

Copyright © 2011 by Vanessa Gray Bartal

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Chapter 1

An idyllic Christmas in the country sounded like a good idea when Belle made the suggestion. Ethan Prescott had been curious about Montana since his boss first returned from a trip there a few years ago and married a cowboy who owned a massive ranch. He had visions of things he had only ever seen on television—sleigh rides, roaring fireplaces and singing Christmas carols around an upright piano while sipping hot cocoa. But sitting in an airport the size of a walnut was not part of that plan.

"Ethan, when are we going to go?"

Bringing his new girlfriend, Chrissy, had also seemed like a good idea. Now he wasn't so sure. In New York, she had seemed gung-ho to travel to Montana. Ethan had been surprised because Chrissy was a city girl, through and through. She was the type of girl who had her manicurist on speed dial for nail emergencies. But as soon as he had mentioned the possibility of Christmas in Montana, Chrissy had practically begged to come along. Ethan had been ecstatic. Beautiful, polished, and successful, she was everything he had dreamed he would find. He had no idea what she saw in him, a chatty secretary from Ohio, but he wasn't about to ruin his chances with her by remaining in neutral any longer.

"I've been trying to call the Kings, Chrissy, but I can't get a signal here," he explained, frowning at his useless cell phone.

"What kind of place doesn't have cell service?" Chrissy said, looking around with a sour expression.

_The kind of place in the middle of nowhere,_ Ethan thought, but didn't say it. After so many hours flying west, they were both exhausted. And, really, Chrissy's impatience was understandable. They were stuck in an airport so small there wasn't even a restaurant. Ethan had offered to raid a row of vending machines for some food, but Chrissy declared she would rather starve than eat chemicals and sodium from a machine. For that reason, Ethan hid the bag of neon orange cheese crackers he'd bought for himself, surreptitiously pulling a cracker from his bag every so often. He was starving and had no compunctions about eating anything at this point.

"What are we supposed to do?" Chrissy asked, sounding a little desperate. "We could die here."

She was exaggerating, but only slightly. Outside the airport, snow was everywhere. There were no hotels nearby, nor any restaurants, so it was a sure sign there were no rental car agencies, either. And even if Ethan could somehow miraculously procure a car, the King's ranch wasn't on any map. How was he supposed to find it by himself?

He couldn't understand why there wasn't someone there to meet them at the airport. His boss, Belle Landry King, was known to be a detailed perfectionist. If she said someone would pick them up from the airport, then someone would pick them up from the airport. But so far no one had, and Ethan was becoming more than a little worried. If it were just him, he would bunk down in the airport, survive on vending food, and wait for help to eventually arrive. But he had a new and very grumpy girlfriend to support. Chrissy needed proper food and rest, stat.

"I'll see if I can find a landline," Ethan volunteered.

"'Bout time," Chrissy snapped before jutting her lip in a determined-looking pout.

At times like these, Ethan always felt a little shallow because he knew if Chrissy was ugly, he would probably blow up at her and tell her she wasn't helping the situation by being grumpy. But instead he thought her pouty lip looked cute, like an angry little girl. So, instead of chastising her, he bent and kissed her forehead.

"I'm sorry things aren't turning out well," he said.

She softened slightly and reeled her lip in. "I know it's not your fault," she said. "I'm hungry and tired. I'm sure you are, too."

He smiled in agreement before turning to try and locate a phone. A few minutes later, he found one in the entryway of the airport between the outer and inner doors. Even though it wasn't exactly outside, it was still freezing in the entryway. Ethan's teeth chattered as he tried to make his newly numb fingers dial the correct numbers. He was thankful years of knowing Belle and Cam had prepared him for Montana weather. His bags were stuffed with warm clothes, but he hadn't put them on yet because New York had been almost balmy when he left, and he didn't want to swelter on the plane.

When a buzzing signal sounded in his ear, he double-checked the number for Belle's house. After assuring himself he had dialed correctly, he tried again, but the signal remained the same. He frowned, trying to determine what the signal meant. Was it a busy signal, or were the lines down? Seeing how much snow was outside the airport made him think the second option was more likely.

"Great, just great," he muttered. Now what was he to do? How could he go back inside and tell Chrissy they were stuck at the airport until further notice? Maybe it was disloyal to think it, but he was quickly becoming sorry he had brought Chrissy along. The stress of this trip could prove to be too much for their fledgling relationship. In New York they were always so busy they had barely been able to find time for dates. Ethan had simply wanted to get away with her and spend quality time. But not like this. This was miserable, and his inability to solve the situation wasn't winning him any points.

His steps were slow and measured as he plodded back to the bench where Chrissy sat. Her hopeful expression sent his heart plummeting even more.

"Did you get hold of them? Where are they? When are they coming? How soon can we leave here?" In her eagerness, the questions poured out of her and jumbled together. Ethan pretended to take his time sorting them while he tried to compose his thoughts.

"Well," he drawled, "I didn't..." His words trailed off while his attention was distracted by the arrival of a newcomer. Normally, he was a one-woman type of guy. He didn't cheat on his girlfriends, and he didn't allow his eye to roam. But those principals did nothing to stop his galvanized gaze from fastening on the woman who now stood before him. Not just because she was arrestingly beautiful, but because she was like a character from a movie— _Pocahontas,_ to be exact. He had never seen a Native American in real life, and now he was sure he was seeing a warrior princess come to life. His mouth opened, releasing a puff of air as he stared, dumbfounded. He expected her to speak some foreign tongue that he couldn't understand, but when she spoke the words were in English.

"Ethan Prescott." She said his name as a statement, shocking him further into speechlessness. "Come with me. I'm here to take you home."

When she turned to go, Ethan grabbed his bag and followed with no thought to the blond girl he had brought from New York.
Chapter 2

Thankfully Ethan remembered Chrissy a split second after he forgot her, and hopefully before she realized she had been forgotten. With a slight shake of his head, he grabbed her bags and waited for her to stand, but she didn't stand. She remained frozen to her seat, staring at the newcomer in dismay.

"Who is she?" Chrissy hissed.

"I have no idea," Ethan returned, also in a whisper. "But she's offering to get us out of here." _And she's lovely,_ he added to himself. Even now his eyes strayed to the woman whose stride didn't slow until she reached the doors. That's when she glanced back and realized there was no one behind her. With a sigh of impatience, she returned to Ethan and Chrissy, picked up their two remaining bags, and threw them over her shoulders like a pack mule.

"Coming?" she asked, giving Chrissy a pointed glance, as if she knew she was the reason for their delay.

"Who are you?" Chrissy blurted.

"I'm PJ," the girl said.

Chrissy looked to Ethan for an explanation, but he shrugged. In all the talk about the ranch, he had never heard of a PJ.

The woman, PJ, sighed again. "I work for the Kings sometimes. They had an emergency. They asked me to pick you up. Coming?" Wistfully, her eyes darted toward the exit again.

"What type of emergency?" Ethan asked worriedly. After so many years working for Belle, she felt like family. By now he had met all the Kings, and he liked them. He hated the thought of anything happening to them. He held out his hand for Chrissy, and she took it as she trooped beside him.

"Ivy went into labor," PJ threw over her shoulder.

"Isn't that a bit early?" Ethan asked. He wasn't an expert on such matters, but he seemed to remember hearing that Ivy's baby wasn't due until the spring.

PJ nodded. "Very early. She's been in the hospital, and the rest of the family went with her. They brought her home today and she's going to be on bed rest until the end of her pregnancy."

"Oh," Ethan said, frowning. He hoped their visit wouldn't cause any more undue stress on the Kings, although he knew Ivy and Coy had their own house and he and Chrissy wouldn't be staying there.

They followed PJ to a beat-up red pickup truck. She tossed their bags unceremoniously into the truck bed, and Ethan did the same, retaining his grip on the bag that held his laptop.

Chrissy bit her lip and stared worriedly at the truck. Ethan was almost positive it was her first time being near such a vehicle. Manhattan wasn't exactly a Mecca for pickups.

"Are we sure this is safe?" Chrissy whispered.

"We won't know until we try." He tried to say it cheerfully with a wink and a smile as he lifted Chrissy up. But inside he was equally uncertain. He was no expert on cars, but he was pretty sure the old Ford had been built sometime during the fifties. How could such a beast still function?

His doubts increased when PJ tried to crank the machine, only to growl in frustration when it coughed and sputtered before dying. Without a word to the truck's occupants, she grabbed a tool box from under the seat and hopped out of the cab. Ethan sat uncertainly in his seat for a moment, at war with himself. On the one hand, he was the man and this was Montana. Shouldn't he be the one to do something? On the other hand, he had only a passing acquaintance with automobile repair. Unless the oil needed checked or a tire needed changed, he would be over his head.

Nonetheless, he felt like a useless heel waiting in the car, so he hopped out and strode to the front of the truck where PJ had already popped the hood and was now bent.

"Anything I can do to help?" he asked.

PJ looked up at him in surprise. "It's just dust in the spark plug." She worked as she spoke and within a moment she had pulled out a spark plug. Ethan watched as she held it up to the light to inspect it.

"It must be hard to find parts for an antique," he said, giving the truck a loving pat.

A smile lit PJ's face. "It really is."

Movement in the truck caught Ethan's attention. Chrissy's face was a mask of horror as she watched PJ place the spark plug against her lips and blow. When she removed the plug, a line of grease ringed her mouth. PJ wiped it away with the back of her hand, reinstalled the plug, and slammed the hood.

"Where did you learn about engine repair?" Ethan asked.

"Trial and error," PJ said. She swiped her hands on a rag before dropping it in her toolbox and then turned toward the truck. Ethan waited until they were back inside the truck before he spoke again.

"Is that what you do for the Kings? Are you their mechanic?"

PJ shook her head. "Not since I was a kid."

"You were a mechanic when you were a kid?" This came from Chrissy whose tone was more derisive than curious.

PJ's answering smile was tender. "No, I was a tagalong with my dad who went to the ranch every few weeks on business." She didn't add that she had thought becoming an expert mechanic might get her into the King brothers' good graces. Back then, she had been a lonely tomboy, but she had also been discerning. She hadn't wanted to be friends with just anyone, but the Kings were good people and she had liked them. Their acceptance had been important to her.

Her silence made Ethan all the more curious. Who was this woman? Granted, she was very pretty in the exotic Indian princess sort of way he had first noted, but why else did he find her so intriguing? Chrissy was pretty, beautiful, even. What made PJ so captivating?

"The roads look pretty bad," Chrissy commented. Her hands were white where they clutched the edge of the seat.

"Do they?" PJ asked, sounding moderately bored. "They look pretty normal to me. Doesn't it snow in New York?"

"It snows, but the street crews clean it up as soon as it falls. Any significant snow on the roads would cause gridlock," Ethan explained.

"Gridlock," PJ repeated, and this time her smile was wry, though why Ethan should take note of her differing smiles was beyond him. She smiled a lot for a seemingly serious person. "Gridlock here would entail a whole bunch of cattle standing still, something that never happens."

Chrissy peered nervously out the windows. "I don't see any cows."

"They don't stand by the highway. The big ranches, like the Kings' ranch, are farther away from town."

Now Chrissy turned to look behind them. "That was a town?"

"That was the big city," PJ informed them.

"Where do you shop? Where do you eat?" Chrissy asked.

"I don't shop. I eat what I cook."

Chrissy blinked as if the words made no sense to her. "What do you do for fun?"

"I..." PJ started, then faded away. She tapped her window. "If you look to the left, you can just see the edge of Lewis and Clark National Forest."

"There are trees everywhere. How are those any different?"

"Because you go to jail if you cut them down," PJ said. Ethan laughed. Chrissy frowned at him. PJ's smile faded as she took in Chrissy's frown. "You must be tired; it's a long drive, why don't you nap?"

"I can't sleep in the middle," Chrissy grumbled. "I want to lean against the window."

Ethan slid her across his lap as he simultaneously scooted to her spot. She wadded up her coat and rested her head against the window, closing her eyes. Ethan stared through the front windshield, blinking to focus through the driving snow.

"You're a good driver," he commented softly.

PJ's hands tightened slightly on the wheel. "Thanks."

Their thighs brushed and Ethan jumped slightly and moved away, surprised by his awareness of her. On his other side, Chrissy was tightly pressed to his leg, but the feeling was nothing like touching PJ.

_Not good, Ethan,_ he thought. _Not good at all._ This trip was supposed to be about relaxing and getting closer to Chrissy, not meeting a stranger in Montana and having a fling. What was wrong with him? Just when things were finally going well in his personal life, why did he have to go and mess it up? Was he secretly bent on self-sabotage?

"How long have you worked for the Kings?" Ethan asked, trying desperately to focus on something mundane.

"Since I was seventeen," PJ replied.

"How long ago was that?" he asked.

She brushed a stray hair away from her face, trying vainly to tuck it in her ponytail. "Four years."

Twenty one. She was twenty one, eight years younger than his twenty nine, and one more reason not to be attracted to her. However, that knowledge did nothing to quell his curiosity about her. "Have you always lived in Montana?"

"Always. I've only left once." Her mouth turned grim and her hands tightened on the steering wheel.

Where had she gone? And why did the memory make her sad?

"You're Belle's secretary," she stated.

Now it was his turn to grimace slightly. "Executive assistant."

The wry smile was back on PJ's face. Ethan couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. "What's funny?"

"You're sensitive about your job because it's primarily a girl's job. I have the same problem in reverse."

"What do you do?" he asked.

"I'm a farrier."

"I have no idea what that is," he said.

"I trim horse's hooves and shoe them."

"That job still exists?"

"Horses still exist. Until they make a computer than can shoe a horse, I guess my profession is safe."

"How did you learn to be a farrier?" he asked. On his right, Chrissy began snoring softly.

"My dad taught me everything I know."

"Do you work with him?"

She shook her head. "He died."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

She nodded. He used the opportunity to stare at her. Tears shimmered in her obsidian eyes, lingering on her long lashes until she blinked them away. Her skin was the color of russet, and her hair was long and charcoal black.

"What does PJ stand for?" he asked.

"Not telling," she said, flashing him a grin before returning her attention to the road.

"A woman of mystery," he said. He heard the flirtation in his tone and his smile fled. _No flirting; she's a kid, and your girlfriend is sitting four inches away._

He wondered if PJ was having the same thought because she turned the conversation to Chrissy. "What does your girlfriend do?"

"She's a journalist."

"Really?" PJ asked. She peered around Ethan to glance at Chrissy. "She doesn't seem the type."

"What's the type?" Ethan asked.

"More serious, less...fluffy."

He chortled a laugh and cleared his throat. "I'm going to tell her you called her fluffy," he threatened.

PJ smiled, an altogether different smile than any he had seen before. This one looked amused. "Go ahead. I'm pretty sure I could take her in a fight."

"You've never seen her at a sale at Sak's," he said.

"I'm going to tell her you said that," she threatened.

"Please don't," he said. "You might be able to take her, but I'm not sure I could."

PJ punched his arm, hard. He winced and rubbed the spot. "Ouch. What was that for?"

"You insulted me."

"I did?" he asked. "How?"

"You said I could take your girlfriend in a fight."

"I was just repeating what you said," he said, exasperated.

"You're not supposed to. You made me sound manly."

"You're not manly," he assured her. "Crazy, maybe, but not manly." He rubbed his arm again.

"That's better," PJ said, satisfied.

"So, just for the record, I can say you're crazy, but I can't cast doubt on your femininity," he said.

"Pretty much," she agreed.

"You're crazy," he said.

She punched him again, harder this time.

He rubbed the spot again and shot her an indignant look. "What was that for?"

She shrugged. "Doesn't have to be for anything. Apparently I'm crazy."

Despite the pain in his aching arm, he was smiling at her. His smile grew when she turned to him and winked. On his other side, Chrissy snorted softly and his smile faded. _Yep, I'm in a whole lot of trouble here,_ was Ethan's final thought before the truck started to spin.
Chapter 3

Chrissy woke up screaming.

"We're going to die, we're going to die," she screeched over and over until Ethan finally covered his ears with his hands.

"We're fine," PJ said calmly. She deftly brought the truck back under control and they continued on their way. "We hit a patch of ice, but we're through it now. Good thing your suitcases are so heavy. I think the extra weight in the back of the truck is really helping keep us on the road."

Chrissy's mouth hung limply as she stared at PJ. "You're crazy," she whispered.

"A popular opinion lately," PJ said. "Do you want to listen to the radio? Say yes if you like country, because that's all we get out here."

"Shouldn't we be somewhere by now?" Chrissy asked, conveniently ignoring the radio question. "We've been driving forever."

"We've been driving an hour. We have another hour before we reach my house."

"Your house," Chrissy said. "You live with the Kings?"

PJ shook her head. "The Kings live another hour past me. It's too late to go there tonight. You'll stay with me, and I'll take you in the morning. I have to go there anyway, which is why they asked me to retrieve you."

"We're staying with you?" Chrissy asked. "Couldn't we get a hotel?"

"Sure, if you take the train to Billings. It's two hours away after you reach the station."

"I have entered the _Twilight Zone,_ " Chrissy said.

"Thanks for picking us up and keeping us tonight," Ethan said diplomatically. He realized, even if Chrissy didn't, that PJ was going out of her way for them. A four hour round trip to pick up strangers wasn't exactly anyone's idea of the perfect evening, especially not when the roads were so bad. And now she had to put them up at her house.

"I would do anything for the Kings," PJ said. "They're good people."

"How well do you know them?" Chrissy asked. PJ and Ethan both noted her change of attitude with surprise. Suddenly she sounded curious and cheerful.

"I've known them all my life," PJ said. "Josh and I were in school together. He's a year older but we weren't exactly friends. Coy and I used to spend a lot of time together before he met Ivy."

Ethan wondered if she knew her voice sounded wistful.

"Was he your boyfriend?" Chrissy asked.

Outside, it was dark so Ethan couldn't be sure, but he thought maybe PJ blushed. "No. We've only ever been friends. They took good care of me when my father died, offering me a job and references to help keep me going."

"And you've known Belle all your life, too," Ethan added. He knew their town was the size of a postage stamp.

PJ grinned. "Belle's five years older than me but, oh yeah, I know Belle. Everyone knows Belle." She was as notorious for her bulldog personality as she was for her unfortunate accidents. As one of the town's most successful citizens, she had been asked to give the invocation the previous year for Founder's Day. Unfortunately, her dress had accidentally become lodged in her underpants, and during her entire prayer she had flashed the congregation at large, causing the mayor and the minister to run up on the stage mid-prayer and intervene. PJ filled them in on the story.

"So that's why she and Cam weren't speaking when she came back to New York last spring," Ethan said, remembering how angry Belle had been with her husband.

"Apparently he closed his eyes as soon as she took the stage because he was nervous something bad was going to happen to her," PJ explained. "He missed the fact that she was practically naked until the screaming started."

"The screaming?" Chrissy asked.

"When the reverend tried to run up on the stage to stop the prayer, he fell off the edge and landed on a little girl. She was okay, but she had been holding a Founder's Day pennant, the kind with the pointy top."

"And she cut the reverend with it?" Ethan guessed.

PJ shook her head. "It missed the reverend and somehow caught the mayor when he ran over to help. The reverend had a concussion and the mayor needed ten stitches."

"No wonder Belle was so tight-lipped about that visit," Ethan mused. He had a hard time comparing the Belle from the story to his capable boss who terrified most people she encountered in New York. In Manhattan, the sound of her heels clicking in the foyer had been enough to send secretaries scurrying for cover. Ethan had his own brand of notoriety for having survived so many years as her assistant, but from the beginning he had realized something that no one else had; Belle had a soft heart. She was a good woman, and he liked her very much, loved her, even.

He had been assigned to her from the very beginning, ever since she ascended the corporate ladder and became a literary agent instead of a secretary. Although she was his boss, she was three years younger and Ethan sensed a vulnerability in her that had brought out his shielding nature. And after only a few weeks, he realized his first instincts had been right; not only did Belle have a hidden soft side, but she was incredibly innocent when it came to anything but business. She brought out Ethan's protective side, and he found himself running interference for her with men who didn't have good intentions. Right away he and Belle had shared a connection, although thankfully not in any romantic sense. Ethan had seen her as a sister, which was a good thing since she married Cam a year after she became Ethan's boss.

