank God.

He was driving down Moose Road toward a set of condo buildings on the left. On the right were apartment complexes sticking out on the flat land. So far, he’d found out that Dev Blake was at the Teton Park HQ. They wouldn’t give out her phone number or address and so he’d hung up on the person answering the phone. He had learned that, yes, Dev was working at the visitor’s center.

Today, he was going to check out the condos and the apartment complexes. The only way to find out where she was living was to go into the condo office and ask for her. So far, he’d turned up nothing. His mind roved over other possibilities, such as Dev living with another woman ranger and splitting the rent somewhere in town. If it was a house, she was going to be harder to trace. Bart was hoping she had opted for one of these places on Moose Road because he’d exhausted all other rental properties, working from southern to northern Jackson Hole. He’d gone east and now he was finishing up by going west. The bitch had to be living somewhere.

And finding out she was working at the visitor’s center was a piece of good luck. If nothing else, on his day off, he could hang out in the large parking lot and observe. Bart knew Dev McGuire owned a blue-and-white Ford pickup truck. It was another piece of vital info he needed in order to find out where she was living. Making a right turn, he decided to go into the apartment complex and parked near the office. Bart climbed out of the cab. He had made sure he looked like a tourist in a red polo shirt, a fisherman’s hat and ivory chinos.

“Hey,” he called, coming in the door and smiling at the young blond-haired woman behind the desk, “how are you?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “May I help you?”

Folding his hands on the pine counter Bart said, “I’m looking for a friend of mine. Dev McGuire. By any chance is she living here? I’d like to connect with her.” Bart saw the girl’s young face redden a little as she put the name into the computer behind the counter. Bart knew she would not give Dev’s apartment number or phone number. That was just the way it was.

“Why...yes, she moved in here two weeks ago.”

“Great,” he murmured, rewarding her with a flirty look. “I’ll get in touch with her, then. Thanks. Have a good day.”

Once in his pickup, Bart grinned and decided to drive around the three major parking lots to the three apartment towers. He tapped the wheel with his index finger, feeling a surge of triumph. The bitch thought she was done with him? He chuckled, feeling a sense of overwhelming victory.

There was no blue-and-white Ford pickup parked in any of the lots. He glanced at his watch. It was 5:30 p.m. He wasn’t sure what shift Dev had. And those shifts changed every three months, anyway. As he got out, his gut told him to park at the first tower. At his back was the second tower and parking lot. Seeing a number of people coming home for the evening, he figured the mailboxes just inside the door would have names on them—possibly. That wasn’t always the case, but he’d find out.

He went up to the main entry door but found it locked. An older woman in her fifties approached. He pretended to be looking in his pockets as she drew abreast of him.

“You know what?” he said, smiling at her. “I can’t find my card. By any chance, can you let me in? I just moved in three days ago.” Bart knew his megawatt smile always affected women. That was how he lured them in. The woman flushed and nodded.

“Oh, moving is so rough. Of course I can.” She went forward and slid her card into the slot. The door clicked.

Bart moved toward it, opened it and gestured grandly for her to go in ahead of him.

“Thank you,” she said. There was a bank of elevators to the left and she headed toward them.

Spotting the row of aluminum mailboxes, Bart quickly peeled off to the right, eyes narrowed, hoping to find Dev’s name. Each one had a number. Some had names on them, too. Others did not. About half were just numbers. He was frustrated. If Dev was in this tower, she had a number only. Damn. So close...

* * *

SLOAN PARKED AT the complex and got Mouse out of the cab of his truck and onto a leash. He immediately noticed a tall red-haired man leaving Tower One, hands in his pockets. The stranger gazed around, as if trying to find someone. Sloan closed the door and stood, watching him. Mouse suddenly became alert. His dog was basically psychic, moving into that state of superawareness. Sloan knew most of the residents. He’d lived here two years and he made it his business to know faces and cars. The man briefly glanced in his direction and then swiftly looked away when he realized Sloan was studying him.

Something didn’t feel right about this fellow. Sloan watched the man walk to a big silver Dodge Ram, climb in and then leave, heading south on Moose Road, toward town. Rubbing the back of his neck, he saw Mouse watching him, too. The dog was getting a hit, just like he had. And that was why Mouse was so good at what he did. The leather leash was wrapped around Sloan’s hand. “Come on, let’s go in, Mouse.”