Though Ethan would never admit it, Cam was slightly terrifying. Their first meeting had been nerve-wracking as Cam sized him up through narrowed eyes, decided there was nothing between him and Belle, and deemed him worthy of approval. Ethan had almost wanted to sag in relief. After hearing what Belle's ex-boyfriend, Storm, had to say about his meeting with Cam, he hadn't been sure what to expect. But now he counted Cam as a friend. Though he and Belle were only in New York half the year, they always included Ethan in some of their social plans, making sure to see him outside of work a couple of times during their stay in Manhattan. That was why he had no reservations about spending Christmas at their house. After so many years, he was as close to Cam and Belle as he was to his own family in Ohio. Maybe more so because he couldn't remember the last time he was in Ohio.

Ethan must have been lost in his own thoughts for a long time because sooner than he would have expected, PJ spoke.

"Here we are," she announced. The truck slid off the road and into a narrow gravel driveway. Somehow she got the beast stopped before it slammed into the house. Chrissy had fallen asleep again, but the jarring motion woke her. She sat up, blinked sleepily at the house, and frowned.

"Someone actually lives here?" she asked.

Ethan winced at her rudeness, but PJ laughed. "Not just someone—me," she answered. She hopped out of the truck and began retrieving their bags from the bed. "Be careful, it's slippery out here."

As if to prove her point, Chrissy stepped out of the car and immediately fell on her backside before bursting into loud, angry tears. Ethan stretched his leg over her and gingerly set it on the ground, testing the ice. Holding on to the door handle, he bent to assess Chrissy.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No," she replied.

_Then why are you crying?_ he wanted to ask. "Come on," he said instead. Offering her his hands, he pulled her up and practically carried her to the house. When they reached the inside, he realized that while he had been assisting Chrissy, PJ had made three trips to carry all their bags inside.

"You should have let me get those," he said.

PJ shrugged. "You had your hands full."

Chrissy pulled away from Ethan and stood upright, surveying the interior of the house. It was small but clean. There weren't many personal objects lying around, but neither was there any dust or clutter. He crossed his fingers that Chrissy wouldn't complain again.

"Here is the guest room," PJ announced as she took two steps down the short hallway. "You can have this room," she looked at Chrissy. "You can sleep on the couch." She directed this toward Ethan.

"He can share my room," Chrissy offered.

"No, he can't," PJ replied. "He can have my room and I'll take the couch if that works out better."

"The couch is fine," Ethan said hastily. He had assumed that Chrissy would realize Montana values were much different than Manhattan values, but apparently not. He should have talked to her, told her what to expect. Now both women were looking at him and to his embarrassment, he found his cheeks heating with a blush.

"This is a very nice house," he commented to try and relieve some of the pressure. "You could fit four of my apartments in here."

"Your apartment must be the size of a pin," PJ commented.

"My apartment could fit twice on a pin," he said with a smile.

"Your apartment really is horrid, Ethan," Chrissy added. "I don't know why you won't move."

"I like where I live. It's close to work, and I don't want to hunt." Apartment hunting in Manhattan was a stressful event, practically a fulltime job on its own.

PJ smiled. "Out here when we refer to hunting, we're usually talking about animals."

Ethan smiled. "In New York, we're referring to apartments or sales."

"Both of which I'm extremely good at," Chrissy announced proudly.

"What a coincidence, I'm good at hunting, too," PJ said.

Chrissy's smile slipped. "You actually hunt animals?"

PJ nodded, not commenting further. She would never admit that even though she was good at hunting, she didn't actually enjoy it. Bringing down an elk a year was an important part of supplementing her meager income. Without hunting and fishing, she would probably exist on canned vegetables. One look at the two city slickers in their fancy clothes, and she knew they would never understand the necessities of country living, so why bother to try? Still, for some reason it bothered her that the man should think she enjoyed killing for pleasure.

"I only kill what I eat," she added.

"Maybe I could go with you sometime while I'm here," Ethan suggested. "I haven't been hunting since I was a kid."

PJ stopped short and looked at him in surprise. "You hunt?"

"I used to. I enjoyed it."

"We could probably scare up some birds," PJ said. "Otherwise the only season open right now is for Mountain Lions, but they're no good for eating."

Chrissy laughed. "You're kidding, right? People don't actually hunt lions here, do they?"

"People hunt everything here," PJ replied. "Hunting is a big tourist industry in Montana, especially big game. Everyone wants to bring down a bear or lion. Personally, I don't see the excitement in hunting an animal for sport unless the animal is armed, too."

"Okay," Chrissy drawled. Her tone made it clear she couldn't care less. "I'm going to bed now." Without another word, she turned and headed toward the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her.

Ethan and PJ stood staring at the door.

"Does she have some sort of sleeping disorder?" PJ whispered.

Ethan checked his watch. "It's midnight in New York, and we've had a long day with lots of flying."

"You don't look tired," PJ noted.

"I keep odd hours."

She bit her lip and gave an uncertain look toward the kitchen. "Want some cocoa?"

"Sure." He followed her down the short hallway to the kitchen and watched while she prepared cocoa from scratch using whole milk and chocolate.

"This is what I thought Montana would be like," he commented. "Sitting around relaxing while the weather swirls outside, drinking cocoa and making small talk."

"I'm sorry you've had such a rough beginning. I'm sure as soon as you get to the Kings tomorrow things will be better," she said.

"I'm not complaining," he said. He crossed his arms and enjoyed the view. She was graceful in her movements, even something as mundane as stirring the cocoa was compelling to watch. She was tall and slender; observing her was almost like watching a ballerina perform. "Do you dance?" he blurted.

"Only when someone asks." She tossed him a smile over her shoulder. "Are you asking?"

He smiled in return, trying to block the sudden desire she had awakened. What if they danced in the middle of her kitchen? There was no music, but he was still tempted to try. "I have two left feet," he told her. "But that wasn't exactly what I was talking about. I wondered if you had ever studied ballet."

She laughed for a long minute before realizing he was serious. "I thought you were joking. No, I've never studied dance. My dad raised me by himself; there was nothing girly about my upbringing."

Which made it all the more amazing that she had turned out so feminine. More than just her pretty looks and graceful way of moving, there was something undeniably soft and womanly about her. _She would be a good mom,_ he thought, clamping down on the notion before it could take root and cause him more confusion.

"Sounds like your dad was a good man," he commented as she poured the cocoa and set it before him.

"He was," she replied, sitting down beside him and cupping her mug between her hands. "He was the best—a rugged sort of man, but with a hidden tender side he reserved for me. It was tough on him, raising a girl alone. But he did his best."

"Where did you go?" he asked, startling her out of her memories.

"What?"

"You said you went away once. Where did you go?"

"After he died, the state sent me to live on the reservation with my mother in Oklahoma. I stayed two weeks before running away."

He sensed the topic of her mother was a painful one that she didn't want to discuss. "Then what happened? You said you were only seventeen. What did you do?"

"I lived here alone. I was seventeen and a half. Social services figured I was better off staying put for a few months instead of being whisked away to foster care. I finished school and worked in the evenings and on weekends."

"I've never known social services to bend the rules. Things must be different out here."

She refrained from telling him the truth—that social services hadn't bent the rules for her; they had bent them for Cam King. Cam had vouched for her, calling everyone from the local to the state level to convince them to leave her alone. The Kings had offered to take her in, but upon realizing how much she wanted to stay in her own home, Cam had instead offered to be her guardian in absentia until she turned eighteen. Once a week he reported to the state on her wellbeing, making sure she was attending school and eating properly. She had so badly wanted to make it on her own that first year, but it was impossible; she was in school too often during work hours. Once again, the Kings had kept her afloat, paying her mortgage in full and providing her with a trust fund that would see to her care.

As soon as she graduated and began working full time, she began paying them back. Cam had tried to protest, saying she owed them nothing, but PJ had burst into tears until he uncomfortably relented and practically fled the room. Last year she had repaid the money they had spent on her food, and now she only paid them a small amount of rent for her house. Cam had set up a land contract, so she was actually buying the property from him, which gave her a satisfactory feeling of accomplishment.

"What about you? What's your story?" she asked, realizing she had spent much of the evening talking about herself. She realized something else, too. "I know Belle told me your name, but I'm afraid I've forgotten it. Could you remind me?"

"Ethan," he said. "Ethan Prescott, and my story is boring. I'm from a small town in Ohio. At least, I used to think it was a small town until I arrived here. Now it looks like a metropolis in comparison. After college, I went to the big city to make a name for myself." _And wound up a secretary,_ he thought bitterly. Sometimes it was better not to examine his life too closely.

"Do you have parents? Siblings? Grandparents?"

"I have everything. My family all lives in the same town. I'm a middle kid, sandwiched between two girls. My parents are still alive and still together, and both sets of their parents are still alive, too."

PJ smiled. "You're lucky; that sounds nice. You must miss them."

He opened his mouth to reply and no sound came out. Suddenly he did miss them, very much. When was the last time he saw them?

PJ, sensing his sudden mood shift, searched around for a new topic. "Was it culture shock to go from Ohio to New York?"

"Not really," he replied. "But I've been there so long, it's hard to remember."

"How long have you been there?"

"Since I was twenty two."

"And how old are you now?"

"Almost thirty," he said.

She whistled softly. "You're practically a grandpa."

He laughed. "Don't tease the elderly, it's not nice." His index finger gave the back of her hand a light, admonishing tap, and they froze, caught off guard by the sudden current of electricity bouncing between them. As casually as he could manage, he shifted away, withdrawing his hand while she raised her mug to her lips and took a sip.

"I should go to bed," she said when she set the mug down.

"Me, too," he agreed, but neither made a move. Instead they started a new topic of conversation and talked for the next two hours until he stumbled toward the couch, exhausted and half asleep.
Chapter 4

PJ couldn't sleep. Usually she was one of those people who put in a hard day of work, fell into bed exhausted, and slept well all night. Rarely had she ever suffered insomnia. But now her thoughts were in a whirl, tormenting her with confusion.

Who was Ethan Prescott?

Oh, she knew he was Belle's secretary, but who was he to her? No one. And that was what made her reaction to him all the more baffling. He was a stranger. He had a girlfriend. He wasn't her type. He lived in New York. He was old. Those were all valid reasons why she should have nothing to do with him, but, despite all that head knowledge, she was intensely attracted to him and had been since the second he looked up at her in the airport.

His dark brown eyes were large and expressive, filled with a sparkle of humor and intelligence. He was tall, taller than her, well-dressed, and cultured. His hair was a dark chestnut color and artfully arranged so it skimmed his brows in the front, a sharp contrast to most of the cowboys she knew who constantly had a sweat ring around their heads from their Stetsons. Her second reaction after her initial attraction had been defensiveness. Surely someone who looked so refined would have to be a snob; his girlfriend certainly was. But Ethan wasn't a snob. He seemed to see their ordeal as an adventure, and PJ liked that. She enjoyed optimism. Life was hard enough without bad attitudes making everything worse. Ethan didn't have a bad attitude. He was pleasant and kind, with a hint of roguishness behind his gentle exterior. He had to be a little bit of a rogue; why else would he be flirting with her when his girlfriend was right next to him? And he had been flirting, hadn't he? PJ thought so, but she didn't have much experience with male/female relationships outside of friendship. Most of the men she knew considered her to be one of the guys. Ethan was the first man in a long time who looked at her like she was a woman and not a grease monkey.

And he was definitely the first man PJ had looked at in a long time. Eons ago when she was a kid, she'd had a huge crush on Coy King. All the girls had liked Coy. PJ had always felt special because he took her riding when she went to the ranch with her father. One day when she was sixteen, he had helped her down off her horse and for the first time she thought he might kiss her. But he hadn't. Instead, he had let her down gently and told her he wasn't interested.

Far from being offended, PJ had been gratified by his easy letdown. _Save your kisses for someone who deserves them,_ he had said, and she had taken those words to heart that day. For some reason his advice had meant more to her than anything she had ever heard about dating, maybe because it came from someone she adored and respected, but she really thought about his words as she and her father drove home that day.

All around her, girls were dying to give themselves away. A late bloomer, PJ had only recently become interested in boys. Coy had been her first crush. But she didn't want to be like the other girls; she didn't want to give herself to someone unworthy who didn't care about her. She wanted to love someone who would love her in return, someone who would treat her well and look at her the way she had seen Coy look at Ivy.

For a few months, she had turned the words over in her mind, deciding to be careful with her heart and not hand it to some boy on a platter because she was desperate for love. But then her father had died. Her life was turned upside down, and everything except survival was pushed to the back burner for PJ. Who had time to date when there were bills to be paid?

Enter Ethan Prescott.

Why was it that she worked with cowboys and ranch hands on a daily basis and gave none of them more than a passing glance, yet a fancy stranger with a girlfriend shows up and she's suddenly a sixteen-year-old with a crush again?

Eventually she fell into a fitful slumber, tossing and turning until dawn. She woke, straining to hear any sounds in the house, but there were none. Her guests were still asleep. PJ couldn't lie there anymore, but neither did she want to wake Ethan or his obnoxious girlfriend. Instead, she bypassed the main portion of the house and went outside to the garage to begin work. There was nothing like hard work to make a girl forget her troubles. Or so she thought.

The sound of metal on metal woke Ethan from a peaceful slumber. Despite the fact that he was folded like a pretzel on PJ's too-small couch, he had slept comfortably and dreamed vividly. Of PJ. He didn't remember specifics from the dream except that one of them had included a sleigh ride. Why he should dream about a stranger he had just met was beyond him.

The hammering sound continued, reminding Ethan of what had woken him in the first place. Darkness still hovered outside, but a quick glance at his watch told him it was seven New York time. Usually he woke at six, but he was feeling jetlagged and exhausted from his late night with PJ. He tiptoed to Chrissy's door and pressed his ear to it, listening, but all was quiet within. Not that he actually thought the hammering sound was coming from her room. He was relieved to find she was getting some much needed rest. Hopefully her mood would be better after she woke up.

Having assured himself that Chrissy was still sleeping, he followed the hammering sound to the attached garage. Last night he had absently noted that the garage was the size of the house, and this morning he saw why. Far from being a container for cars, this garage was a work zone, complete with tools he didn't recognize, metal bars, a giant anvil, and a furnace.

The furnace was burning brightly, making the room toasty warm despite the fact that it was below freezing outside. PJ had her back to him, wearing a tank top, pair of jeans, and leather apron. In her hand she held a pair of tongs as she extricated something from the fire. Whatever it was, it was glowing bright red. Ethan stood back, conflicted. He didn't want to skulk in the shadows, watching without a sound, but to move or make his presence known might alarm her and he didn't want to risk having her drop the molten metal onto her foot.

He needn't have worried, though. She set the metal on the anvil and looked up at him with a welcoming smile before picking up her hammer to pound. Taking her smile as an invitation, he walked over to where she stood to get a closer look. He watched, captivated, as she expertly pounded the straight piece of metal into a heart-shaped horseshoe.

"Why the heart shape?" he asked when she was finished working.

"The horse in question has laminitis. Sometimes these shoes can help. I thought I would try before taking more drastic measures."

He nodded as if any of what she had just said made sense to him. "So you're a blacksmith."

"I'm a farrier. Farriers are blacksmiths; it's part of the trade. Never know when you're going to have to make a shoe on the fly."

He tapped the waist-high anvil. "I've only seen these in cartoons."

"They're pretty much the same in real life except if a coyote drops one on your head, you don't walk away."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said seriously. He was quiet again while she picked up the hammer and pounded nail holes in the shoe. Watching her work was a fascination in itself. Except for the gas-powered furnace, he was glimpsing a craft that hadn't changed much in hundreds of years. Like everything she did, her movements were graceful, almost poetic in their economy. She only moved as much as necessary, twisting her back to the fire in order to avoid taking steps. The routine was so practiced and fluid it was like watching a dance—tongs into the fire, tongs out of the fire, pound the metal and repeat. Over and over she performed the little ritual until she was satisfied with the result. By that time, she had developed a sheen of sweat on her shoulders and arms from the exertion and Ethan couldn't look away. Watching her was becoming like a drug to him.

She set down her hammer, turned off the burner and reached for her apron. "I think that's enough work for this morning." When she began to tug at the knot on her apron, Ethan practically tripped over himself in his eagerness to help.

His hands shook like a teenager as he tried to untangle the knot and he was glad her back was to him so she couldn't see. Finally, the knot gave way and Ethan lifted the apron over her head and tossed it onto the workbench. And then they just stood there, frozen as tension bounced between them. At first they were self-conscious, each wondering if the other was somehow aware of what the other was feeling. Then they realized they were both feeling the same thing. Ethan's fingertips lightly brushed her waist, and she sucked in a breath.

"I'm a decade too old for you," he whispered. "I live in New York. I have a girlfriend."

PJ swallowed and squinched up her eyes. Her mind told her to run, far and fast. But she didn't. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him, pressing her palms flat on his chest. "I know," she whispered. He looked at her, trying to search her face. Was he trying to give her another out? But PJ didn't want an out; she wanted Ethan. Alarming as the thought was, she didn't allow herself to dwell on it. If he wasn't going to make a move, then it was up to her.

Ethan watched, mesmerized, as her hands slid up to his shoulders. She stood on her toes and tipped her face up, waiting, her eyes closed. All rational or protective thoughts fled when he took in her pose. He had the sense that PJ wasn't one to make herself vulnerable, yet here she stood in his arms, awaiting acceptance or rejection. He cinched her slightly closer and lowered his head when the handle on the door started to turn, sending them both into a panic.

PJ jumped away from him and spun toward her workbench, staring at the now cold furnace. Ethan leaned casually against the bench and faced the door, his arms crossed over his chest, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

Chrissy stepped into the room, frowning, but Ethan thought her expression had more to do with distaste than suspicion. "Are we leaving soon?" she asked.

"I just need to grab a shower," PJ said. She fled the garage, practically sprinting in her haste to get away.

Chrissy watched her go before turning back to Ethan. "She's weird."

Ethan remained mute. He was afraid if he tried to disagree his defensive tone would give him away. How had he gotten himself in this awkward situation? It wasn't as if he had never cheated on a girlfriend before, but then he had been young and stupid. The last couple of years, he had matured, or so he thought. Not only had he started looking for a potential wife, but he had started acting like a potential husband, erasing all of his immature bad behavior.

And now this. Was he simply a bad person? All signs were pointing that way. Now he was feeling as anxious as Chrissy was to get to the King's. What he needed was space to clear his head. The ranch was large. Even if PJ came to do work, Ethan probably wouldn't see her. He simply had to get through this morning and the madness would be over.
Chapter 5

In her bedroom, PJ was having similar panicked thoughts. For so many years after Coy's brotherly pep talk, she had guarded her heart, saying no to the occasional man who asked her out because he wasn't her ideal. She had waited for Mr. Right, and now somehow she had allowed herself to become attached to a handsome stranger, and not just any stranger—a fancy one from New York, with a girlfriend to boot. Work was the distraction she needed, and there was plenty of work to be done at the King's ranch.

By the time she finished a quick shower, Ethan and the girl were packed and ready to go, a sure sign that they were all anxious to leave.

"Anyone want breakfast?" PJ asked.

"No," Ethan and the girl answered in unison.

"Then let's go," she said. Ethan was trying hard not to stare at her as she tried not to stare at him. When their eyes happened to meet, they immediately turned away, in search of reprieve. PJ would have sprinted to the truck if not for the ice that slicked her driveway. Instead she walked cautiously, calling a warning to the couple behind her.

The girl was wearing predictably fashionable high-heeled shoes, totally inadequate protection from Montana weather. PJ rolled her eyes, glad she was facing front and they couldn't see. It wasn't as if Montana winters were a big secret from the rest of the country. How could someone possibly come so ill prepared? Then she felt guilty for her negative thoughts about the girl. Maybe it was possible that her blazing attraction to Ethan had biased her against the pretty blond. Yesterday had been a harrowing day for her. Maybe she wasn't as obnoxious as PJ remembered.

"Ethan, are we sure we couldn't hire a taxi to take us? I'm not sure I trust this hunk of junk to get us there," the woman said as she surveyed PJ's truck with a grimace of disgust.

PJ opened her mouth to answer, but Ethan intervened, which was a good thing because PJ didn't trust herself to be nice. The truck had been her father's, and she was protective of it.

"There are no taxis out here, Chrissy, and the truck works great. You're forgetting we're riding with a mechanic."

"I'm not forgetting," the girl, Chrissy, said, her tone filled with disapproval and disgust.

Chrissy. What kind of a name was Chrissy? Fluffy, that's what.

"At least let me sit by the window again," Chrissy demanded. "I'll get carsick if I have to sit in the middle again."

"Fine," Ethan agreed. He vaulted into the seat and put a hand down to help Chrissy.

PJ settled in the driver's seat, started the truck, and backed out. Within a couple of minutes, Chrissy was asleep and snoring softly. PJ glanced at Ethan who was making a concerted effort to stare straight ahead.

"Are we sure she doesn't have mono?" PJ whispered. Ethan chuckled, cutting some of the thick tension in the vehicle. PJ smiled. Some of the crushing weight shifted off her chest. "Look, Ethan, about earlier," she whispered, but he cut her off.

"Don't, PJ. Let's just let it go. You're a very attractive woman, but it shouldn't have happened. It was a moment out of time, and it's best if we forget about it."

PJ stared through the windshield in dismay. Her, attractive? Ethan, beautiful specimen that he was, found her attractive? She wasn't used to feeling pretty, but his words had made her feel that way. PJ thought men were attracted to her for different reasons than her looks. She didn't fool herself that people were able to see beneath her ponytail and jeans to the woman beneath. Usually she was either covered in grease or soot or both. The last man who asked her out had done so because she overhauled his transmission for free. She knew because he told her before offering to take her to a tractor pull, as if he thought her perfect romantic evening included John Deere.

"Have you ever taken a woman to a tractor pull, Ethan?" she blurted.

"No," he drawled, clearly startled by her random question.

"I didn't think so," she said. Maybe that explained her instant and powerful attraction to him. Maybe it was because he was different. Didn't someone say that familiarity breeds contempt? In her case it was certainly true. What she felt for the handful of cowboys she knew bordered on contempt, at least when it came to the possibility of dating them. She didn't want a cowboy; she wanted a cultured gentleman. Someone like Ethan, but not Ethan, of course, because he was off limits. Maybe that had been another factor in her attraction. PJ had always possessed a rebellious streak. Maybe it was because she had been looking after herself for so many years, but she was independent and didn't like to be told what she couldn't do. Ethan, with his many differences, had presented a challenge. Yes, there were many reasons why she was attracted to Ethan, but none of them was compelling enough to overcome common sense.

A flirtation might prove fun if she was the type of girl who could do such a thing, but she wasn't. She was a steady, serious person. Even though she was only twenty one, she had forever on her mind, and Ethan wasn't a forever kind of guy. He wasn't a keeper. All those years ago, PJ had promised herself that she would only settle for Mr. Right. Ethan wasn't him, and she wouldn't allow him to throw her off course.

All her pretty thoughts flew out the window, though, when they turned down the lane for the Flying K ranch. Ethan rested his hand on her thigh and turned to look deeply into her eyes.

"Thank you for all you've done for us, PJ. I really appreciate it, and I won't ever forget you. Maybe if things had been different, if we had more time, if this wasn't goodbye...Well, the point is I'm grateful, and I've thoroughly enjoyed meeting you." He flashed her a smile, his full red lips parting to reveal perfectly white teeth, and PJ felt her stomach turn a somersault.

"Oh, dear," she whispered as she brought the truck to a stop. He thought he was gaining distance from her, but she had news for him. "I'm not going away, Ethan. I've been invited to stay."

Ethan's mouth dropped and something like panic filled his eyes as Chrissy sat up with a jaw-cracking yawn. "Finally," she said. Then she opened the door, hopped down from the truck, and promptly fell on her behind before once again bursting into loud, angry tears.

It took a few minutes for Ethan to quiet the howling Chrissy. PJ used that time to gather some bags from the back of the truck and look around at the quiet ranch. The silence was unnerving. Such a large spread was always bustling with noise and activity, but today she could almost hear the pine needles dropping from the trees. Her heart speed increased and her stomach filled with dread. Was Ivy sicker than they realized? Had something worse happened? What else could account for such deadly stillness?

Once again Ethan had to practically carry Chrissy up the walk as she tried to balance on her stilts. As they drew closer to the front porch, PJ noted Josh sitting on the front porch, his wife, Sam, rolled in a quilt and tucked into his lap. Though Josh was the closest brother to PJ in age, they had never been friends. Truth be told, she hadn't liked him much growing up. He had been as cold and unfeeling as a robot until he married his pretty little wife, Sam. Either Josh had been hiding his humanity all along, or Sam had found a way to bestow some because now Josh was almost as friendly as his brothers, but today he didn't smile when he saw PJ ascend the steps, Ethan and Chrissy in tow.

"Josh," PJ whispered, noting that Sam was asleep. "What's going on?" Why was it so quiet and why wasn't he working? The King brothers had a notorious work ethic, especially Josh.

"The women are sick," Josh whispered. He drew Sam tighter and gave Ethan a narrow-eyed glance before turning back to PJ. "I'm glad you're here, PJ. My brothers and I are overwhelmed trying to care for them. They've all caught some virus, and they think that's what triggered Ivy's labor, although she's doing better now." His gaze moved to Ethan once again. "Cam will be glad to see you. Belle is, uh, not an easy patient."

Ethan smiled. He could only imagine. His amusement also included Josh who still seemed to harbor some jealousy, even though he and Sam had been married for two years now. Ethan had been attracted to her when he first met her as Belle's Montana secretary, but after meeting her in person and realizing she and Josh had something going, he had backed off. Apparently Josh had a long memory when it came to his wife, however, and was still wary. He was just getting ready to introduce Chrissy when she spoke.

"Do you have any masks?"

Josh looked at PJ for an explanation, and he learned more than he asked when she rolled her eyes. PJ was easygoing. Her obvious dislike of the girl spoke volumes.

"Excuse me?" Josh asked.

"You know, like doctor's offices give out when there's an epidemic. A mask." She traced her finger around her mouth to indicate what a mask should look like.

"Uh..." Josh started, looking to Ethan for help.

"They don't have any masks, Chrissy," he said with barely controlled patience. His first thought had been getting inside to see what could be done to help Belle. He hadn't given a thought to protecting himself from whatever was going around. All of the brothers were still healthy—the virus couldn't be that contagious. It wasn't the plague, after all.

"I'm sorry I can't show you to your rooms," Josh whispered. "PJ, could you..." he let the request trail off.

"I would be happy to show her where she can go," PJ said.

Josh coughed and nodded, pressing a kiss to his sleeping wife's head to try and hide his smile.

"Can I get you anything?" PJ asked before leading her charges inside.

Josh shook his head. "Sam was burning up with fever and wanted to come outside. We'll just sit here until she wakes up. Thanks, PJ."

PJ nodded, leading the way into the large farmhouse. She noticed that Chrissy had nothing disparaging to say about _this_ house. Probably because it was technically a mansion with three suites and a few bedrooms in addition to a den, living room, and kitchen the size of Rhode Island. But everyone referred to it as a farmhouse because the Kings were unpretentious and would have been uncomfortable with the imagery a mansion evoked. And, truly, with four large sons, the house had probably felt cozy growing up. Even now Cam and Belle and Josh and Sam shared the space with room to spare for guests.

First she led Chrissy to the third suite. It was smaller than the two used by Cam and Belle and Josh and Sam, but still had an attached bathroom. "This is your room," PJ said, indicating the room with a sweep of her hand. Chrissy stepped inside and turned in a circle, taking in the pretty room. Cynically, PJ wondered if she was searching for something to complain about.

"Do you think they have any disinfectant spray?" Chrissy asked.

"Check the bathroom," PJ said, pointing to the closed door at the opposite end of the room. "Take your time." She stepped out of the room, followed by Ethan, and closed the door emphatically behind them. The fact that Chrissy wasn't her guest anymore and therefore didn't require forced politeness was heartening, and she smiled.

Ethan watched PJ smile as they stepped out of the room, and wondered if she felt relieved to be away from Chrissy. He knew he did, and the realization made him feel guilty. Chrissy had occasionally shown flashes of temper or selfishness in New York, but so did everyone else he knew and so she had blended in. Had he been so dazzled by her looks and career success that he overlooked all her flaws? He hated to think himself as being so shallow, but it was as if this trip to Montana was shining a light on his life; he wasn't at all sure he liked what he saw.

The people here reminded him of his family in Ohio. Maybe that was why he and Belle got along so well; they were kindred spirits. How had he gotten so far from his roots that the corporate backstabbing and serial dating of Manhattan became acceptable to him?

They reached Belle and Cam's suite and PJ raised her hand to knock.

"Come in," Belle and Cam called together, although both their voices were strained. PJ opened the door and led the way inside. She had never been inside this room, the largest of all the rooms in the house. Belle had good taste in clothes, so PJ had expected her room to be equally as fashionable, but her gaze was immediately drawn to the fireplace and a large painting of a red tree sloth and brown bear. Except on closer inspection, she realized the sloth and bear were people, and not just any people, but Belle and Cam. Granted, she was naïve about art. Maybe the horrid painting was some type of modern art that was fashionable in New York. But when Ethan looked at the painting and laughed, PJ thought maybe it was as bad as she thought it was.

"Ethan, you've got to help me," Belle said desperately. "He's holding me prisoner here. He won't let me work."

"Ethan, I'm so glad you're here," Cam said with equal desperation. He sank wearily into the chair at the side of the bed and wiped his stubbled face. In all the years PJ had known Cam, she had never seen him look so unsettled.

"What's the problem, Belle?" Ethan asked.

"What's the problem?" she croaked. "Look?" She twisted on the bed, revealing the bungee cords that held her in place. "He won't let me up."

"Woman, I told you I was going to hogtie you if you didn't stop working," Cam said.

"I have to get the Jones contract out," Belle said, twisting frantically.

"Belle, I already sent the Jones contract," Ethan said. His worried glance slid to Cam.

"She's delirious," Cam said, winding his finger around his ear in a "she's crazy" gesture. "I can't get the fever to come down, and I couldn't get her to sit still or stay in bed." He looked exhausted. PJ wondered when he had last slept.

Belle lay whimpering pathetically, her eyes darting frantically for escape.

"All right, Belle, I'm here to help you work," Ethan said soothingly. He perched on the edge of the bed. "Tell me what needs to be done, and I'll do it."

Immediately, Belle relaxed. She blinked her fever-bright eyes a couple of times as she tried to focus on Ethan. After watching her lick her cracked, dry lips, PJ retrieved a glass of water and straw for her. When she returned to the room, Belle was making a list of nonsensical directions while Ethan studiously wrote them on a pad of paper. After finishing her list, she closed her eyes and swiftly fell asleep.

Cam stood shakily to his feet and backed out of the room, PJ and Ethan in his wake.

"Thanks," he whispered. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the door.

"Get some sleep, Cam," PJ whispered. "You look done in."

"I don't want to leave her," Cam whispered.

"I'll stay," Ethan volunteered. "Go rest."

Cam nodded wearily. He lurched away from the door and looked at PJ. "You might want to check Layla and Cade. He's doing his best to keep the twins from their mom, but I bet he could use a hand."

PJ nodded, her face filling with delight. She loved Layla and Cade's one year old twins. They were an energetic handful, but they made her laugh and filled up a space inside her she hadn't realized existed until she held the babies for the first time. Since then, she never left the ranch without stopping by for some cuddle time with the twins. After making sure Cam stumbled safely to the couch, she bounded out of the house and sprinted across the large yard to Cade and Layla's house.

It was much smaller than the main house, and also much newer. The doorways were noticeably larger to allow room for Cade's wheelchair. All the counters were at waist height, and the door handles were the easy-open kind for the same reason. The layout was simple and flowing, which made it a good space not only for a person confined to a wheelchair, but also for raising kids. The babies could be seen or heard from almost any room in the house.

She knocked on the door and was greeted by the same weary tone that had been in Cam's voice, only this time it was in Cade's. PJ stepped inside and saw Cade slumped in his wheelchair while his children ran in frenzied circles around him. When he turned to her, she could swear she saw tears in his eyes.

"My prayers have been answered," he muttered. "Layla's horribly ill, and I can't take care of her and them at the same time because I'm trying to keep them away from her. I haven't slept in two days, and I really think they might be plotting some type of coup."

PJ chuckled at the impassioned tone in his voice, glad to be of service to this family who had done so much for her. "I'll check on Layla, and then I'll take the kids so you can both have a break."

"Do you need a kidney, PJ? Because I've got two, and I'd be happy to give you one. Or anything else, for that matter. I can never pay you back for this."

She waved away his effusive gratitude as she walked down the hall. When she poked her head in Layla's room, she found her tossing and turning in her bed, crying copious amounts of tears.

"Layla," she said tenderly, creeping toward the bed.

Layla rolled over and looked up, startled and dazed. "PJ?"

PJ reached out and clasped Layla's hand. It felt hot and cold, all at the same time. "What can I do for you?"

"The babies," Layla muttered before a coughing fit overtook her. "I haven't seen the babies in two days, and Cade is exhausted..." She broke off and began crying again.

"I'm here to take care of the babies, and I'll make sure Cade gets some sleep. It's going to be okay."

"Are they sick? Do they have what I have?"

"They're perfectly healthy if the way they were terrorizing their father is any indication," PJ said.

Layla smiled and swiped at her eyes. "I've been so worried, but too sick to check on them, and I miss them." She sniffled again.

"You'll be feeling better in no time. The babies and I are going to go have some fun. You know how much I love them, so don't worry. Just get some rest. I bet by tomorrow you'll be feeling almost normal again."

Layla nodded, her eyes already closing with sleep before PJ backed out of the room and closed the door. She made her way back to the living room where Cade appeared to have slumped even farther into his chair. He watched quietly while PJ bundled the twins into their coats and picked both of them up together, cuddling one under each arm.

"Give your Daddy goodbye kisses," she commanded as the twins lurched toward Cade and pressed their chubby faces against his.

"I love you guys," Cade said. Turning to PJ he reminded her once more that she could have his kidney if she ever needed it.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said easily. "Get some rest and don't worry about the babies."

"What babies?" he muttered before falling asleep sitting up in his chair.
Chapter 6

As soon as PJ stepped out of Cade and Layla's house, she realized she had no idea where to go. The weather was freezing, so playing outside wasn't an option. The barns were heated, but also filled with manure and all manner of gear and tools. She scanned the horizon, looking for anything relevant. Besides the barns, there was the dorm that housed the ranch hands, Coy and Ivy's house, and the main house.

Coy and Ivy's house was out of the question because Ivy needed her rest as much or more than anyone. In fact, PJ made a mental note to check on them as soon as possible to see how they were faring. That left only the main house and she realized it had been the best option all along. Even though it was filled with sick people, they were contained in their rooms, far from the living room where she would keep the children.

The children, who had always been little bundles of energy, were both squirming for release by the time she reached the main house. She set them down and quickly realized her mistake—not only was Cam asleep on the couch in the living room, but there were no doors on either end of the large room. Even if they could stay without waking Cam, PJ would spend her time running from end to end, chasing the kids and retrieving them from other rooms. Instead she quickly scooped them up again and jogged down the hallway before their squeals of protest could wake Cam.

She closed the duo in the den, thankful for the sturdy wooden door whose handle was too tall for chubby baby fingers to reach. She had the feeling she was about to be exhausted, and she was correct. The babies were like perpetual motion machines, whirling dervishes who never stopped moving. The wall opposite the door was lined top to bottom with books, and within seconds the kids began removing every book from the bottom two shelves. PJ allowed them to do it because it kept them occupied for five full minutes and because it was easier to pick up the books than it was to try and keep the kids away from them.

Throughout the afternoon PJ developed a babysitting philosophy—do whatever works. If they wanted to eat lunch sitting under the table instead of trying to balance on chairs that were too big, then that's what they did. If the water in the sink splashed all over the floor then that was fine, too, because it kept their attention for twenty minutes and only took two to clean up. If rolling them in a blanket and dragging them all over the den made them giggle like fiends, then PJ would do it until she dropped, which was looking more and more eminent because they were wearing her out.

When they started to cry over trivial things and rub their eyes, she sensed they were sleepy, so she rooted around the now messy floor until she located a children's book. Of course the kids didn't want to sit still to listen to a story, but PJ gently pinned them in place and captured their attention by giving the characters high-pitched voices. At first the babies watched her as she read the book, and then they turned their attention to the pictures on the page. At last, they fell asleep, each curled toward PJ with a chubby fist thrown over her midsection for good measure.

That was how Ethan found her an hour later, asleep on the leather sofa with two dark-haired babies cuddled in her lap, their fists bunched tightly in her nubby cotton shirt. Her ebony hair spilled over her shoulders, intermingling with a baby's tiny curls. His breath caught and held at the maternal sight as something primal awakened and responded. _I want that,_ he thought. _And I want that with her._

He remained frozen in the doorway, staring silently as he tried to realign his thoughts. Of course he didn't want that with her; that thought had just popped out because he saw her looking so beautiful while holding babies. He probably would have had the same thought about any woman. He tried to picture Chrissy cuddled up so sweetly, but the image wouldn't form. Instead he saw her shrieking in terror as she ran to rub stain stick over any clothes the kids might have touched. No, Chrissy wasn't the maternal type. PJ was.

But lots of girls were. Weren't they? He searched his mind, trying to remember all the girls he had dated lately. Any of them would make good mothers, wouldn't they? Okay, more than one of them had expressed a desire for a nanny whenever she had kids, but everyone needed help. Just because someone wanted to employ a fulltime nanny didn't mean she wouldn't be a good mother. _PJ would never want a nanny for her kids,_ an insistent little voice informed him. _Good for her. I'm sure she'll be very happy whenever she decides to have kids with someone who isn't me,_ he tried to tell himself. But the thought of her having someone else's kids made him frown for reasons he didn't understand. She was a stranger; he had known her one day.

There were some people in the world who believed in love at first sight. Ethan wasn't one of them. He believed that people dated for long periods of time, vetting each other's good and bad character traits until at last they found the person they were suited for. To buy into the notion of falling in love with a stranger was setting oneself up for failure—it just didn't happen. What he had was a bad case of attraction. PJ was lovely and unique. That was all. She wasn't his soul mate or destiny or one true love, or any other bunk.

Her long lashes fluttered a couple of times before her eyes met and locked on his. Inside, his heart twisted as if someone wrenched it with both hands and he hoped his grin wasn't as goofy as it felt as she slowly came to and returned his smile.

"How's Belle?" she whispered.

"Sleeping peacefully," he answered, also in a whisper. "I think her fever finally broke. Cam woke up and untied her, and now they're both sleeping in the bed." He didn't add that they had fallen asleep before he left the room, spooned together like two halves of a whole. The sight had left him yearning for what they had. He had never experienced the sort of connection with anyone that Belle and Cam shared with each other. The older he got, the more he wanted it. Maybe that was what his crazy attraction to PJ was about. Maybe he wanted her to be his Montana someone the same way Cam was Belle's Montana someone.

He edged toward the sofa and sat gingerly beside PJ, taking care not to disturb the babies. PJ shifted positions and winced. The combined weight of two babies couldn't be very comfortable. Instinctively, he reached for one of the babies, the boy, and took him, cuddling him close and giving PJ a reprieve. She resettled the remaining girl in her clasp and sat up, unwittingly moving closer to Ethan in the process.

They sat on the couch, side by side, staring at the babies in wonder.

"They're so..." Ethan trailed off, unable to find an adjective strong enough to describe what he felt when he stared at the beautiful baby in his arms.

"Aren't they, though?" PJ agreed. She felt the same indescribable yearning every time she was near the kids. Oh, she knew they were a ton of work and it wasn't all lollipops and roses, but one look at the dark little curls and she was sucked into the magic all over again.

This day had been definitive for her. Seeing the way that Josh, Cade, and Cam cared for their wives made her realize anew how much she wanted that for herself. She wasn't willing to settle for just anyone; she wanted Mr. Right. Beside her, Ethan was unknowingly earning points in that direction, first for his devotion to Belle and then for his overjoyed wonder as he stared at baby Levi.