The dog wagged his tail, following him.

Sloan’s mind drifted to Dev. Since that trail ride two weeks ago, it seemed that life was doing everything it could to keep them apart. He rarely saw her, except when she came into the barn to take Goldy for a ride on one of the nearby trails. He was always either leaving or coming back from shoeing assignments for the Forest Service. No one had any idea how many mules and horses the USFS had in this area. The rangers always rode horses and the mules did the heavy lifting. The mules carried shovels, pickaxes, quick-drying cement, and loads of posts and nails where needed.

Sloan wanted to see Dev. Where was she? He knew she was still on the day shift. Maybe she’d gone into town to do some grocery shopping? Dammit, he missed her. Missed hearing her husky voice, seeing the sparkle of gold in her dark green eyes, the way she tilted her head, the way her sleek black hair curled across her shoulders, emphasizing the natural beauty of her face. Those lips of hers teased his senses.

With a groan, Sloan took the stairs to the second floor, Mouse at his side. Maybe he should leave a note on her door? Invite her over for a glass of wine after dinner? He preferred beer, but Sloan had found out in their conversations she was a white-wine lover. And last week he’d bought a bottle that she liked and stored it in his fridge...just in case.

Opening his door, Sloan pushed it wide and took a look around. Old habits died hard in him. He’d breached a lot of doors of Taliban homes in Afghanistan. He could feel Mouse tensing, as if ready to be sent in to find and attack the enemy. Patting his dog’s head, he unsnapped the leash and Mouse bounded inside, heading for the kitchen where there was a big bowl of water. By the time Sloan got in, locked the door, and found a pad and pen, Mouse was noisily lapping up water. Sloan smiled to himself and wondered how single people managed without a dog or cat to lighten their lives, make things better. He’d been raised around farm animals, dogs and cats all his life. Sloan would be lonely without an animal to keep him company.

He scribbled the note, found a piece of tape and opened his door to walk across the hall to stick it on Dev’s.

“Hey,” Dev called, waving to him as she walked down the hall. Bella, at her side on a leash, wagged her tail upon seeing Sloan.

Halting, Sloan grinned. She was in her ranger uniform and looked a little tired. “Hey, yourself.” He lifted the paper. “I haven’t seen you hardly at all in the past two weeks so I was going to put this on your door and invite you over for some white wine, if you wanted.” He liked the smile coming to Dev’s face as her cheeks flushed. Her hair was in disarray and it looked like she’d been outdoors.

Dev held out her hand. “I’ll take that invite. I need it tonight.” She opened the door and said, “Let me change. You pour the wine and I’ll be over in two heartbeats.”

Nodding, Sloan felt his heart expand. “You got it.”

“Is it okay if I bring Bella over?”

Mouse always enjoyed Bella’s company. Why not? “Sure.” Dev’s green eyes lit up and Sloan’s lower body instantly tightened. Her smile always made his heart beat a little faster, his yearning increase.

Entering his apartment, Sloan felt lighter. The injured part of him fought with the delicious, dizzying happiness that tunneled through him. He put all his bad experiences aside. Dev interested him and he craved her company. Looking at Mouse, who was wagging his tail as if reading his mind, Sloan chuckled and walked to the kitchen to get the wine and pour her a glass. “You’re going to get some company, too, partner.”

Mouse whined, his dark brown eyes shining with anticipation.

That was about the way Sloan felt as he poured the wine and then got himself a cold beer out of his fridge. He decided Dev might be hungry, so he sliced up some Gouda cheese on a plate and added some crackers to it. Might as well go all the way. As he placed the plate on the kitchen table, there was a light knock at his door. Sloan tried to ignore his heart bouncing in reaction.

Opening the door, he saw Dev had changed into a pair of baggy gray workout pants and she wore a loose pale green tee. Bella was at her side on a leash, wagging her tail and panting, her eyes sparkling, too.