Ethan's free hand reached out touched baby Lexi's curls. "Pretty," he commented, but when PJ looked up, he was looking at her and not the baby.

For the first time in recent memory, PJ's cheeks heated with a blush. No one had ever told her she was pretty before, no one had ever made her feel pretty. No one but Ethan.

He smiled as his gaze once again dropped to the baby in his arms. They sat in companionable silence, shoulders touching, Ethan found the experience idyllic. When was the last time he had simply sat beside a girl, enjoying some peace and quiet? His friends in New York were up and comers, constantly on the go and trying to get ahead. At twenty nine, he was in his prime. But here in Montana, twenty nine was old to be single. All the King brothers were married and settled, and all of them were younger than he. Cade, the father of Levi and Lexi, was four years younger.

In New York, everything felt right, as if he was exactly where he should be. But in Montana, everything about his life felt off-kilter. Maybe the reason he felt so comfortable with his life in New York was because he didn't examine it too closely. His parents had been high school sweethearts and were still in love. Ethan had always secretly looked down on their blue-collar lifestyle as provincial. He had left home seeking an urbane existence, and he had found it. Why, then, wasn't he happy? Why did he have the sinking suspicion that his parents had the right idea all along?

At the same time, he felt frustrated that he was questioning himself. He had come to Montana to have a romantic getaway with his girlfriend and to spend some relaxing time with his friends. He wasn't supposed to realize his life was all wrong and his girlfriend was a shallow brat.

He inwardly winced as the last thought hit hard. What on earth was he doing with Chrissy? How had he fooled himself so completely about her? At least he could be thankful that he had brought her to Montana instead of home to Ohio to meet his parents. He could only imagine what his mom and sisters would say about her.

What would they say about PJ? Like a beacon, she drew his gaze again. They would love her, he knew it. And she would love them, especially his nieces and nephews. She would be the type that would roll up her sleeves and help his mother in the kitchen.

"Do you cook?" he blurted, forcing his voice to a whisper when the baby in his arms jumped and began to suck his thumb.

PJ nodded, her eyes wide with surprise at the random question that broke the placid silence between them. "Do you?" she whispered.

He smiled. "Only when I really want to impress someone." He paused before continuing. "I would cook for you," he added softly.

If he cooked for her, she would no doubt be impressed. No one had ever cooked for her. The flattering comment flustered her, so she changed the subject. "Speaking of food, someone needs to cook for this family tonight, and I know just the person."
Chapter 7

Shorty, the King's longtime ranch hand and onetime trail cook, made supper for the family that night. None of the King brides were able to make it to the table, but their husbands were dispatched with steaming bowls of stew that Shorty swore would have them out of bed by morning, all except Ivy who would be staying in bed for the next few months. When the husbands returned from feeding their wives, they ate with PJ, Ethan, and Chrissy who had finally emerged from her room.

The four King brothers were exhausted and unshaven, but they did their best to make small talk with their guests. PJ was too busy feeding the twins for conversation, but Chrissy and Ethan kept up their end, parrying gentle questions back and forth while they ate Shorty's stew.

"The stew is delicious, Shorty," PJ commented as soon as she was able to get a bite.

"Thankee, girl," he called, smiling delightedly while he scrubbed at a pan. No amount of inducement could get him to sit with the family and eat, but he hovered nearby as he cleaned up.

PJ smiled. She had known Shorty all her life. He had an opinion on everything but despite his bluster he had a tender heart. Though she was convinced he knew her name, he always called her "girl." She had come to think of the moniker as an endearment, especially because he attended her father's funeral and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he passed.

_Don't lose heart, girl. You're going to make it through,_ he had said.

"Did you hunt this animal?" Chrissy asked PJ as she poked at her stew.

"This is beef," PJ said. She could swear the King brothers hovered closer to their bowls to try and hide their laughter.

"Do you use your tracking skills when you hunt?" Chrissy asked.

"Tracking skills?" PJ asked, confused.

"You know, your people always have tracking skills."

Even though no one else had been talking, a new kind of silence settled over the table. "My people?" PJ said.

"Indians," Chrissy said, frowning into her bowl.

The silence deepened. PJ knew Cam was torn between wanting to be a courteous host and wanting to defend her from a painful topic. Ethan opened his mouth to speak, but PJ beat him to it. "The only thing I learned from my Native American relative was how to walk out on a family. Excuse me, I think Levi needs a diaper change." She picked up the baby and carried him from the room. She went into the living room and laid Levi on the floor, wrangling him back into submission when he started to crawl away.

"The worst part is she still has no idea she said anything offensive."

PJ turned from her spot on the floor to see Cade sitting in the doorway, Lexi on his lap. She smiled. "Ethan tells me she's a journalist. Maybe you lose your ability to empathize after asking so many nosy questions."

"Or maybe she was just born stupid," Cade said.

PJ laughed. "The more I get to know her, the more likely that possibility seems." When she finished attaching Levi's diaper, he reached for Cade as Cade reached for him.

"I think I'm going to take these rascals home and put them to bed. Can you give me a push? I still haven't mastered the art of holding both of them and wheeling myself."

"Sure thing. How's Layla doing?"

"Better. I think the stress of worrying about the kids was causing her to feel worse. Knowing they were in capable hands all day really took the pressure off both of us. Thanks a lot, PJ."

"I loved it, Cade. Anytime you need me to watch them, just say the word. I have every intention of spending a lot of time with them while I'm here."

Cade smiled. "That sounds great. I love my kids, but sometimes I miss just being with Layla. And it's not like we can call a sitter, you know? Sam watches them for us a lot, but she's been sick lately, even before this virus. We haven't wanted the kids to get whatever she has." They reached his house. PJ pushed him up the ramp and to the front door.

"Do you want me to tuck the kids in for you?"

"I think I can manage from here. You must be exhausted," he said.

"Actually, I wanted to check on Ivy. I haven't seen her all day."

"She would love that," Cade said. "She's been kind of down and lonely, especially with all her sisters-in-law sick."

They said their goodbyes, and PJ trotted across the yard to Coy and Ivy's house. As the original settlement house, theirs was older than all the others. It had originally been a two-room cabin, but over time additions had been built until it was a mid-size house. Coy and Ivy had remodeled it until all the renovations flowed seamlessly together.

Since Coy was still at the main house and Ivy couldn't get up to answer the door, PJ let herself in, knocking on the doorframe of their bedroom.

"Come in," Ivy called. Her voice was weak, but she perked up considerably when she saw PJ.

"PJ!" she exclaimed. "I'm so glad you're here. How are you? How are Layla, Belle, and Sam? How are Lexi and Levi? Have you had a chance to check the horses? Is the weather bad? Did you have any trouble getting Belle's guests from the airport? Is your room comfortable? Did you need anything?"

The overflow of questions was a sure sign that Ivy was lonely and bored out of her mind. PJ made a mental note to visit her every day, possibly even bringing Lexi and Levi for a few minutes to entertain their aunt. She sat in the chair beside the bed and began to talk, trying hard to add as many details as possible to make Ivy feel involved and entertained.

When PJ had first met Ivy five years ago, she had been slightly jealous of the woman who finally captured Coy's heart. And she had been intimidated by Ivy's cool beauty. But the intimidation and jealousy quickly dissipated when she realized how warm and sweet Ivy was, and also how much they had in common—namely their mutual love of horses. Ivy had grown up on a horse farm outside of Lexington, Kentucky. Her family had been breeding horses for as many generations as the Kings had been ranching cattle. PJ had never actually owned a horse, but she loved them nonetheless. She had grown up around them because she had always traveled with her father while he worked. He had patiently taught her everything he knew, and he also taught her to love horses.

Despite the fact that PJ was friends with all the Kings, Ivy was the reason she was here. Since she was down for the next few months, she wouldn't be able to tend to her herd of purebred horses. Normally some of the ranch hands would be able to help out, but recently the horses had broken in to a feed stall and overindulged. As a result, a few of them were suffering with laminitis, a painful hoof inflammation that was incredibly serious, especially in horses as valuable as Ivy's. Laminitis, if left untreated, could lead to death. And death of these horses could cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. The vet was being very attentive, but PJ knew Ivy would feel better if she was there to oversee their hoof care on a daily basis. For that reason, she had agreed to the invitation to stay, even though it fell over such an important family holiday.

"I haven't had a chance to check the horses yet today," PJ told her.

"No, of course not," Ivy said.

"But I'll check them tonight," she promised. "They're going to be okay, Ivy. Don't worry about it. My dad taught me some special techniques to deal with laminitis. I've never personally lost a horse to it yet."

Ivy sagged in relief. "That makes me feel so much better, PJ. You have no idea how much I appreciate you being here." She paused and bit her lip. "I'm afraid the news isn't all good, though. My family is upset about my confinement."

PJ leaned forward and clasped Ivy's hand, clutching at it. "Don't tell me your brothers are coming."

Ivy's brothers were horrible. Their antics were notorious. The stress of having them visit would no doubt be enough to send Ivy over the edge.

"Just one of them. It's not so bad when it's just one," Ivy assured her. "It's when they're all together that the trouble starts. And it's Grant; he's the most reasonable, if such a thing could be said about any of my brothers. He's going to help you with the horses."

PJ was still uncertain, but she didn't relay her fears. Ivy had enough to worry about.

Satisfied that business was taken care of, Ivy relaxed into her pillows with a smile. "So tell me more about Ethan."

"You've met him, haven't you?" PJ asked.

"I've met him, but I don't think he made as much of an impression on me as he did on you."

PJ's cheeks pinked. "It's not like that, Ivy."

"Isn't it?" Ivy asked.

"He lives in New York."

"So did Belle," Ivy pointed out.

"He's dating someone."

"So was I," Ivy said. "Cam, in fact. What other paltry excuses can you give me to try and deny the way you're feeling?"

PJ threw up her hands in surrender. "Am I that transparent?"

"Only to someone who knows you so well. I've never heard you mention a man so many times in one sentence before."

"Fine, I'll admit I find him attractive, but it's hopeless, Ivy."

"Nothing is hopeless, PJ."

PJ disagreed, but she didn't want to burst Ivy's bubble.

"Promise me something," Ivy said.

"Anything," PJ agreed.

"Even though it's horribly nosy and I have no right to ask, please keep me updated on what's happening with you and Ethan. There's no drama like ranch drama."

"I'll keep you updated," PJ promised. "But I don't think anything is going to come of it. I don't think there's going to be any drama."

"Wait and see," Ivy said sagely.

Just then, Coy entered the room. "How's my girl?" he asked, giving Ivy a loving smile.

"Better now that I've had some entertainment," Ivy replied, smiling at PJ.

"Hey, I'm entertaining," Coy said, offended.

"Of course you are," Ivy soothed. "But I needed some girl time."

"I have no idea what that means," Coy replied. "But it reminds me that Ethan is waiting outside to talk to PJ." He turned to PJ with a smile.

"And so it begins," Ivy said.

PJ shook her head and left the room as Ivy and Coy's happy chatter followed her down the hallway.
Chapter 8

Ethan stood at the bottom of the porch, waiting. PJ exited the house and stood on the top step. Even from a distance of five feet away, tension bounced and crackled between them.

"I'm sorry about Chrissy," he said at last. "Sorry I brought her here and inflicted her on you."

"Have you been together long?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I had no idea she was so, um, whatever she is. We've only been dating a couple of months, and I'm beginning to think the reason she's been so unavailable is because she's been trying to hide her true identity from me."

"Superhero?" PJ guessed.

"Superjerk," he replied. "Are you going to come down off that porch?" he asked when she made no motion to leave it.

Unaccountably nervous, she pitched around wildly, searching for a distraction. "I promised Ivy I would check her horses tonight. Want to come with me?"

In answer, he held out his hand to her. She slowly descended the steps and gave him her hand. He clasped it in a friendly gesture, allowing their arms to swing lightly between them as they walked.

"Where is she now?" PJ asked. _She_ being Chrissy.

"She sneezed. Convinced she has what everyone else has, she has confined herself to her room for the night."

"Wow, that must be the fastest-working virus in history," PJ noted.

Ethan nodded. He should send the virus a thank you note for getting Chrissy out of his hair for an evening. How had he been so wrong about her? On the plus side, now that he knew things were soon going to be over with Chrissy, did that leave him available for PJ?

They reached a horse barn with a fancy-looking security gate. PJ punched in a code with her free hand and led Ethan through. She stopped when she reached a stall, staring intently at a horse. Ethan let go her hand and eased his hand up to rest lightly on the back of her neck.

"You know I'm not going to stay with Chrissy," he said.

His voice, so low, warm, and soft, turned PJ's insides to molten lava. Before tonight she never would have guessed that a man's voice could have such an effect on her.

"There are still barriers between us," he said, taking a step closer. "But I'm willing to give it a try and see where it goes."

PJ remained rooted to the spot, staring unblinkingly at the horse.

"PJ," Ethan whispered, stepping even closer so her back was pressed to his front. "Say something. It's like you're petrified."

"I am," she choked.

"You are what?" he asked, confused.

"I am petrified." She turned, so close to him that when he put his arms up she was in his embrace.

"It's risky, and you're younger than me, but you're not a kid. This isn't your first time around the block."

She nodded. "It is my first time around the block. In fact, I've never been in this neighborhood before."

Now it was his turn to stare unblinking at her. "What?"

She didn't reply, not wanting to repeat her embarrassing admission.

"But you're beautiful." His whisper was filled with awe, the way one might talk about the Sistine Chapel. His eyes skimmed over her face while the back of his hand pushed a stray strand of hair off her cheek. How was it possible that she had never dated anyone before?

Her eyes darted away from his frank yet flattering assessment. "I guess I've been sort of holding out for someone special."

There it was—the gripping fear that had caused him to back out of so many promising relationships. PJ was supposed to be a fun flirtation, an intriguing challenge in a faraway land. But she wasn't looking for fun; she was looking for forever. In addition to taking a huge figurative leap back, he dropped his arms and took a literal step away from her.

PJ laughed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Note to self: don't tell a guy you're looking for forever when he's making the first move."

"I'm sorry, I'm not...it's just that...there's so much..." Ethan would have floundered longer, but PJ put up a hand to halt him.

"Forget about it, Ethan. I understand, and I feel the same way. I was trying to tell you that I think the two of us together would be a really bad idea. Obviously I'm attracted to you, but we're looking for two different things."

No one had ever let him off so easily before, and he had no idea how to respond. Usually when he made his emotional escape, the woman in question followed, reaching for him and trying to reel him back in. No one had ever told him she agreed with him. "Oh, okay then," he said. "Where does that leave us?"

PJ's answering smile was enigmatic. "It leaves us where we started: nowhere. You're a stranger—a cute one—but still a stranger. At the end of your visit, we'll say goodbye, and I'll never see you again." She stood on her toes to peek over his shoulder. "Not to be rude, but the daylight is fading, and I really need to check on Ivy's horses."

"Okay," he said, taken aback by her openness and honesty. Where were the games? Where was the drama? "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight," she called cheerfully. She waited until he was safely out of the barn, and then she turned and pressed her face to the nearest horse, releasing her pent-up tears.

Ethan stumbled back to the house, unaware of his surroundings or his breath which crystallized and hung in the cold night air. What had just happened? Hadn't he promised himself to turn over a new leaf? Hadn't he declared that he was looking for forever, too? Why, then, had he practically run away screaming when PJ said the same thing?

_Old habits die hard,_ he thought. Since high school he had fancied himself something of a ladies' man, moving through a steady stream of girlfriends, always searching for the next best thing. Only in the last few years had the thought of settling down become more and more appealing to him. In fact, he could almost trace the exact moment to the day that Belle had invited him to her quickie elopement. He and her parents had been the only family present because Cam wanted to wait until he returned home to announce his marriage to his brothers.

He had been skeptical of their whirlwind romance, afraid it would end in disaster and divorce. But after observing them together on their wedding day, he realized how well-suited they were to each other. She was the yin to his yang, and vice versa. From that day forward, a secret yearning had started in Ethan. He began looking beyond the superficial when he decided to go out with a woman.

At least he thought he had. But now he was stuck with Chrissy whose depth could fit in a thimble while he ran from PJ whose depth was like an ocean abyss. He paused on the top step and looked back at the horse barn. Should he go tell her he had changed his mind? Should they hash it out tonight and agree to work on something together?

He shook his head. Better to try in the morning when he had a clear head. Later, he would regret waiting.
Chapter 9

As she had promised she would, PJ went to make her report to Ivy the next morning. Ivy smiled happily when PJ arrived, shooing Coy away to go to work. With the other brothers occupied with their sick wives, the ranch was in the hands of their foreman, Tanner, but Tanner had questions for one of the brothers and Ivy deemed Coy the brother in charge today.

"I don't want to leave you," Coy said.

"Coy, I'm fine," Ivy protested. "You've got to get out of here or you'll go stir crazy."

"But you're going to go stir crazy," he protested.

"Not today. PJ is going to keep me entertained."

Coy gave PJ a dubious look, wondering what could possibly be so entertaining about her. When he couldn't find anything, he shrugged and headed out of the house.

"Poor man," Ivy commented. "Being stuck with a fat pregnant invalid hermit of a wife."

"The only true word in that sentence was 'wife,'" PJ informed her. Even in her convalescence, Ivy looked like a fashion plate from a pregnancy magazine. Somehow she had managed to do her hair and makeup, causing PJ to feel like a frump in comparison. She gave a self-conscious pat to her ever-present ponytail and cleared her throat. "First things first, your horses are doing okay. I plan to go out and do some work on their feet today. The one we discussed is still favoring that leg pretty badly. I'm going to give him some relief and make him more comfortable."

"Poor little baby," Ivy said, swiping at a tear. Tenderhearted at the best of times, pregnancy had made her even more emotional. "Now get to the good stuff. What happened with Ethan?" She grinned, waiting.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Ivy echoed. "That can't be. He came here for you last night. Start there. What happened?"

"He said he's going to break up with Chrissy. He's realized she's a..."

"Language," Ivy warned, laying a protective hand over her unborn baby.

"I was going to say he realized she's not a nice person," PJ said. Ivy rolled her eyes in disbelief and PJ continued, smirking. "So, he tried to make a move." She paused, letting the suspense build for Ivy's benefit.

As PJ had predicted, Ivy gripped her pillow and leaned forward interestedly. "And..."

"And then I told him I had zero experience with men and I would only be with Mr. Right."

Ivy blinked at her. "You're kidding, right? You didn't really say that."

PJ nodded. "I'm afraid I did. Apparently, in dating, there are some lessons you learn really quickly. For instance, I knew the second the words were out of my mouth that they were a horrible mistake."

"Oh, honey," Ivy said, her tone oozing sympathy. "You never, ever mention forever to a man like Ethan. Maybe on your wedding day you can talk about commitment, but only if he brings it up."

PJ laughed and shook her head. "I'm a lost cause, Ivy. I say everything I think, all of the time. What man wants that? They all want a girl who knows how to say the right thing, and when to say nothing at all. That's not me."

Ivy opened her mouth to reply when the slamming of a door gave her pause.

"Baby sister!" a voice boomed.

Ivy lay back, the blood draining from her face. "He's here," she announced.

PJ considered herself to be fearless, but even she held her breath as one of Ivy's fabled brothers thundered down the hallway and into his sister's room. Without pausing to take off his shoes, he bounced onto the bed and gathered Ivy into an all-encompassing hug.

"How're you doing, darlin'?" He kissed her cheek.

Despite her earlier fear, Ivy rested her head on her brother's shoulder with a smile. "I'm good Grant, really. There was no need for you to come all the way out here."

"Of course there was," Grant argued. "That Yankee you married doesn't know the proper way to take care of you. I'll have you back on your feet in no time."

PJ was horrified. The last thing Ivy needed was to be on her feet. "You can't do that. The doctor said she has to stay in bed until the baby is due."

Grant released Ivy and rolled onto his back, giving PJ a sweeping glance. "And who do we have here?" he asked.

"Grant, you've heard me mention PJ, our farrier." Ivy's voice held a hint of smug satisfaction. PJ was the first female farrier she had ever encountered, and she knew the introduction would shock her unflappable brother.

Indeed, his eyebrows shot up so quickly they were in danger of flying off his face. "No kiddin', you're a farrier?"