“Come on in,” he invited, standing aside. This was only the second time Dev had been in his apartment. As she walked by, Sloan automatically inhaled her scent, evergreen combined with her own sweet fragrance that made him groan internally. Good thing he was wearing Levi’s, but that didn’t make the ache of his erection feel any better as it pressed against the zipper, encountering fabric resistance.

Bella remained at Dev’s side until she unsnapped the leash and gave the Lab a hand signal to go join Mouse, who was ever the gentleman, sitting near his big doggy bed in the corner of the large living room. They sniffed and smelled one another in greeting, tails moving excitedly back and forth.

Sloan gestured to the kitchen table. “I don’t imagine you’ve had dinner yet?”

Wrinkling her nose, Dev took the chair he pulled out for her. “No...and honestly? I don’t feel up to a full meal just yet. The cheese and crackers look good, though.” She glanced up, smiling at him.

Sloan saw that Bella was lying down near Mouse, both of them panting and gazing adoringly at one another. Mouse was better behaved than Sloan was feeling right now. Dev’s dark hair was smoothed and brushed. Her cheeks were flushed and as always, his gaze dropped to her mouth for a split second. Sloan sat down at her elbow, sliding the cold beaded glass of white wine toward her. “What happened? You looked a little stressed earlier.”

She nibbled on the cheese and then took a sip of the wine. “Right before 5:00 p.m., an older lady fainted at our desk. Out of the blue. Scared the hell out of me.”

“What was wrong with her?”

“I think a stroke, but I’m not sure. I ran around the counter after she collapsed and with the help of Becky, who was also working a shift, we got her lying down with her head tipped back so she could breathe.”

“I’ll bet the other visitors were upset,” Sloan guessed, taking a drink of beer, the bubbles feeling good in his mouth.

Dev rolled her eyes. “That was the worst part. The woman’s daughter went ballistic. She was shrieking and screaming, completely losing it.”

“People never know what they’ll do until they’re faced with a crisis,” Sloan mused. “Could you talk the daughter down?”

“No,” Dev said, blowing out a big sigh. “I told Becky to deal with her while I stayed with the unconscious woman until the ambulance arrived. A third ranger, Randy, quietly moved all the tourists out of the center and stood guard at the door, giving us some privacy and space.”

“Sounds like you handled it the best you could.”

“Yes, but it really shook me up,” Dev admitted, picking up a cracker.

“It would anyone,” Sloan told her gently. “Don’t be hard on yourself, Dev.” There was something in her eyes, deep in the recesses of them, that Sloan couldn’t define. That same terror he’d seen weeks ago was lurking in their depths. Dev’s brow creased as she frowned and she took a deep drink of the wine. He could see a slight tremble in her fingers around the glass stem as she set it down.

“Well,” Dev muttered, giving him a worried look, “there’s more to this, but you probably realize that.”

Sloan sat back, stretching out his long legs beneath the table. “I can see you’re upset, Dev. What did this event trigger for you?” He might as well try to get her to talk about it. Even though they hadn’t had a lot of time together, it was obvious he and Dev shared something good between them. Would she trust him and let her guard down with him? Sloan didn’t know. He could see her struggle with his question. She pushed her fingers through her hair and he was beginning to understand that with Dev, it was a gesture of nervousness, of not being sure about something.

So, he waited. Sloan had learned a long time ago when dealing with fractious horses that hated being shod, that just standing quietly and patiently, letting the animal get it out of their system, was the best course of action. And he thought Dev needed that same kind of response from him if she was going to share whatever it was that had triggered the terror in her eyes again.

“Well,” she mumbled, wrapping both hands around the wet stem of the wineglass, “you’re right. It hit me a lot harder than I expected...the noise...the screams...the ambulance...”

Sloan met and held her eyes, seeing the trepidation in them. Dev compressed her lips. “You were in the Marine Corps,” he offered quietly. “And from what you’ve told me, with that IED going off close to you and Bella, plus getting wounded, you probably have a little PTSD from the event. It would be expected, Dev.”

Her mouth thinned further, one corner pulling inward as she gave him a swift look and then returned her gaze to the wineglass in front of her. “I do have PTSD. It wasn’t half as bad as it is now, though...”

Frowning, Sloan remained relaxed, although his instincts told him that Dev needed to be held. Her fingers opened and closed constantly around the stem of the wineglass. He could feel the tension in her because his sixth sense was finely honed from years working in Afghanistan, where every minute he and Mouse could have died if they weren’t careful. His hyperawareness wasn’t something Sloan wanted many people to know about because it usually made them uncomfortable in his midst. Some accused him of having X-ray vision. Or being a mind reader. But it was neither. He just had very well honed instincts at an animal level he’d used to sense out situations that might have been lethal to him and Mouse. Even after leaving the Army, that skill remained online to this day.

The feelings he sensed around Dev were devastating to Sloan. Strong emotions, intense and shattering. What the hell had happened to her? He keyed in on her statement that her PTSD was worse now than before. What did that mean? Had there been another incident in the Marine Corps that had deepened it? Made it worse? He knew there were so many dark emotions that came with their military work in an enemy-rich environment.

Sloan had to stop himself from reaching out and enclosing his hand around Dev’s nervous fingers, now wet from the beads of moisture sliding downward off the wineglass. Even more telling was that Bella had come over and sat down, feeling Dev’s stress. Dogs picked up in a heartbeat on how their human handlers were feeling. Even the Lab looked worried as she studied her mistress.

Dev reached over, giving Bella a pat on the head.

Sloan watched Dev gird herself, straightening her spine, and then she gave him an apologetic glance.

“I guess this incident triggered something that happened to me six months ago.”

Sloan nodded, saying nothing, not wanting to stop her from speaking.

“I was...well... There was this red-haired ranger named Bart Gordon at the HQ where I worked out of in Smoky Mountains National Park.” Dev lowered her voice. “He was always smiling at everyone. He worked with me at the visitor’s center sometimes. It was the only place I ever saw him. Bart had a way with women. If a little girl was crying, he’d come around the counter, crouch down and speak to her and she’d stop crying. He had a kind of magic with women, no matter what their age.”

The terror rushed forward in Dev’s eyes as she spoke, her voice as strained as her expression. Bella moved closer to Dev, placing her head in her lap. Dev automatically stroked her worried dog.

“I was usually out doing tracking with Bella, but I’d heard from my boss that Bart was really a great PR person for the Forest Service because he had a way with words and people.”

Dev gulped and swallowed, her eyes trained on the glass. Something had happened and Sloan’s mind instantly leaped to a place he was reluctant to explore. “What happened between you?”

Dev snapped her head in his direction, her eyes widening. “Am I that obvious?”

Sloan gave her a warm look meant to ratchet down her tension. Instantly, her shoulders dropped. “No. Just my farrier sensing,” he drawled. Dev nodded, tearing her gaze from his.

“I keep forgetting that. I know farriers have almost a telepathic link to the animals they’re working with.”

“Yeah,” he said, a slight hitch in one corner of his mouth, “it’s all about safety.”

“You’re right. It always is.” Dev gave Sloan a searching look and admitted, “Gordon started stalking me. I had only stood duty at the visitor’s center with him a couple of times, but he became fixated on me.”

“Did you want his attention?”

“God, no... Even Bella didn’t like him. And she likes everyone,” Dev said, giving her Lab a loving look, nervously stroking her head and neck. “I tried to stay away from him as much as I could, Sloan. But damn, it was like he was psychic. Bart could pick up on when I was going to be coming back to HQ. He’d always be around at those times and it started triggering my PTSD because he felt like an enemy stalking me. Wanting something from me...”

“Did you inform your supervisor?” Sloan asked. He saw her give a jerky nod.

“I went to him and he laughed it all off. Told me it was my imagination.” Dev glared at the wall in front of her for a moment, seemingly wrestling with escaping emotions. “I filled out a report on it, anyway. He deep-sixed it. After three months of no action, and Gordon following me around like a lost puppy, I put in for a lateral move to come out here.”

“Men protecting men?” Sloan wondered, watching her expression carefully because he could feel how upset Dev really was. Just talking about it was making her edgy and tense. How badly he wanted to get up, move around to her chair, pull it out and draw Dev into his arms. But that wouldn’t be wise because now he knew another man had done something bad to her. And for him to try to hold her could backfire. Dev might see him as a would-be stalker, too.