"I prefer the term 'horse-hoof manicurist'," PJ said.

Grant blinked at her, not sure if she was serious. He looked at Ivy in question. "That a northern thing?"

"Having a sense of humor? Apparently," PJ answered. "Yes, I'm a farrier."

Grant gave a whoop of laughter that PJ swore shook the chandelier above the bed. She thought it was miraculous that Ivy had turned out to be sweet and feminine. By all rights, she should be a bruiser who carried a bat for protection. How else could she have survived a childhood with her five hoodlum older brothers?

"I should get back to the horses," PJ commented. "I want to work on that hoof."

"I'll come with you," Grant volunteered, scooting off the bed.

"No, there's no need," PJ said. "Really, you should stay and visit with your sister."

"What for? I've satisfied myself she's okay. I'll come back later when the Yankee is here and give him a hard time about putting her in this condition."

"That sounds super," Ivy said dryly. "Take him, PJ. I really want the horses to get better." She bit her lip worriedly.

"Don't worry, baby," Grant said, shooting Ivy a tender smile. "I'll show your farrier what to do." With that, he picked PJ up, threw her over his shoulder, and carried her from the house.

Ethan was tired. He hadn't slept well, tossing and turning as he replayed his encounter with PJ. He had been stupid and a coward and a stupid coward. Upon learning PJ had never been romantically involved with a man, he should have immediately volunteered to be the first. Why hadn't he? What was wrong with him?

Then, after finally slipping into unconsciousness, a knock had awoken him. It tuned out that Chrissy actually was sick, which might explain her foul mood and extraneous sleep habits. Contrary to what he might have guessed, she didn't like to be coddled when she was sick. After asking if he had any pain reliever, she had immediately stumbled back to bed.

Concerned, Ethan had followed her only to be told in no uncertain terms to leave her alone and let her sleep. He had checked on her once since then, only to be told the same thing. If he ever wrote a book on dating, he would include a chapter on relationship tests, and two of those tests would be illness and travel.

Now he was bleary-eyed, sipping a bitter brew one of the brothers had made and tried to pass off as coffee. They should have assigned coffee making to him; he did it for Belle every morning she was in New York.

He blamed exhaustion for the mirage he suffered after his first sip of the "coffee." Surely he was imagining the sight of PJ slung over some barbarian's shoulders. In true PJ fashion, she wasn't kicking or screaming. Her face rested in her hands, her elbows propped on the brute's back. His sluggish mind started to put the pieces of the puzzle together and he realized the giant was one of Ivy's notorious brothers.

Ethan had heard of the brothers, of course. Who hadn't? They were infamous. Two years ago, after trying and failing to convince Belle that she worked too hard and needed a vacation, they had somehow rerouted her and Cam's flight to a private island off the coast of Georgia with the instruction to "Enjoy some southern hospitality."

Unfortunately they made two mistakes. First, they underestimated Belle. Second, they gave their credit card information to the airline. After only thirty seconds of interrogation, a weeping clerk gave the information to Belle who used it to fly her entire list of authors to the island for an all-expenses paid vacation. Then after the long weekend was over, she sent the brothers a thank-you note with the message, "You were right—a vacation was just what I needed. Thanks for the hospitality."

To Ethan's knowledge, that was the last time the brothers tried to prank Belle.

He gave up trying to drink the battery acid, tossing it instead off the side of the porch. He set his mug on the rail and trotted down the steps toward the horse barn that PJ had just been carried into. By the time he entered the barn, PJ was on her feet and wearing a pair of leather chaps over her jeans. The brother stood back watching her with a little too much fascination on his face. Ethan joined him at the fence rail and PJ looked up with a smile at his approach.

"Good morning, Ethan," she said cheerfully. "Have you met Grant Honeywell?"

"Only by reputation," Ethan said. He stuck out his hand and Grant shook it, his meaty paw almost encompassing Ethan's.

"You're from New York," Grant said, looking Ethan up and down.

Ethan looked down at his jeans, t-shirt, and the flannel shirt he wore for warmth. "What gave me away?"

"The flannel is too new and expensive," Grant replied. Turning his attention back to PJ, he spoke again. "What are you going to do now, sugar?"

"Watch and learn," she said, causing Grant to grin. Ethan watched the byplay with a growing sense of alarm. Grant was obviously interested in PJ. What was her reaction to him?

Soon, however, watching PJ took on its usual fascination and he forgot all about Grant Honeywell as he studied PJ's deft movements with the horse, trying to figure out what she was doing. After a while he gave up trying and asked. "What are you doing?"

"First I'm cleaning the hooves. I use this hooked knife to clean out the inside. Then I use these," she held up what looked like the world's largest nail clippers, "to trim the edge of the hoof and round it off. Finally I file it with my rasp." She pointed to a large metal rasp.

"How do you know when you're done?" he asked.

"Balance, it's all about balance. Think of the tires on a car. You want them to wear evenly. It's the same with the hooves. You have to take each horse's stance into account, filing more or less on certain stress points."

She finished cleaning the hooves. Ethan didn't know much about horses, but even he could see this one was in pain. It held its right front hoof in the air, refusing to put any pressure on it. Next she took out a wad of putty, or at least it looked like putty to him. She pressed it into the hoof, securing a piece of Styrofoam over it.

"What's that?" Grant asked the question this time.

"Dental plaster. I think it's set now." She removed the Styrofoam and cut off the excess plaster. When that was done, she traced the hoof on a sturdy piece of foam padding, then cut it out and secured it over the hoof with duct tape. As soon as she was finished, the horse set its hoof down and started walking.

Grant gave a whoop of joy that startled the horse. PJ sidestepped its back hoof when it jumped and Ethan shot Grant a disparaging glance.

"That's brilliant, sugar," Grant said. "I'm going to go tell baby sister all about it." Apparently he had the attention span of a gnat because he ran off without another word like a kid who had just discovered a new toy.

There were two other horses in the enclosure with PJ. Ethan remained rapt as he watched her clean their hooves and attach new shoes. On the front feet of the remaining horses, she attached the heart-shaped shoes he had watched her make the previous morning. The memory harkened him back to the intense moment they had shared in her workshop so that when PJ finished her work and looked up, she was mesmerized by his intense expression. She stalled, taking her time stepping out of her chaps. At last she had no more reasons to remain in the pen, so she put her foot on the fence rail and swung up.

Ethan stepped up, stopping her progress so she sat on the fence, waiting. He rested his hands on either side of her, almost touching her but not quite.

"PJ, I have something to say," he began.

She waited breathlessly while he tried to get out whatever it was he had to tell her.

"I'm sorry about yesterday."

A blush warmed her face as she remembered her amateurish admission from the day before. Why had she blurted what she was feeling without thinking it through? "Don't, Ethan. Yesterday wasn't your fault; it was mine. I shouldn't have said what I did. It just popped out. I wasn't measuring you for wedding tuxedos, I promise."

He smiled. "I know. I failed to take into account that you haven't had much experience in these matters, and I overreacted." His hands inched closer, brushing her thighs. "I'd like to try again, if you think we could."

"I...I don't know," she said uncertainly. She still wasn't sure about him, wasn't sure she could trust him. She had the feeling she would only fall in love once in her life. She didn't want to waste that once on the wrong person.

"Here's my dating philosophy," Ethan said. "Dating should be a time of getting to know each other to figure out if you're with the person you want to be with. If you take it slow and have fun, what's the harm?"

"It sounds so easy when you say it like that," she said.

"It's not easy," he said. "And since I know you're a big fan of honesty, PJ, I have to tell you that I'm usually a big jerk when it comes to women. But I'm trying to change—I want to change."

The admission shouldn't have made her like him more, but it did. She smiled and brushed his hair out of his eyebrows. "I have trouble imagining you as a cad, Ethan," she said.

"Maybe because no one has used that word since the thirties," he suggested, pinching her thigh.

She lightly shoved his shoulder. "I don't think you're allowed to make fun of me yet."

"Trust me—that starts from the beginning and never ends." He moved slightly closer, drawing her further into his embrace. "I have one important question for you."

"What?" she asked, slightly breathless with his proximity. Somehow she was able to smell his cologne over the heavier smells of leather and manure, and it smelled heavenly.

"What do you want for Christmas?"

PJ froze, taken aback. _Christmas!_ Was that really coming up in a few days? No one had asked her what she wanted for Christmas since she was a little girl, which was probably the last time she had received a present. And now a handsome man was asking her what she wanted.

"Nothing," she said hastily. She didn't want him to buy her anything.

"Come on," he said. "Don't say that. Everyone wants something."

She cast her eyes about the room, searching for an answer. "I've had my eye on a new awl," she remarked.

Ethan laughed. The sound rumbled through his chest and vibrated against her knees. "A new awl. That's definitely the first time I've ever heard that response. Where does one get awls? Is there an Awls-R-Us in Montana?"

"No, and please don't get me anything." Her instinct was to tell him that she was uncomfortable with such displays, but she learned her lesson about saying too much.

"We'll see," he said with a secretive smile. He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her palm. He noted with interest that her hands were calloused and the feeling intrigued him. He had never dated a woman who performed manual labor for a living.

She rested her palms on his shoulders and looked down at him from her superior height on the fence rail. He was very pretty for a man. She had always pictured herself with a cowboy because those were the only men she knew. Ethan brought out her natural insecurities as a woman. How could he be attracted to her with her jeans, t-shirt and ponytail? He should be with someone like Chrissy, someone who knew which color shoes to wear after Labor Day and how to use a straightening iron on her hair.

"Ethan, can I speak to you?"

They turned to see Cam in the doorway, disapproval in his tone and expression. PJ hurriedly dismounted the fence and turned to her work with a detached expression while Ethan plodded slowly behind Cam.

Cam led him to the office and closed the door. Sitting down, he indicated the chair across from his desk and Ethan sat. He remained silent, waiting for Cam to speak, until he couldn't take the tension anymore.

"How's Belle?" he asked.

"Convinced she can put in a full day of work," Cam said. He shook his head. "That woman makes me crazy."

Ethan grinned. "Did you tie her to the bed again?"

"Didn't have to. She's too weak to get up. I'm worried about her." He scrubbed his hand tiredly over his face.

"I've never seen Belle sick before." In the six years Ethan had worked for her, she had never taken a day off work for illness.

"Neither have I," Cam said. "And I never want to again. It's no fun to see someone you love in pain. Which brings me to you." He paused, leaned forward and clasped his hands on the desk, clearing his throat. "You know I'm no good at discussing matters of the heart."

"Why is that? You're a famous romance writer."

"One of life's little ironies. The point is that you're good people, Ethan. Belle and I like and trust you. But PJ, well, she's like a little sister to all of us. We're protective of her because she needs protecting. She's not as tough as she seems."

"I don't think she seems tough at all," Ethan replied. "I think she's sweet and soft and beautiful."

Cam blinked at him. "You're really smitten."

Ethan smiled. "I really am."

"But you're three years older than me, and PJ is just a kid."

"Maybe you feel that way because you've watched her grow up, but believe me when I tell you she's not a kid anymore."

Cam grimaced. "That's enough. I prefer to think of her as a kid. Just don't hurt her."

"I'll try," Ethan promised.

"Don't try," Cam warned. "Don't hurt her." The words _or else_ were implied.

The roundabout threat hovered in the air between them. As a distraction, Ethan glanced at the foot tall stack of papers to his right. He frowned as he picked up a list detailing a cow's parentage.

"Cam, don't tell me you've been inputting all this information by hand."

"Yes, and I'm way behind. I need to work, but Belle's so sick..." He trailed off and frowned at the large stack.

"You can't be serious," Ethan said, dumfounded. "There's a program that will let you scan this, and it even sorts it for you and puts it in a spreadsheet."

Now it was Cam's turn to be amazed. "Where can I order this program?"

"You can download it now. Here," he stood, moved Cam aside, and began typing. When he realized Cam was hovering, he suggested he go check to Belle while everything in the office was set up.

Two hours later he returned to the house, checked on Chrissy, found her still asleep, and went down the hall to Belle and Cam's room.

Cam was sitting beside the bed, reading to Belle. Because it was a typed manuscript, Ethan wondered if it was his newest book. Cam usually put out a book a year under the guise of Suzanne Rey. His true identity was such a closely guarded secret that only Belle, Ethan, their boss, Nancy, and Cam's brother, Cade, knew about it.

"Did you get everything set up already?" Cam asked.

"I set it up, scanned your paperwork, and created a series of spreadsheets for you. I also interfaced your files so they'll share information with each other, sort themselves, and delete any duplicate information. And I created a backup in case your system crashes."

"Ethan, that's incredible," Cam said.

"See, didn't I tell you he was the best assistant ever?" Belle croaked.

"I believe you, now more than ever. You just saved me at least six months of work," Cam said. He eyed Ethan with an odd, calculating look.

"Don't even think about it," Belle said. "Ethan is mine."

"But, sweetheart, I thought what's yours is mine." Cam leaned forward to nuzzle Belle's cheek.

She laughed and wiggled away from him. "That applies to everything but my assistant. Get your own Ethan."

"Maybe I will," was Cam's cryptic reply.
Chapter 10

Three of the King women were able to make it to supper that night. Ivy remained confined to her bed, but she sent Coy in her stead, telling him to remember what everyone said and did so he could fill her in. PJ secretly thought she sent Coy to spy on her, Ethan, and Grant who had now been added to the mix of intrigue if this afternoon's performance was any indication.

He had stuck to her like glue, dogging her steps and staring hard at her while she worked. The effect had been to make PJ feel like a circus freak instead of the object of his affection, however. He seemed fascinated with the fact that she was both a woman and a farrier. He was handsome; all of Ivy's brothers were, but he looked like a southern version of a Montana cowboy—big and rough. She was uncomfortable with his close attention until they began talking about horses. Like Ivy, he was knowledgeable and passionate on the subject. Finding common ground put her at ease and made Grant seem more approachable. Until then he had seemed so big and boisterous that he was intimidating. After they talked for a few hours, she realized he was just like all the other guys she knew, except more so. He was larger, louder, hairier, and southern. Otherwise, he was interchangeable with any Montana cowboy.

Now, by some cruel twist of fate, PJ found herself seated at the large table between Ethan and Grant. She wondered what Ethan had been up to all afternoon. Had Cam warned him away from her? And, if so, had he listened? Then he handed her the bread basket and intentionally brushed her knuckles with his finger. PJ blushed like a schoolgirl and had to remind herself once again that she was a grown adult and fully capable of handling such things. To be sure no one had noticed the silent exchange, she let her gaze travel around the table.

Layla was the healthiest-looking sister. She seemed almost normal as she fed the twins and laughed and chatted with her family. Sam still looked a little green around the gills. Josh darted her worried glances and twice leaned in to whisper something in her ear.

Belle was by far the sickest of the bunch. It was a wonder not only that she was able to sit up, but that Cam had allowed her out of bed. Then PJ noticed how tired he looked, and she wondered if Belle had simply worn him down with her requests to escape their room.

"Did you work with the horses all day, PJ?" Ethan asked.

He asked it loudly enough that everyone heard, so all eyes turned curiously to her. "I did," she said. "Grant helped."

Grant beamed. "I helped," he repeated dutifully. PJ was tempted to give him a lollipop for his efforts. He wasn't stupid, by any means. In fact, he had a degree in engineering from a prestigious university, but he also possessed a very boyish nature that could alternately be charming or grating, depending on her mood.

"What did you do?" she asked Ethan.

"Belle and I finished up some work," he said with a secret smile.

Belle laughed weakly. "In my defense, I was very passionate when I had you make that list yesterday."

"You were adamant that I do it to your exact specifications," Ethan said. Since the rest of the table was listening, he filled them in. "Belle had me make a list of things I needed to do yesterday. Unfortunately, she was hallucinating with fever at the time. I wrote down exactly what she said as proof that she actually said it."

"What was on the list?" Coy asked.

"One of the directives was to asher the asheroff," Belle said.

"What does that mean?" Cade asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine, but I was certain it needed to be done as soon as possible."

Everyone laughed as Ethan rattled off a few more of the nonsensical things Belle had told him to do. When he finished his story, a pleasant sort of silence fell over the room. PJ noticed Sam and Josh stealing glances until at last Josh cleared his throat to gain everyone's attention.

"Sam and I have some news." He reached out to clasp her hand while Sam studied her dinner plate. "You may have noticed that Sam's virus has lasted a long time. The truth is that we're going to have a baby this summer." There was a second of stunned surprise and then the laughter and congratulations started.

PJ was as ecstatic as the actual members of the family. As the newest addition to the Kings, Sam was also the quietest, preferring to work on the range with Josh. Even though she seemed very sweet, PJ hadn't gotten to know her very well. She hoped that with the addition of children, all of that would change. Sam would have to stay home a little more, and now there would be more babies to love and cuddle.

_I have baby fever and I'm only twenty one,_ PJ thought. How much louder would her biological clock get as the years progressed? She used the bedlam as an opportunity to study Ethan. Did he want kids? She shook her head, trying to dislodge the thought. They were supposed to be taking it slow to see what happened. She had already sent him packing with talk of marriage. How much more frightened would he be if she dared to mention children?

PJ would have been surprised to learn that Ethan was also thinking about children. The stubborn vision of PJ with Lexi and Levi had taken root in his brain and refused to leave. And now another King was going to have a baby. At twenty two, Josh and Sam were the youngest couple present. Ethan nosily wondered if the pregnancy had been planned or a surprise. They were so young, but they had also been married two years and they had a stable home, family, income and relationship. Wasn't that what everyone said was needed before a baby should be brought into the world? Whereas Ethan had none of those things. He was as close to having a wife and family as he was to the man on the moon.

When all the hubbub surrounding Josh and Sam's announcement died down, there was the sound of someone weeping. To everyone's astonishment, it was Belle. She wasn't known for her displays of emotion. No one but Cam had ever even seen her cry before, and now she was practically sobbing.

"Belle, honey, what is it?" Cam said, laying a gentle hand on her back.

"I'm just so happy for them," she said when she could speak.

Cam and Ethan shot each other looks of dismay. Belle wasn't anyone's idea of a kid person. She had been blasé about the twins and neutral on the subject of Ivy's pregnancy. Why was she so overjoyed for Josh and Sam?

"Come on, sweetheart, let's get you to bed," Cam said, half lifting and half dragging her down the hallway to their suite.

"That was odd," Cade said into the ensuing silence.

"Maybe it's the fever," Coy suggested. "Sometimes fevers make Ivy cry."

"Sometimes I cry when I get sick," Sam admitted.

"I just cried the other day when I didn't feel well," Layla added.

Everyone looked to PJ for her input. "I cried when I broke my leg," she said.

Ethan smiled and Grant guffawed. "Thatta girl," he said, slapping her hard on the back. "I like my women tough."

Ethan's smile quickly changed to a frown that lingered until Grant removed his hand. The mention of sick women reminded him that he needed to go check on Chrissy. While PJ and Layla tidied the kitchen, he loaded a tray with leftover soup, water, and juice and carried it to her room.

There was no answer to his knock so he gently opened the door and poked his head around. Chrissy was still asleep. Her soft snores that let him know she was still alive. How could anyone possibly sleep so much without food or drink all day? He set the tray beside her bed and crept quietly out of the room.

When he returned to the kitchen, only Layla and Cade remained. They sat drinking coffee, trying to capture a moment of peace while their twins wreaked havoc on the cupboard that housed the pans.

"Any idea where PJ went?" he asked.

"She and Grant went outside. He said he had something he wanted to show her."

_I'll just bet he does,_ Ethan thought. He smiled at the couple and made his way outside. Predictably, he located Grant and PJ at the horse barn. Although he had expected Grant to be putting the moves on her, he actually did seem to be showing her something on one of the horse's hooves.

"You might be right," PJ said, though she sounded dubious. "We'll have to check with the vet and let him be the tiebreaker."

"Sure thing, sugar," Grant said. He dropped the horse's hoof and turned to PJ with a smirk. "What do I get when I win?"

Ethan cleared his throat and PJ jumped. "Hey, Ethan," she said timidly, spinning toward him to include him in their circle. "I should put this stuff away." She gathered up a handful of tools and headed toward a storage locker in the back of the barn. Ethan and Grant remained, watching her walk away.