She grimaced and took a jerky sip of wine, wrestling with barely held rage. “Always,” she gritted out. “I did nothing wrong. I’m not a flirt. I wasn’t in a relationship. But that doesn’t mean I’m out trying to get a man, either.”

“Did your supervisor have a friendship with Gordon?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dev whispered, shaking her head. “One thing you learn real fast about Bart is that he knows how to lure you and then hook you with his smile. With the way he maneuvers you. God, he gets inside your head.” She touched her brow, her voice incredulous. Turning, she met Sloan’s hooded stare. “When I was in Afghanistan, I met plenty of CIA operatives. One thing I found out in a hurry was the way they ingratiate themselves with you in order to gain your trust. Get inside your head.”

Raising his brows, Sloan nodded. “It’s a basic CIA tactic to gain someone’s trust. Find out what they like, what interests them, and then they adopt the same likes and dislikes you have, so you’ll trust them. After all—” and his mouth hooked upward a bit “—it’s a human frailty to fall in with someone who is like-minded. Right?”

Dev saw the gleam of understanding in Sloan’s thoughtful stare. “Yes. That’s exactly what they did. I hated it. I saw it and I’d call them on it. And then—” she rolled her eyes “—I meet Gordon and he was exactly like that. He asks you a bunch of questions, feeling you out, and then he suddenly feels the same way you do on everything.”

“Was he possibly a CIA agent?” Sloan asked.

“I don’t know,” Dev uttered wearily. She sipped her wine. “All I know is that he ingratiated himself with anyone that he thought had power. I watched him do it. I recognized what he was doing.”

“But he was stalking you?”

“Yes... God, I hated it. I knew he had our supervisor in his back pocket. I knew if I went to my boss, he’d bury my protest and not protect me.”

Sloan slowly unwound from the chair, walked to the fridge and pulled out the bottle of wine. Coming back, he refilled her glass. “Come on, you need to eat something,” he urged her, catching her glum, dark-looking eyes. He wanted to do a helluva lot more than pour Dev some wine. She gave him a grateful look and sipped it. Then she picked up a piece of cheese with a small cracker, beginning to nibble disinterestedly on it.

Sloan felt good about the fact that he could affect Dev positively. But his mind spun with so many questions. Was she this trusting with everyone? Was that why Gordon had stalked her? Because she was gullible? As Sloan walked to his chair and sat down, he felt terror and sadness surrounding Dev. She had gone pale as she’d confided in him. There was a lot more to this, he realized. Dev was fragile. Despite her outward appearance of confidence, Sloan felt the wound she’d received, and it had done major damage to her as a person. Perhaps as a woman? He really didn’t want to think Gordon had raped her. Just the thought turned his stomach and tightened it into a painful knot. His fist flexed and Sloan forced himself to remain relaxed. After all, Dev was a dog handler, which spoke about her sensitivity, her all-terrain awareness. She wouldn’t have survived those deployments if she didn’t have that outer awareness every soldier, every dog handler, developed.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Dev. You didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.”

When she turned, her green eyes had a sheen of tears in them. It tore at his heart. Sloan could feel a huge storm of emotions bubbling barely beneath her control. Her lower lip trembled.

CHAPTER SIX

WHY DID SHE suddenly want to burst into tears? Dev blinked a couple of times, forcing back her reaction. Was it the compassionate expression on Sloan’s rugged face? The burning look of care in his narrowed blue eyes? The sensation of Sloan invisibly wrapping her within his strong, safe arms even though he was sitting several feet away from her, sprawled out, relaxed, but focused on her? The sensation was so real Dev closed her eyes for a moment, her fingers tightening around the slender stem of the wineglass. She hadn’t had that much to drink. But maybe her stomach was empty, so she was more susceptible to alcohol.