"That is one fine farrier," Grant commented. He tore his eyes from PJ and looked at Ethan, his smile slipping slightly as he took in Ethan's thunderous expression. "But I suppose she's not your type. Your girlfriend is holed up in her room, right?"

The reminder of Chrissy took Ethan back. "Uh, yes. She's pretty sick."

Grant nodded. "I bet she's pretty."

"She's pretty," Ethan agreed, but he was looking at PJ as she walked toward them. Her eyes caught his and held. "I thought maybe we could catch a movie."

"That sounds awesome!" Grant enthused. "Let's go." He tromped toward the house, not waiting to see if he was being followed. Ethan thought about ditching him, but no doubt he would find them wherever they went.

"Awesome," Ethan muttered. Beside him, PJ laughed quietly. Somehow, she was even lovelier when she smiled. The corners of her onyx eyes crinkled above her high cheek bones. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw the flash of a dimple.

They had the den to themselves, but it didn't matter because Grant plopped down in the middle of the couch, forcing PJ and Ethan to squeeze beside him in the remaining space. _This isn't the sort of cuddling I had in mind,_ Ethan thought as he hugged the arm of the couch to avoid rubbing elbows with Grant. How did any one person grow so large? What did they feed him? He wasn't fat, but he was tall with broad shoulders and big bones. Plus his loud, large personality made him seem much bigger and more imposing. Ethan told him to choose the movie, figuring he would have an opinion anyway, and was surprised when he picked a children's movie with talking animals.

For the first half hour, they watched the movie in silence, except for Grant's occasional chuckles. "I'm a sucker for kid movies," he explained, sounding almost self-conscious for once.

About halfway through, the door to the den burst open, and Coy poked inside. "Grant, Ivy wants you."

"Now?" Grant said, casting a longing look toward the unfinished movie.

"Now," Coy repeated. His disheveled, harried appearance caused PJ to wonder if Ivy had sent him with the sole purpose of retrieving Grant so she and Ethan could have some alone time together.

Ethan remained on his end of the couch after Grant left. For the first time in a long time, he was unsure of what to do. PJ was a novice. He didn't want to scare her by moving too far, too fast, but he couldn't sit there and do nothing. Suddenly the cushion between them felt like a gulf and his mouth ran dry at the thought of trying to cross it. Everything was a first for her, that meant it had to be perfect, and that was a lot of pressure on a man. Finally he realized that inertia was worse than anything else, and he slowly began to shift toward her on the couch.

She took the hint and began to inch toward him. He felt like a teenager again as they slowly and subtly began to make their way toward each other on the sofa until at last they were sitting side by side. There was something fun and refreshing about their innocent interchange, he thought, as he reached over and took her hand, twining his fingers through hers. Was this the first time she had ever held hands with a man? Being someone's first anything was a heady experience.

For the remainder of the movie, they sat quietly holding hands. Ethan tried to remember the last time he had enjoyed just sitting and holding hands, but his mind was a blank. He felt wholesome and nostalgic, as if he were back in Ohio in his parents' basement, trying to coax a girl to kiss him for the very first time. The family-friendly movie they were watching only enhanced the feeling.

The movie ended and Ethan realized the time had come—he was going to kiss her. All of a sudden he felt unaccountably nervous. He had to remind himself that he had kissed countless girls and knew exactly what to do. With that bracing thought in mind, he let go of PJ's hand, turned toward her, and cupped her face in his hands. She wore the same sweet expression as the first girl he had kissed when he was thirteen, a mix of nervousness and anticipation. He smiled briefly before bestowing a tender and lingering kiss.

PJ was no slouch. She caught on quickly and returned his kiss. Although the exchange remained chaste and innocent, Ethan chalked it up as his best kiss ever. He didn't want to let her go and say goodnight, but he did. He walked to his room feeling buoyant. For once, things were perfect. What could possibly go wrong?
Chapter 11

The next morning, Chrissy was better. In all his euphoria over PJ, Ethan had completely forgotten her. Now, seeing her drawn yet smiling face at the breakfast table, he tried to figure out what to do. Only a jerk broke up with someone on vacation. Of course, only a jerk cheated on someone on vacation, too.

He grimaced as he poked at his bacon. How had he gotten himself into this mess? He had allowed his attraction to PJ blind him to the fact that he had a girlfriend, a girlfriend he had dragged halfway across the country to be with. Did other men get themselves in these messes? Looking around the table at the King brothers, he doubted it.

After some serious thought, he decided what he was going to do. He would make a clean break with Chrissy and offer to pay her return back to New York. That way she could still salvage some of her Christmas vacation, maybe spend the time with her friends and family. She would undoubtedly be angry with him, and rightfully so, but she wouldn't be heartbroken because they weren't that serious. In fact, there were several times over the last few weeks that Ethan had thought Chrissy was going to break up with him, but for some reason she held on.

"Do you feel up to taking a walk?" he asked as soon as breakfast was finished. "We could go to one of the barns; they're heated."

"Sounds good," she agreed. "Let me grab my coat." She left the table and Ethan noticed PJ watching the exchange, trying to pretend she hadn't been eavesdropping. He wanted to tell her that he was going to break up with Chrissy, but he couldn't exactly do that with the rest of the table listening in. Instead, he gave her a wink and a smile and watched with pleasure as her cheeks warmed with a blush. When was the last time he made a girl blush? She was charming.

Chrissy returned and interrupted his dreamy thoughts. Ethan stood and led the way outside. She chattered happily, seeming much more cheerful after her illness. His thoughts drifted until they reached the barn.

"This is actually really pretty," Chrissy commented as they entered the large wooden barn. "I always wanted a horse growing up. I bet most girls do." She looked around again, biting her lip. "There's a reason so many people write about Montana. It's beautiful here." She bit her lip again, looking nervous. "Ethan, we've been dating awhile now."

Ethan frowned, puzzled. Was she breaking up with him? On the other end of the barn, PJ entered and began working, studiously ignoring everything but the horses. Ethan tried to pay attention to Chrissy, but his eyes were automatically drawn to PJ's fluid movements.

"So I was thinking," Chrissy continued, oblivious to the fact that Ethan was only half listening. "I think it's time you tell me the truth."

That caught his attention. He looked at her in surprise. Had she guessed the truth of his feelings for PJ? If so, how? She had been asleep for most of the time. "What? The truth about what?" Guiltily, he looked at PJ again.

"Suzanne Rey."

Now his attention was riveted on Chrissy. "What did you say?"

"I said I think you should tell me the truth of Suzanne Rey's identity. I know you know who she is. I want to do an article. As my boyfriend, I think you owe it to me to tell me. And I also know it's someone in the King family. My research led me that far."

Ethan's jaw dropped. Things were beginning to come together and make sense. Chrissy's seeming indifference combined with her tenacity. He had wondered why she hadn't broken up with him when her feelings for him were lukewarm at best. Now he knew. The whole thing had been a lie. She had been getting close to him in order to find out the identity of Suzanne Rey. He felt used, angry, but also a little relieved. Perhaps PJ's word had been apt, and he really was a cad, but he was relieved to have a legitimate reason to break up with Chrissy.

"Chrissy, I don't talk about my job outside work," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Ethan, these aren't state secrets. I just want to do an interview, and it will be a positive interview. You know my magazine isn't known for tearing celebrities apart. But everyone is dying to know who Suzanne Rey is. I told my boss I had a killer idea, and this is it." She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a challenging pout.

"Not for all the money in the world," he said sincerely, and meant it. Chrissy wasn't the fist person who had tried to pry Suzanne's true identity from him. Other reporters had offered money, though. She was the first to use emotional manipulation.

That was when Chrissy had a full-blown tantrum. She mustered tears, wept bitterly, jammed her balled fists at her sides, and made all manner of baseless threats. Ethan tuned her out, soothing himself with the sight of PJ as she moved fluidly around the other end of the barn. How had he ever thought he wanted someone like Chrissy? PJ was like a breath of fresh air. She was lovely. She was...

"What did you say?" he asked Chrissy, belatedly tuning in for the latter portion of her tantrum.

"It's her, isn't it?" she asked, and now she was looking at PJ.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"She's Suzanne Rey. I get it now."

"What do you get?" he asked, thoroughly confused.

"Your big and mysterious connection to her. Don't think I haven't noticed, Ethan, because I have. It didn't make sense to me how you could meet a stranger and think she's your soul mate, especially not someone like her, but now I understand. You've known her all along because you work with her. She's your author."

He was shaking his head, but Chrissy was oblivious as she continued.

"And that one book, her second, had all that stuff about Native Americans. This makes perfect sense. Of course she's not actually some backwoods hoof trimmer; she's secretly a famous author, and that's why you like her."

"Chrissy..." he tried to insert, but she wouldn't listen.

"And I'm going to get my interview with her, like it or not."

He watched, dazed, as she strode off in the direction of the unsuspecting PJ. He trotted to catch up with her, but it was too late.

"I want to interview you," Chrissy declared, striking a defensive pose with her feet planted firmly and her arms crossed over her chest.

PJ froze and looked at her with an expression of alarm mixed with amusement. "Interview me? What for?"

"Don't pretend. I know," Chrissy said, her tone cryptic.

PJ looked helplessly at Ethan. "Chrissy seems to think you are Suzanne Rey," he said.

"I don't think; I know. It all makes sense now. Look, if you don't want to give me an interview, then I can make things really miserable for you. I'll out you and you'll have reporters knocking down your doorstep, hounding your every move. Your peaceful Montana life will be finished." She snapped her fingers for emphasis.

PJ was looking at her like she was crazy, and rightly so, but Ethan was looking at her with dawning horror. He had brought this abomination here and, while he wasn't worried about her outing PJ who had nothing to hide, he was worried about her destroying Cam's hard-earned privacy. He could imagine what she described. There would be a frenzy of interest in Cam. His solitude would be shredded, to say nothing of how his friends and neighbors would react when they learned that the head of the biggest ranch in the area was secretly a romance writer. Ethan had to do something, but what?

"All right, I'll talk to her and see if I can get her to consent to the interview," Ethan said, surprising both women so they turned to look at him in astonishment. "But, Chrissy, can you not see that your demanding attitude is making everything worse? Why would she want to give you an interview when you've been nothing but horrible to her since the minute you met?"

Chrissy bit her lip and looked worriedly at PJ. "I'm sorry if I've come off a bit rude and pushy. I wasn't feeling well."

They all knew she was feeling perfectly well now and was still being rude and pushy, but PJ didn't say as much. She nodded in acceptance of the apology before turning her confused eyes back on Ethan.

"Ethan..." PJ began, but he cut her off with a slight shake of his head.

"Here's how it's going to work," he said to Chrissy. "I'm going to talk to her and see if I can convince her to give you the interview. You're going to behave yourself and act like you actually have some manners. And then, whether she decides to give you the interview or not, you're going to go home. Oh, and consider this our official breakup. Now go back to the house so I can talk to PJ."

Chrissy frowned up at him, not sure if she wanted to be angry or grateful. At last gratitude won out and she turned submissively toward the house. PJ and Ethan watched her go in silence, not speaking until she was safely in the house.

"What was that about?" PJ asked, confused.

Ethan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, holding a few beats before slowly releasing it, but it did nothing to ease his tension. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at PJ. She was so very soft, so utterly feminine and beautiful. By all rights, there should have been some sort of angel beam on her when he realized he loved her, but there wasn't. She stood in her leather chaps, metal tool in hand, but as far as Ethan was concerned, she had never looked lovelier. Before answering her, before he could possibly ruin what might be between them, he put his arms around her, pulled her close, and kissed her.

This kiss wasn't like the chaste one they had shared the previous night. It was passionate, demanding, and potent enough to waken the untapped sensuality within her. At first she was hesitant, but then she tossed aside the tool she was holding, wrapped her arms around his neck, and fully immersed herself in the kiss. Ethan, realizing that he was her guide in this uncharted territory, reluctantly pulled away before the kiss could become more than a kiss. PJ opened her eyes and looked at him, dazed in an attraction-soaked haze that he would have delighted in at any other time. The utter trust and adoration in her eyes made him feel like a heel, especially in light of what he was about to say.

"I need you to do something for me," he said.

She blinked up at him, trying to clear her mind. Her hands came to rest on his chest, her thumbs smoothing over his collarbone. "What is it?"

"I need you to lie."
Chapter 12

Coy King was apparently the master of ceremonies as far as the tree-cutting ritual went. At supper that night, he deemed that the time had come for cutting trees, and he recruited Josh and Ethan as his helpers. Actually he hadn't so much as asked for Ethan's help as Ethan had volunteered his services. Previously he had wanted to be involved in the Christmas preparations, to take part in the King's idyllic celebrations and immerse himself in all things holiday in order to get the full Montana experience. Now he just wanted to get as far from the house as possible.

"We're cutting much later this year," Coy said cheerfully as they tromped through waste deep snow a quarter mile from the house. "With the women being so sick, everything is thrown off. Usually the trees are up and the house is full of the scents of baking cookies." His tone was apologetic and directed toward Ethan.

"But this way I get to be here for the tree-cutting," Ethan said, trying to summon some enthusiasm so Coy didn't think his lackluster attitude had anything to do with the family's belated Christmas season.

"Layla has plans to bake tomorrow," Josh announced. "Sam's going to try to help, and Belle, too. I think they've recruited PJ, also. I hope she makes those things we like."

Ethan was curious about what the things were, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. Any mention of PJ was too painful right now.

Coy remained wisely silent. Ethan wondered how much of the story he knew. After his discussion in the barn with PJ, she had closeted herself away with Ivy for the afternoon. Had Coy overheard any of the story or had Ivy told him? Ethan hoped not; he would feel ridiculous. Still, supper had been a tense and silent standoff, so everyone must have noticed something was up. Everyone but Josh, apparently.

"What's up with you and PJ?" he blurted.

"Nothing," Ethan said sincerely, dismally.

"But you and your girlfriend broke up, right?" he pressed.

"Yes," Ethan said, his tone turning bitter. Chrissy was turning out to be more of a demanding diva than he could have realized. She didn't seem to care that the women in the family were barely back on their feet, and she also seemed to think she was staying at a four star resort. She hadn't stopped complaining since she emerged from her room this morning. "I'm sorry about her," he added.

"You can't apologize for someone else's bad behavior," Coy said.

"Yes, but I brought her here. I had no idea she was so...or maybe I did, but chose to ignore it anyway."

"A pretty face can have that effect," Josh said. "I used to date a girl who was...well, let's just say I'm glad I married Sam." He shuddered, thinking about the girl who got away. "If you broke up, why is she staying here?"

Ethan wasn't sure how to explain. Josh and Coy didn't know about their brother's secret occupation. How could he possibly explain the convoluted situation to them when he didn't understand it himself? He certainly hadn't done a good job of trying to explain it to PJ. He could still see the dismay in her eyes and hear it in her tone.

" _You want me to lie?" she had said, easing out of his embrace._

" _Would you believe me if I told you it was for a good cause?" he asked, sounding almost as desperate as he felt. He watched as both the adoration and the trust slowly faded from her eyes._

" _No, I'm not sure I would," she said, easing farther away from him._

They stared at each other in a silent standoff. He so badly wanted to explain things to her, to tell her he was protecting Cam. But he couldn't. He was sworn to secrecy, and he didn't feel comfortable revealing the secret, not even to PJ. If Belle was back to full strength, he could confer with her and strategize, but she was too weak and too sick. He would have to handle this problem himself. The only way he knew how to do that was to put Chrissy off until they returned to New York. Then their lawyers could handle it. And the only way he knew to put Chrissy off was to use PJ as a diversion. But how to explain all that to PJ?

" _The situation is complex, but it would really help me if you would do this, if you would pretend to be Suzanne Rey, just until Chrissy returns to New York. Please," he added, reaching for her hand._

She moved her hand behind her back, out of his reach. "No," she said slowly. "I don't think I can do it; in fact, I'm positive I can't. Even if I knew the slightest way to pretend to be an author, I wouldn't. I won't lie for any reason, or for any person."

Ethan had felt a gulf opening between them as he watched her shore up her emotional defenses and slip away. It had seemed like ill fate when Grant chose that moment to appear, claiming her attention and diverting her to another stable. She had left without turning to look back at Ethan, and he hadn't talked to her since. She hadn't even looked at him during supper, preferring instead to sit next to Grant and talk to him about horses.

Realistically, he should be happy. He should listen to his head which was telling him to let her go. They had no future together. Even if they somehow worked out the issue between them, what was he supposed to do? Take her to New York with him? Montana was her home and always had been. And, besides, there weren't many open positions for farriers in Manhattan, just like there wasn't much need for an executive assistant in Montana. But every time he thought of letting her go, his gut twisted in agony. He didn't know how, but he loved her. It was so improbable that it was nearly impossible, but he had somehow fallen in love with a woman he had known for only a few days.

"This one looks good," Coy announced, jogging Ethan back to the present. He looked around, noting they were in the middle of a large field of evergreen trees.

"It's tall," he noted.

"It's for the main house," Coy said as he knelt and began to saw. Ethan stood back, feeling extraneous while Coy and Josh loaded the tree on the sledge. He thought they were done, but then the brothers turned back toward the trees.

"Now we need one for Cade and Layla's place and our place," Coy said. "Plus I'm going to get one for our bedroom so Ivy will be able to look at it."

Ethan smiled, thinking that was a sweet idea, and then he immediately decided to steal it. "Do you think it's possible that I could take one for PJ's room?"

Coy looked around at the seemingly endless mass of pine trees. "I think we could probably spare another."

Ethan laughed, feeling almost giddy. Maybe a grand, romantic gesture would get him back in PJ's good graces. While Coy was cutting Ivy's tree, Ethan scouted the area looking for the perfect tree. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he would know it when he saw it, and then he did. A six foot white pine tree stood alone, it's long needles swaying softly in the breeze. It reminded him of PJ somehow as it stood graceful and alone.

When Coy was finished with the saw, Ethan used it to cut down his tree, and the brothers helped him secure it to the sledge.

"Does anyone have any ideas how I'm going to slip this thing into PJ's room and set it up without her knowing?" Ethan asked as they began the long trip back to the house.

"Maybe you should ask Grant," Coy suggested. "The Honeywells are especially talented at being sneaky. It's weird. They're so big, you'd think they would make a lot of noise, but they're silent like ninjas. You never know where you're going to find one or what he's going to be doing." He shuddered.

"I don't think I'll ask Grant for help," Ethan replied coolly. He didn't want Grant anywhere near PJ or this project. In fact, he wanted to do the project himself as a sort of penance. He hated having PJ think less of him.

It was still early in the evening when they arrived at the house. Josh rooted around in a storage barn until he located an extra tree stand and lights. Ethan hadn't even thought of that stuff, so focused had he been on securing a tree.

"I don't think we have any extra ornaments," Josh said. "Not that you'd want them, anyway. They're all personalized—our mom was really into the ornament thing."

"Lights will be perfect," Ethan replied. "Thanks, Josh."

"Good luck," Josh said. "I had to do a whole lot of penance when Sam and I got together. This may surprise you, but I was kind of a jerk"

Ethan wisely didn't reply to that. "Whatever you did must have worked because now she's having your baby. Maybe I should be asking you for advice."

Josh chuckled. "I wouldn't do that. I think I only work with Sam. Anyone else and I would mess it up for sure. Good luck, Ethan."

"Thanks, Josh," Ethan replied, feeling like they were clearing the air a bit. He hoped Josh was finally letting go of his jealousy. Ethan had only been vaguely interested in Sam, and that had been a few years ago.

He felt anxious as he waited for PJ to go to bed, and even more so when he saw her talking endlessly to Grant. They sat close on the couch, laughing and swapping horse stories. At last she finally said goodnight—to everyone but him—and went into her room. He waited another hour before turning out the hall light and peeking into her room, feeling a bit like a creepy stalker. She didn't stir or turn to look at him. He hoped that meant she was a heavy sleeper.

Slowly and silently he brought in the tree stand and set it in a corner. Next he returned with the tree, freezing in place when he bumped something and made a noise. PJ didn't stir, and he continued with his task. It wasn't easy to set up the tree by himself, especially because he couldn't tell if it was leaning when he screwed it in place, but he got it as straight as he could in the darkness. He hadn't thought adding the water would be the trickiest part, but it was. How was he supposed to carry a bucket of water across a dark room and pour it into something he couldn't see without making a sound? In the end he used the light from his watch as a guide. It was dim, but the room was so dark it shone like a beacon.

At last the base was set and it was time to string the lights. He did so, and then realized he had no idea where a plug was. Shining his watch toward the wall, he located one, but it was too far away for the small length of light cord to reach. Instead of starting the lights over, he scooted the tree, inching it toward the plug. When it was at last in reach, he plugged it in. He waited breathlessly to see if PJ would wake up. If she did, that would be okay. She would see that he had set up the tree for her. Maybe they could kiss and make up, literally. But she didn't stir. In fact, she began to snore softly and Ethan smiled at this small proof that she wasn't perfect.

With his task at last completed, Ethan slipped across the hall into his room. A glance at the clock showed it to be past one. He got into bed, exhausted, and quickly fell asleep, still thinking of a job well done.
Chapter 13

There were furious whispers in the hallway. Ethan's eyes popped open and glanced at the clock. It was four. Wondering if maybe PJ had found her tree and been alarmed, he decided to check the hallway. He opened the door and saw PJ, bent over and wheezing with Josh on one side of her and Cam on the other.

"What is it? What happened?" Ethan asked, exiting his room and going forward.

"Apparently PJ is severely allergic to white pine," Josh said, his tone almost apologetic. "Sam went to her room to get her inhaler."

"PJ, I'm sorry," Ethan said, going forward and bending down so he could see her face which was red with the effort of trying to breathe. "I had no idea. If I had known..." He trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

Sam returned then and placed PJ's inhaler in her hand. She stood, squirting the inhaler and trying to get a deep breath. Ethan winced at the liquid sound of her lungs. She sounded as miserable as she felt. What felt like an agonizingly long time later, she was finally able to get a full breath.

"Now what?" Josh asked. "She can't go back in that room until we get it cleaned out and fumigated."

"I'm taking her to the hospital to get her checked out," Ethan said decisively, though he had no idea where the hospital was.

PJ shook her head. "That's not necessary. I can bunk at Ivy and Coy's for the rest of the night."

"No," Ethan said, a little too forcefully. Grant was at Ivy and Coy's. "I'm taking you to the hospital for my own peace of mind, and I'll pay for the visit. I'm the one who did this to you. At the very least they can give you a breathing treatment. You still sound wheezy."

"The hospital is a couple of hours away," she protested.

"Then we'd better hurry. Let me just put on a shirt," he looked down, realizing with embarrassment that he was only wearing boxer shorts.

"You'd better add some pants to that mix," Cam said wryly.

"Yes, okay," Ethan said dutifully. He returned to his room and dressed, taking care to put his wallet in his pocket. When he reached for his keys, he realized he didn't have any; he had no car here. He opened the door, prepared to ask Cam to borrow something, when Cam presented him with a set of keys.

"It's the gray truck, not to be confused with the silver one. Just hit the auto lock button, and you'll know which one it is," Cam said, pointing him toward the equipment barn.

"Thanks, Cam," Ethan said. If it was anyone but Cam, Ethan would have felt bad about borrowing a vehicle and making a four hour round trip, but over the years he and Cam had become good friends. Now he counted Cam as family, and he hoped Cam felt the same.

"No problem," Cam said easily.

"How's Belle?" Ethan asked.

"Sleeping like a baby," Cam replied, which was worrisome in itself. Belle was a light sleeper.

"Maybe all the years of work have finally caught up with her and she's getting some much-needed rest," Ethan suggested.

"I suppose," Cam said, sounding worried and not at all convinced.

PJ emerged from the bathroom then, fully dressed, and they headed toward the barn. Ethan pulled open the heavy door and saw four large pickup trucks, exactly alike except for color. Two looked almost exactly alike, and he wasn't sure which was gray and which was silver. The auto lock button made the choice for him, and they walked to Cam's truck. Ethan opened PJ's door and would have helped her inside, but she beat him to it and easily vaulted up.

"You don't have to do this, Ethan," she said when he was inside the truck.

"I do," he replied. "It's my fault you had the asthma attack, and I want to make sure you're okay. I'm really sorry, by the way."

"Don't be sorry," she said softly. "It was a really nice gesture. Even though I couldn't breathe, I appreciated the beauty of the tree for a minute before my eyes started to swell shut."

Ethan laughed. "That's horrible."

She laughed and coughed. Ethan winced. "You sound awful. Do you get these attacks often?"

She shook her head. "I generally know to avoid white pine. I wasn't expecting one to be in my room. I'm glad I had my inhaler." She turned to look out her window. A few seconds later, he realized she was laughing. Hard.

"You're laughing at my grand romantic gesture, aren't you?" he asked.

She nodded, swiping at tears of amusement. "White pine is the only thing I'm allergic to. It's just uncanny that, of all the trees in the forest, you pick the one that could kill me." She bent double, laughing harder.

Ethan shook his head. "I can't win in Montana," he said. "This state has it out for me. Come to New York, and I promise you legitimate romance that won't send you to the hospital."

Her laughter faded. She turned to look out the window. "Let's go back to being friends again, Ethan," PJ said. She sounded sad and hurt and disappointed—a devastating combination.

"If that's what you want, PJ," Ethan said, his tone laced with disappointment. Not only because he wanted to be so much more than friends, but because he knew she didn't even want to be friends. He had let her down, and she was politely trying to tell him she wanted nothing more to do with him.

They finished the drive to the hospital in silence. By now the sun was rising, and they were both feeling sleepy. PJ dozed while they waited their turn in the hospital's waiting room. Her head tipped against the wall. Ethan wanted to tell her to lean on him, but he was afraid there was such a distance between them now that he had lost the right even to be a pillow.

At last their turn was called. Ethan remained uncertainly behind, not sure if he should go into the exam room with PJ.

"This will probably take a while," she said, putting him out of his indecisive misery. "The breathing treatments take some time. Why don't you go grab something to eat?"

"Okay," he said. He remained seated, watching her until she disappeared, and then he stood and stretched. He should at least grab a cup of coffee if he intended to stay awake on the long drive home. As he headed toward the cafeteria, he passed by the gift shop. The store was just opening, and Ethan popped inside, though he had no mind to buy anything.

He walked through the small aisles, browsing the gum and candy. He paused in front of the magazine selection, wondering if he should buy something for PJ. Was it appropriate to buy a present for someone after you triggered an attack that sent them to the hospital?

At the thought of presents, he remembered Christmas. Somehow, he would need to shop for PJ in the two remaining days before Christmas, but how? He didn't expect to find an answer to that question in the middle of a hospital gift shop, but he did.

As he turned to leave, his attention was snagged by a jewelry display near the counter. A pamphlet told him the jewelry was made by a local artist, but the pieces were as beautiful and intricate as anything Ethan had seen in New York. They were unique, and he knew PJ would like them. The prices were a bit steep, but he didn't care. He plunked down the money for a necklace along with a gift bag and tissue paper. He had just finished hiding his purchases in Cam's truck when PJ emerged, looking perkier and sounding less wheezy.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded. "Did you eat?"

"No. Want to grab something?"

"Okay," she replied. "I'm starting to get really hungry."

"Me, too," he said. He drove to a café they had passed on their way to the hospital. Once they were seated, however, the ensuing silence felt awkward.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Ethan said after a few minutes of staring at the menu. "And I'm really sorry about everything."

"Ethan, it's fine. Please stop apologizing."

The waitress came to take their order then. When she left, Ethan pitched about for something to say. Maybe if he told her the truth, at least as much as possible, it might help her understand where he was coming from. "PJ, I grew up in a nice middle-class family in Ohio. My family is conservative and old fashioned with church on Sundays and family dinner at my Grandma's house. I didn't hate my life, but I didn't respect it. It was too simple for me, too provincial. The big city was calling my name, and I was sure that career success and ambition were the secret of a happy life.

"So I left Ohio when I graduated high school, and I attended college in Brooklyn. And I loved it. New York was everything I thought it would be and more. Not only that, but I slowly started to slip away from the values I had been raised with. Going back to my parents to visit began to feel like a chore. I loved them, but at the same time I thought they were backwards by not keeping up with the modern world.

"I graduated college and prepared to set Wall Street on fire, but I couldn't break in there. The only job I could find was as a secretary in the firm where I now work. Believe it or not, even though I'm still a secretary, I'm much higher than when I first started out. I was the lowest person on the totem pole.

"Belle was hired, and she was my underling. We didn't work directly together, but for a while she was the new kid, and I was senior secretary. Then she was promoted to a literary agent, and I became her secretary." He paused, sighing. "That's when I decided that I had been wrong. A successful career wasn't the key to life; it was a successful marriage partner. I began serial dating, looking for Ms. Perfect, constantly trading up in my quest to find 'the one.' I thought Chrissy might be it, and then I get here and discover she's, well, you know.

"I realize that telling you all this is a risk. It doesn't make me seem like a stable person or a good risk. But the reason I'm telling you is because I feel like I've received a blow to the head and finally come to my senses. My whole life I've run from the values and ideals that have made me who I am. But I'm done running. I'm ready to be the person my parents raised me to be, and I want to do that with you. I'm in love with you, and I'm asking that, despite everything, you trust me."

In answer, PJ fled the restaurant.

Ethan was just getting ready to go after her when he looked up in disbelief to see Grant bearing down on him, PJ at his side.

"What are you doing here?" Ethan blurted, not caring how rude he sounded.

"I came into town to do some last minute Christmas shopping and ran into PJ on the sidewalk. Small world," Grant said, sitting down in the middle chair between PJ and Ethan.

"Isn't it, though," Ethan said.

"I'm just going to go freshen up," PJ said, avoiding eye contact. The two men watched her walk away. Ethan sighed.

"What do you suppose a woman like PJ wants for Christmas?" Grant asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

"A new awl," Ethan said, stifling any guilt he might have felt. PJ had said she wanted a new awl. It wasn't his fault that it was the least romantic gift in the world. Absently, he glanced at the truck where he had hidden her present, secure in the knowledge that he had something properly romantic. Grant was on his own.

"I heard some people talking about PJ in the feed store," Grant said, perusing his menu.

Ethan tensed. "What did they say?"

Grant shrugged. "Nothing bad, but I got the impression they don't see her as awoman." He set his menu down, frowning.

"How is that possible?" Ethan asked.

"I don't know," Grant said, equally as incredulous. "Some people can't see beyond the outside package."

"What's wrong with the outside package?" Ethan asked. PJ was beautiful.

"Nothing as far as I can see. But some men like their women to be girly. You know how it is."

"I guess," Ethan said, disconcerted not only because he and Grant agreed on something, but because they were bordering on a philosophical discussion. About PJ of all people. Time for a topic change.

"Aren't you sad to be away from your family this Christmas?" The Honeywells were a tight knit group, especially the brothers.

Grant shrugged, looking almost sad. "I miss them, but I get to be with my baby sister. And I like the Kings. For Yankees, they're good people. And, you know, sometimes it's nice to get away and meet new people." He glanced toward the bathroom where PJ had gone.

_He's definitely on the prowl,_ Ethan thought. His certainty grew when PJ returned and Grant stood to help her with her chair. Not only was he competing with Grant for PJ's affections, but he had to deal with Chrissy who was turning out to be the human equivalent of an atomic bomb. And now PJ wanted nothing to do with him.

His dream holiday was quickly turning into a nightmare vacation. Ethan held Montana responsible, resenting the state for opening his eyes to his unhappiness. If he had stayed in New York, he would have remained blissfully unaware of how miserable and shallow his life had become. But, no, he had to flee to the country where things were simple, honest, and slow-paced enough to allow time for reflection. And he didn't like what that reflection had showed him. Somehow over the last decade he had turned into one of the people he had loathed when he arrived in New York.

Fresh off the farm from Ohio, Ethan had been a starry-eyed college freshman. But it hadn't taken him long to see what effect the city could have. Despite the fact that he longed for excitement and adventure, he vowed never to be one of those people who lost his way and simply existed, keeping up with the Jones's as if one-upping everyone else was the most important thing in life. But that was exactly what he had turned into. His clothes had to be the best, his haircut cost as much as a car payment, he spent untold amounts on fancy coffee drinks whose name he couldn't pronounce just because it was what everyone else did. His evenings were spent with people he barely knew and couldn't care less about at fancy restaurants he could barely afford. No wonder he lived in such a tiny apartment; he spent all his money on insubstantial things that didn't matter. And what did he have to show for it? Absolutely nothing.

He realized now why spending time with Belle and Cam had come to mean so much to him the last few years; it was because they were real. They might be fabulously wealthy, but unless you had access to their tax returns—and Ethan did—then you would never know how much they had in the bank. They lived simply; their only luxury was the private jet that took them back and forth from Manhattan to Montana. It wasn't just the money, though. They espoused simple values like honesty, loyalty, kindness, and goodness. Things Ethan had been raised with and turned his back on. He had thought Belle and Cam meant so much to him because they were good friends, and that was partially true. But the truth was that they meant so much to him because they were a representation of the family he had left behind. They were real; he was not, not anymore.

And now, like a character who takes off a costume, he was once again himself. Somehow the blinders had been ripped off and Ethan was seeing things clearly again. Not only that, but what he saw he didn't like. His life was all wrong. He was tired of his tiny apartment, tired of his job where he had hit the figurative ceiling long ago, tired of the hustle and bustle of Manhattan. True, there were a lot of things he loved about the city, but smog, traffic, and busyness were not among them. He was tired, he wasn't getting any younger, and he was ready to settle down. Not only that, but he wanted to settle down with the woman beside him. Though she was almost a decade younger and totally out of reach, he wanted to marry her and have children with her. He wanted to teach his children to ride horses—after he learned how himself, of course—and have a million happy memories together as they built a family.

All these thoughts were swirling in his head as PJ and Grant carried the conversation. Ethan's hopelessness grew. What was he going to do? How could he begin to fix some of the destruction he had caused? First things first, he had to get rid of Chrissy. Maybe with her gone he might stand a chance of convincing PJ to trust him again. His mind began to plot the best way to get rid of the other woman. At last he hatched the perfect plan, but a television in the corner of the café caught his attention, dashing all his plans. A freak blizzard blanketed the eastern half of the United States. New York City was completely shut down. For now, Chrissy wasn't going anywhere.
Chapter 14

PJ fell asleep on the way back to the King's ranch. Not that it mattered much, anyway. Ethan was fairly certain she was no longer talking to him. Why, though? Was it because she felt awkward after his declaration of love? Or was it because she didn't believe him? He could see how she might not be willing to trust him after he admitted he had never been serious with anyone and asked her to lie to Chrissy for him.

He sighed, gripping the steering wheel tight. Who was he kidding? He had made a mess of everything. If he were PJ, he would tell him to take a hike. PJ hadn't told him to take a hike, though. Did that count for anything? Or was he so desperate that he was reading too much into her politeness? She hadn't actually said anything when he told her he loved her. True, she had fled the room and that wasn't usually a good sign. But she hadn't said she didn't love him in return. Was it possible there was still hope? He glanced at her sleeping profile, wanting nothing more than to pull the truck over and take her in his arms. What if he did? What if he pulled over and kissed her until she responded?

For a few seconds, he was tempted to do just that, and then he realized that wouldn't be fair to PJ. She was inexperienced. He didn't want to chance confusing and overwhelming her. He would need to be careful, to build up an emotional base between them before things turned physical. Otherwise she might someday resent him for taking advantage of her innocence. This was the mother of his future children, and therefore it was worth taking his time to woo her correctly. What he needed was to stop thinking like New York Ethan and begin thinking like Ohio Ethan. Once he had been as naïve, wholesome and pure as PJ was. It was time to get back to that.

PJ didn't wake when they returned to the farm. Ethan parked Cam's truck and opened his door, and still she didn't stir. He walked around to the passenger side and opened her door, touching her lightly on the arm and she startled awake.

"We're here," he said gently, uncertainly.

She blinked at him in confusion a few times. "That was fast," she said,

He smiled. "You slept the whole way."

"I'm sorry," she replied, rubbing her palms against her eye sockets. She took a deep breath and tried to focus again. Ethan put up a hand to help her down, and she took it, stepping gingerly from the tall truck. Once outside the vehicle, he didn't let her go. Despite his earlier intentions to be good, he was overwhelmed with the desire to kiss her. Dropping her hand, he slid his arms around her and pressed her against the truck's cab. She responded, sliding her arms around his neck.

"I meant what I said, PJ. I do love you. I know I've made a mess of everything, but I'm going to fix it, somehow. Please don't shut me out and turn away. Please give me a chance to make things right. I know you're confused, and I wish I could explain, but I can't."

He saw the conflict in her eyes, and he took that as a good sign. At least she was thinking about it, weighing the pros and cons of believing in him. That gave him hope that all wasn't lost.

"I'm not going to kiss you," he said softly. "I want to, but it wouldn't be fair for me to press the attraction between us when you're undecided. When you're ready, you can kiss me."

She laughed and he let her go. "No one has ever invited me to kiss him before," PJ said, regaining some of her missing equilibrium. She took a breath and looked around the vast barn. "Everything feels surreal, Ethan."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I've never..."

He didn't get to hear what she had never done because the outside door opened and Cam hurried inside. "Good, you're back. Ethan, can you help me with Belle? She won't stop crying." With that, he turned and fled back to the house again.

Ethan looked at PJ, but she didn't look as surprised or concerned as he would have expected. She didn't know Belle as well as he did, though, and therefore had no idea how monumental Cam's words had been. Belle wouldn't stop crying? What could possibly be the cause of that?

"We'll talk more later," Ethan promised, hurrying away to catch up with Cam. "Why is she crying?" he asked when he reached his boss's husband.

Cam shrugged, running his hand haphazardly through his hair. "It was a commercial about a dog, and not even a sad one. All she would say was 'fluffy,' and then she burst into tears."

"Oh, geez," Ethan said when they walked into the house. He could hear Belle's stifled weeping from the entryway, and it only grew worse the nearer they drew to her room. When Cam opened the door, she was lying facedown on her mattress, still in her pajamas, and crying uncontrollably.

"Belle, honey, Ethan's here," Cam said gently.

"Fluffy," Belle said, pounding her fist into the mattress.

"Belle, pull yourself together," Ethan said sternly. Cam was trying gentleness and it wasn't working; maybe what Belle needed was a little tough love. When she rolled over onto her back and looked at him, he thought maybe it was working. "Who is Fluffy?"

"My dog," she said, sniffling. Her face was swollen and blotched with tears.

"What dog?" Cam asked, going forward to sit beside her on the bed.

"The dog I had when I was four. I told you about him," she replied, her tone impatient.

He shook his head. "I never knew you had a dog. I didn't think you liked them."

"I don't. I hated that dog. He was such a good dog." Her face crumpled, and she burst into tears again.

Cam looked helplessly at Ethan over his wife's inert form. Belle rolled over again, pressing her face into his lap. "What is wrong with her?" Cam asked.

Suddenly somehow Ethan knew. "I'm not sure it's my place to say."

"Whatever it is just tell me, Ethan," Cam begged, and Ethan realized he thought it was bad news. Maybe to Belle it would be, but certainly not to Cam.

"Maybe she has what Sam has," Ethan let the words hang as Cam fastened hold of them, his jaw dropping with surprise.

"We did have the same virus," Belle said, "only she's getting better, and I'm getting crazier." She burst into a renewed round of weeping. Cam leaned down to whisper in her ear, and she sat up, moving away from him.

"That's not possible. We're not thirty," she declared.

Cam laughed and Ethan backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. He wished Cam luck in trying to convince his wife that having a baby four years before her scheduled time was a good thing. _Belle, a mom,_ he thought, shaking his head. He tried and failed to picture it. Motherhood could either make her or break her. Either she would expect the baby to be as regimented and disciplined as she was, or she would learn to mellow out. He hoped it was the latter.

_I'll miss seeing her blossom into motherhood,_ he thought, and that was when he realized he was going to quit his job. Until then it had simply been rhetorical thinking on his part. He had no plan and no idea what to do next, but now that he realized a change was in order, he would have to find something else. Maybe he would move out of the city entirely. Could he go back to Ohio? He didn't know, but the thought was more enthralling than repugnant to him. Then he remembered the reason for all these changes and knew where he needed to be; he would have to figure out something to do right here because this was where PJ was.