But the real truth, whether Dev wanted to admit it or not, was that she thoroughly enjoyed Sloan’s easygoing, comfortable company. He was the direct opposite of Bart Gordon, who reminded her of a wild animal on the prowl, hunting for his mate, willing to do anything to make her his. Her gut clenched and she kept her eyes closed, trying to will away the terror that never seemed to leave her. It would steal upon her at odd times. Unexpected ones. Like right now. She should be happy to be with Sloan because he always lifted her spirits. He was kind. Unselfish. Interested in her, but allowing her, from what she could sense, to pace whatever it was between them. He didn’t push her like Gordon had. He didn’t close in on her, making her feel claustrophobic, which she was. Maybe it was because on bad days when her father wanted to drink heavily, he’d push her into the clothes closet in her bedroom and lock the door.

To sit in that darkness...the dankness...the lack of fresh air. Dev lost count of how many times she’d cried softly so she wouldn’t be heard. Because if her father did hear her, he’d come and rip the door open, bellowing down at her, telling her to stop crying. Big girls didn’t cry, he’d scream at her. Suck it up. Wipe those tears away. And he promised to come back in a little while—which was hours later—and let her out.

Dev felt herself begin to unravel, lose control, and she couldn’t do that. Sloan really didn’t know that much about her. And he’d probably lose respect for her. In the Marine Corps, Dev had tried so hard to keep it together. But her commanding officer was an alcoholic, too, and it was as if she’d stepped back into being a seven-year-old shoved into a small, dark, smelly closet. The only light leaking in was beneath the door and she’d stare at that light, willing herself to watch it, because it meant hope. Hope that her drunk father would eventually come and let her out of the closet. And God help her if she peed her pants because she couldn’t hold it any longer. Or if she got so thirsty she couldn’t cry any more tears. Those years were horrifying for Dev, and being in the military, she’d sought freedom from them.

Only she’d traded them for an alcoholic CO, Major Terrence Paddington, who had scared the hell out of her. He didn’t like or trust the women in his company. He didn’t care she was a highly trained dog handler who was good at what she did. He didn’t like women in combat, pure and simple. And he tried to keep her safe so that his blemished record wouldn’t look worse than it already did. No one wanted a woman to die in combat. That was a huge no-no. A black mark on her CO’s personnel jacket. And Dev had felt like she had been in that terrifying closet once again: trapped. Only with Major Paddington, he wanted to keep her imprisoned in that invisible closet for her entire deployment.

Dev began to see an overall pattern in her life: one of being crammed and hidden away by men. By the time Gordon had come along, she’d simply wanted to be out in nature, enjoying fresh air, the sun on her face, and doing her job tracking. But Gordon... Oh no, she could not cry! Dev’s fingers curved inward into her palm as she sat there, head tilted forward, her mouth compressed to stop the memories.

The memories came, anyway. But she could feel that invisible blanket sliding across her shoulder, warming her, protecting her, and she knew it came from Sloan. He sat there quietly and she felt no urgency to speak. Her throat tightened. A desperation surged through her like a clenched fist ramming up from her wildly beating heart, into her throat, past the forming lump, and leaping into her mouth. And then...

“I hated Gordon always watching me,” she began in a desperate tone. Dev kept her eyes shut, not wanting to see what lay in Sloan’s eyes. Just the sensation of that immaterial embrace of his, that sense of utter safety surrounding her, allowed the words to tear out of her, never heard by another human being until now. “I could... I felt...his eyes... His eyes were always on me. I swear to God, I could feel this hot, burning sensation on my back when he came in and found me. I felt his eyes following me and the feeling that came with it...” Dev shuddered, the words jamming up in her aching throat.

“I—I could feel him wanting me. It was dirty. It was...awful. It was sexual, and he scared me. I tried to deal with it. I told myself it was in my head, that I was imagining things, that is was me, not him. I tried to convince myself that it was me.” Her voice broke.

Dev felt the beaded coolness of the condensation on the outside of the wineglass beneath her fingertips. She focused on it because the emotions writhing within her threatened to overwhelm the dissolving control she had over them. “But it wasn’t me,” she said. She hung her head, chin against her chest, fingers tightening around the stem. “Three months went by and he would quietly come into a room where I was and come up behind me... God,” Dev whispered unsteadily, wiping her eyes and opening them, staring sightlessly and straight ahead. “He never announced himself. He would always find me when I was alone, in a back room, when no other people were around. He was stalking me. Waiting. I didn’t know why, except I felt so damned scared my brain would freeze.”

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