As he was heading back outside to talk to her, Chrissy stepped from her room, blocking his path in a threatening manner. "Are you and your little girlfriend ready for my interview now?" she hissed, hands on hips.

Ethan stopped short in front of her, staring down in surprise. In the rush of PJ's emergency and Belle's crying jag, he had forgotten that Chrissy still needed to be dealt with. "PJ doesn't want to do an interview with you," he said truthfully.

"You said you would make it happen, Ethan," Chrissy said, her tone accusing. "You know what this means; I meant what I said, I'll go forward with as much as I know, and, one way or another, Suzanne Rey's private little world is over. You can do it the easy way or the hard way."

"New York is shut down, Chrissy," Ethan said. "You can't get ahold of anyone today and tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Even if this story is at the top of your agenda right now, everyone else in the world is focused on Christmas."

"Fine, I'll wait until we get back to New York. But if you think I'm letting this go, then you don't know me at all. You'd do well to talk to her once more and try to get her to come around."

Ethan blew out a frustrated breath, feeling stuck in the middle. He couldn't ask PJ to lie again, not only because she wouldn't do it but also because she firmly believed he was a worthless heel for asking the first time. He couldn't consult with Belle about the situation when she was half out of her head already, and he didn't want to burden Cam with anything else when his plate was already full with Belle. No, Chrissy was Ethan's problem, and he had to figure out how to deal with her.

"Just give me a little more time and be patient," he said. "And try to stay out of everyone's way and not be any more of a nuisance than you already are."

"I am not a nuisance," she insisted.

How was it possible that her feelings actually looked hurt at his statement? Did she really not have any idea what she was like? "Chrissy, you've been nothing but a misery since we arrived in Montana. You're an entitled, spoiled brat, and I blame myself for inflicting you on this undeserving family." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving her staring after him in dismay.
Chapter 15

Somehow PJ evaded him for the rest of the day. Ethan wasn't sure, but he thought Grant may have been helping her, either purposely or not. All he knew was that wherever PJ was, Grant was, and neither of them was talking to him.

On Christmas Eve, he woke with a sense of panic. His visit was almost at an end. PJ wasn't talking to him. Chrissy was breathing down his neck, and when he arrived home he would have to start looking for another job. He lay in his comfortable guest bed, staring at the ceiling for a long time. Something good had to happen today. At the very least he needed to figure out what to do about Chrissy and make some inroads with PJ.

When he got out of bed, however, a different problem resolved itself. Almost as soon as he stepped out of his room, Cam caught his attention and asked to speak to him. Ethan knew it must be serious because Cam led him to his office across the snowy courtyard, waiting to speak until the door was closed.

"How's Belle doing?" Ethan asked, thinking Belle's continued displeasure was the only thing that could cause such a confidential conference.

"You know Belle," Cam said, waving his hand dismissively. "She doesn't handle change well, especially when it involves changing long-standing plans or disrupting her work. She'll come around eventually and be excited about the baby. I think. I hope."

"She will," Ethan said confidently. Belle might be a nutty control freak, but she had a big, soft heart, and she loved Cam very much. Eventually she would get on board with the baby plan. "She'll probably have the nursery renovated and the baby's preschool picked out by the time New Year's is over."

"She was looking at preschools on the internet last night," Cam said, smiling widely. There was no doubt in Ethan's mind about whether Cam was happy over the baby news. He was practically glowing. "That's sort of what I want to talk to you about. Belle's not going to be able to travel as much to New York. When she gets too far along and then for a while after the baby arrives, she's going to be stuck here. We both know what that's going to be like." Cam paused while he and Ethan shuddered. A cooped up Belle wasn't pleasant for anyone to imagine. "I've been doing a lot of thinking since you revamped my office. For a long time now, I've needed an office manager. Having you here would go a long way toward easing Belle's temporary transition away from Manhattan. I know your job is pretty fancy and important, but I was wondering if you might consider..."

"I'll do it," Ethan said, interrupting him before he could make the job offer.

Cam paused, looking at him in surprise. "You do know I was going to ask you to move to Montana and work here for me and Belle, right?"

Ethan nodded.

"You're not stupid, Ethan, but I feel the need to drive this point home; Montana isn't Manhattan. It's not for everyone. Winter has only just begun. There's not a lot of nightlife, there's no sushi. It's just us and the cows."

"I'll do it. I want to live here."

"You're sure?" Cam asked.

Ethan laughed. "Cam, you made the offer. Why are you surprised that I'm accepting?"

"I thought I would have to be persuasive and beg if need be."

"You can still beg," Ethan said. "In fact, I'd sort of like to see that."

Cam laughed, looking relieved. "Maybe later." He sat back templing his fingers under his chin. "Does this have anything to do with PJ?"

Ethan sighed. "Yes and no. PJ has been the catalyst for a closer examination of my life. I don't like the person I am in New York, and I'm ready for a change. But as it stands now, she won't talk to me. And for the last couple of days she and Grant have been inseparable."

"Grant won't leave Kentucky, and PJ won't leave Montana. I wouldn't worry too much about them. Why won't she talk to you?" The question "what did you do to her" was unspoken but implied.

"It was a misunderstanding of epic proportions," Ethan said. "I'm desperate to try and make amends, but I can't get close to her."

"I might have the perfect solution," Cam said. "It's something so romantic that it melts Belle's heart every year. We'll hook up the sled and you can take her for a ride. My brothers and I will distract Grant, and you can kidnap her if need be."

"I might have to. I think she hates me."

Cam spread his hands on the desk. "If you're moving to Montana, you'll have a lot of time to win her back."

"I suppose," Ethan said, feeling uncharacteristically gloomy.

"Buck up," Cam said. "The sleigh ride is foolproof, and I promise we'll keep Grant distracted. It's about time we pulled one over on a Honeywell." He rubbed his hands together as if he was enjoying the prospect a little too much.

Ethan had no idea what the brothers did to distract Grant, but whatever it was it worked because he was nowhere in sight when he stepped off the porch and saw PJ waiting for him in front of the sleigh. The sleigh itself was beautiful, like something from a Christmas movie, complete with leather straps adorned with jingling bells. The exterior was black, the interior lined with red velvet. There was a plaid lap blanket lying on the seat. The horses were perfectly groomed and noble as they awaited their passengers. But all of that paled in comparison to PJ.

Her hair was down, hanging well past her shoulders, and covered on top by a creamy knit cap. Her grey suede boots were knee high and her scarf looked hand knit. Her cheeks were red from the cold, as were her lips. Ethan's gaze fastened there and lingered as he walked toward her. She would never pass for a New York fashion plate, but he found her perfect in every way.

"Thanks for agreeing to do this with me," he said. He wanted to reach for her, to kiss her, to get down on his knees and beg for another chance, but he didn't do any of that. Instead he smiled as he held out his hand to her, helping her into the sleigh.

He took the reins exactly as Josh had showed him that afternoon. He was such a novice that the brothers made him spend the afternoon practicing how to drive. Ethan found it humorous that they had handed over a truck without a care but spent hours teaching him how to drive a team of horses around their ranch.

"This is lovely," PJ said, sounding as swept away as Ethan hoped she was.

"You're lovely," he said sincerely, turning to look into her eyes lest she doubt his sincerity. He didn't want her to think he was using a line--not on her, not ever.

Now it was her turn to drop her gaze to his lips. The look was quick, but he saw it, and he smiled. Maybe she hated him, but she didn't hate his kisses. Somehow, he had to use that to his advantage.

They had just started to move when the plan fell apart.

"Wait, wait, I'm coming with you."

Ignoring Chrissy who was yelling from the porch, Ethan attempted to speed up the horses. But either he was doing it wrong or the horses ignored him because even though Chrissy was navigating the shin-deep snow in her too-high heels, she somehow managed to catch up with them, forcing Ethan to move over until PJ was squished.

"Whew, I almost missed you guys," she said.

Ethan was just about to tell her to shove off when the horses belatedly responded to his earlier command, picking up the pace until they were in a near run, the sleigh skimming so fast it barely touched the snow.

"Whoa," he called, pulling on the reins just as he'd been taught, feeling a bit like Santa, but the horses took their own sweet time slowing down. By the time they did, the sleigh was too far from the house, much too far for Chrissy to walk in her stilts.

"So, Suzanne, now that I have you here, I can ask you some questions," Chrissy said, peering around Ethan to look at PJ. Unbelievably, she took out a pen and paper, prepared to write even though it was cold enough to freeze both her ink and her hand. "What prompted you to write your first novel? Rumor has it that Belle read your short story in a magazine and personally contacted you to become an author. Were you resistant to that idea? If so, why? Why are you so protective of your privacy? What are you trying to hide?" She paused, her hand hovering in midair over her paper.

For a few seconds, PJ simply stared at her in confusion until at last she spoke. "You're not a nice person, and I don't like you. There. I said it."

"Be that as it may, I can promise you a good write up. That's more than you'll get from some people. I heard the editor of _Rolling Stone_ is a fan and dying for an interview. They're notorious for digging up dirt. Better to give me the scoop and save yourself the hassle."

PJ looked helplessly at Ethan. "Why does she think I'm Suzanne Rey?"

"Oooh, you've really got that doe-eyed innocent act down pat. I can answer this one for you," Chrissy said. "It's because I know Ethan. He's ambitious and shallow—no offense, Ethan—and he wouldn't be caught dead with some nothing farrier from the sticks. I also know Suzanne Rey lives in Montana. Call it a hunch, call it deductive reasoning, whatever. The point is that I knew before I came here that the author was somehow connected to the King family. Now I know I was right. So, how much do you get paid per book? Because some people speculate that your first contract was a record breaker."

"Chrissy," Ethan said, his voice tight. "We did not come out here tonight to discuss Suzanne Rey, and you weren't invited on this trip. Let me figure out how to turn these horses around, and then you are going to go home and stay there. And leave PJ alone."

"Please, Ethan," Chrissy laughed. The sound was as brittle as the icicles forming on the nearby trees. "You know that's not going to happen. I always get what I want. I got this far, didn't I? Even though it meant I had to put up with dating you for the last two months. Believe me, I've earned this interview. You are _boring_."

She flung the words as if they were the worst insult in the world. Ethan was more embarrassed than hurt. Why did PJ have to be privy to this? PJ, on the other hand, was laughing.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to regain composure by pressing her mitten over her mouth. "This is just the most bizarre thing that's ever happened to me. I can't not laugh at it." As proof, she giggled again.

The sound, so pure, innocent, and happy, made Ethan laugh in return. "If you want the truth, it's the most bizarre thing that's ever happened to me, too. My life isn't this interesting in Manhattan."

"No, it's not," Chrissy added. "It's boring. You're boring." The way she angrily drew out the word only added to PJ and Ethan's hilarity. If he didn't know better, he might think Chrissy was purposely trying to make them laugh. "I am freezing," she added. "Can't you make this thing go any faster? Stupid horses." She glared at them before lunging for the reins.

Ethan had predicted her, though, and wisely moved them out of her reach. "So help me, Chrissy, try that again and you're walking home."

"I can't walk home from here," she said. "I'll die of hypothermia."

"I'm trying to picture that as a bad thing," PJ said. "I really, really am."

Ethan snickered again and Chrissy glared at him. He was just beginning to think all wasn't lost with this miserable ride when there was an ominous cracking noise. To their right, a large ice-covered branch dropped from a nearby tree, startling the horses who jumped and lunged. Another noise followed. Ethan couldn't place what it was at first, and then he saw the team of horses turn sharply toward the house and run away, leaving the sleigh and its riders stranded in the snow and ice.
Chapter 16

"We're going to die!" Chrissy exclaimed, already sounding on the verge of hysterics.

"You're really a glass-half-empty type woman, aren't you?" PJ asked. Turning her attention to Ethan, she added, "How far do you think we've gone?"

"A couple of miles maybe," he said, though it was hard to be sure with the landscape covered by snow, dotted by trees that all looked very much the same.

"Someone's going to come for us, aren't they? Please tell me someone's going to come for us," Chrissy said, tugging Ethan's sleeve.

"If we agree she needs it, can I be the one to slap her?" PJ asked.

Ethan laughed, shaking free of Chrissy. "No one's going to die. Calm down. We'll just walk back."

"I can't walk back in these." She pointed to her expensive high heels.

"Then wait here and we'll come back for you," PJ suggested.

Chrissy scowled at her. "So I can be eaten by wolves or bears? No, thank you."

"I think wolves and bears are more discriminating about their food," PJ muttered, only loud enough for Ethan to hear.

He fought another laugh as he counted to ten, trying to remain patient with Chrissy. "What do you recommend, Chrissy?"

"You're going to have to carry me, of course," she said.

"I really appreciate the vote of confidence, but I don't think I can carry you two miles in snow this deep."

Chrissy rolled her eyes. "On your back, Ethan. Surely you can carry me on your back. I'm barely over a hundred pounds."

"So 'barely' in New York means thirty pounds," PJ said, unable to resist.

"I do _not_ weigh one thirty," Chrissy practically yelled. "I'm one fifteen, unlike some amazons I won't name." She scowled at PJ's tall frame.

"I weigh one fifty," PJ said proudly. "And I can walk on my own two legs." As if to prove her point, she hopped down from the sleigh, her long legs sinking deep in the snow. With a sigh, Ethan descended from the sleigh and joined her.

"Ladies, let's call a truce," he said as Chrissy geared up for another put down. "Let's all concentrate on getting back to the house, okay?"

They didn't answer, but then he hadn't expected them to. The snow was deep and difficult to wade through. Then Chrissy leapt onto his back, causing him to stagger forward until he almost tumbled face first into a drift.

"Careful," Chrissy snapped.

"This is me remaining silent," PJ said as she stepped around them.

Ethan resisted the urge to groan. _A hundred and fifteen, my foot,_ he thought. Chrissy had to be closer to PJ's guess of one thirty. Not that he would tell her. She would probably use her stiletto as a spur and shove it into his side, urging him along. She might do that anyway. With Chrissy, it was hard to tell. How had he ever thought she was his type? If he had enough air in his lungs to speak, he would have declared his love for PJ again. Not only was she beautiful, but she was a genuinely good person; she was the total package.

Ethan didn't say as much to Chrissy or PJ, but he was beginning to feel his own sense of panic about his odds of making it with Chrissy on his back. He was sweating profusely—a bad thing to do when the temperature hovered somewhere around zero—his legs were burning, and he couldn't draw a full breath with Chrissy's legs wrapped around his midsection, squeezing off his air supply. Just when he felt on the verge of collapse, however, a rescue arrived in the form of Tanner, the King's foreman, and Grant. Grant, of course, showed up barebacked on what Ethan could only assume was a stallion. He looked like he was in the middle of shooting a commercial for cologne, so perfect and brawny was his appearance.

"What happened?" Tanner asked.

"I don't know; the sleigh broke," Ethan said, wheezing the words.

Tanner nodded, staring distractedly in the direction of the sleigh. "I've been wondering if that joint is weak. We're going to have to have it welded."

"Good thing y'all have a blacksmith on site," Grant said, nodding at PJ. "C'mon and ride with me, sugar, and we'll go take a look at it." He held out his hand to PJ who didn't resist the invitation. She easily swung up behind Grant, hugging him around the waist when she was fully seated. Ethan swallowed down a lump of helpless jealousy.

"I can take your rider," Tanner said to Ethan. "Unless you'd rather keep her."

"No," Ethan said, glad to be rid of Chrissy in more ways than one. He lifted her up to Tanner who reached down and settled her behind him.

"So you're a real cowboy," Chrissy purred, her lashes fluttering.

"A married one," Tanner said, barely sparing her a glance. Word of Chrissy's character had spread to the ranch hands, if Tanner's reaction to her was any indication. Chrissy was a beautiful woman whose interest was usually enough to make even the most standoffish man fall all over himself around her.

Clearly perturbed that her charms weren't working, Chrissy set her bottom lip in a pout and didn't say a word on the way home, much to Ethan's relief. It was bad enough that he still had to wade over a mile in the deep snow. He didn't need the sound of Chrissy's yammering to add to his misery.

By the time he arrived back at the farmhouse, he was exhausted. Chrissy was, too, though why was anyone's guess. Maybe being obnoxious took a lot out of a person. She immediately closeted herself in her room and Ethan took a shower, trying to restore warmth and feeling to his numb toes. As he emerged from the shower, Grant and PJ were just returning with the sleigh. He followed them to the barn and watched while PJ forged a new piece for the sleigh.

She made it look so easy, as if anyone could form a piece of iron by sticking it over a flame. Grant was equally impressed and told her so repeatedly while they talked and laughed together. Ethan felt like a third wheel. Occasionally PJ threw him a vague smile, but it was hard to get a word in edgewise with Grant monopolizing the conversation. He seemed to have a million questions for PJ. Most were technical questions about her job that were over Ethan's head. When it looked like they weren't going to finish talking any time soon, he finally gave up and went to bed, secure in the knowledge that the next day was Christmas Eve and he had the perfect present.

The next morning, Christmas Eve, Ethan could barely move when he woke. It took him a minute to remember why he was so sore, and then it all came rushing back; Chrissy had used him as transportation through the deep snow.

"I'm getting old," he muttered as he tried to decide what hurt the most—his legs or his back. Pulling himself out of bed, he hobbled to the kitchen in search of pain reliever and found something better.

PJ sat at the table, drinking her coffee and looking melancholy. The pain in his body forgotten, Ethan sat down beside her. She looked up with a wan smile.

"Missing your dad?" he guessed.

She opened her mouth to reply, and then she was crying. Without hesitation, Ethan moved closer and took her into his arms and—wonder of wonders—she went willingly. There was no weeping, just a gentle shower of tears as she rested her head on his chest and he ran his hand soothingly down her back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't have mentioned it."

"No, don't be sorry," she said, thinking how nice it was to be held and comforted. Even when her father was alive, he hadn't been great at this sort of thing. When she was a very small girl, he had occasionally cuddled her and soothed her hurts, but as she grew those exchanges became a quick hug or a pat on the back. PJ hadn't realized how much she was starving for human touch until she felt it again. Would she react to anyone this way, or was it Ethan? She so badly wanted to give in and love him, to trust him, but she wasn't sure she could.

The fact that he had dated Chrissy in the first place was a strike against him. What did it say about his character that he had dated someone like her? But even if she gave him the benefit of the doubt and assumed that Chrissy had somehow pulled the wool over his eyes, how could she get over the fact that he had asked her to lie and pretend to be someone she wasn't? She realized that he was sworn to secrecy over the true identity of Suzanne Rey, but why not just tell Chrissy he couldn't talk about it and let the chips fall where they may? From PJ's perspective, it could only be his career that he was protecting. He had brought Chrissy here and now she was endangering the secret and Ethan was desperate to keep his job safe. And, in PJ's opinion, that wasn't the sort of man she wanted to be with.

But despite her best resolve, she still felt herself drawn to him with an almost unbearable attraction. It wasn't just that he was handsome; handsome men were a dime a dozen. The problem was that he was kind, thoughtful, and attentive. Or at least that was how he seemed. Which was his true character—the nice guy, or the guy who asked her to lie for him? She didn't know, and until she found out, she couldn't give in to him. He had said that he loved her, but she wasn't sure she believed it. The timing was fast, but that wasn't why she had her doubts. How could handsome, sophisticated Manhattan-based Ethan Prescott love a Montana born and bred farrier like her?

She looked up at him from the circle of his arms, biting her lip as she studied his face. He smiled down at her and her heart flipped over.

"I do love you, you know," he said as if he could read her doubts. His fingers skimmed the side of her face, attempting to tuck a strand of hair back into her ponytail.

_Why?_ She wanted to ask, and, _how?_ But she didn't ask either of those things. She didn't say a word, not even when his lips descended slowly toward hers and kissed her, softly, sweetly.

Kissing had been another revelation for PJ. She had always assumed that she would enjoy it, but she had underestimated how much. And now she was learning that all kissing wasn't the same. It was its own language, able to communicate a thought or feeling without words. Some made her feel woozy as if she were going to fall over when it was finished, and some, like this one, made her feel cherished. Either way, she was always reluctant when they ended, always left wanting more.

When the kiss ended, there was a pleasant sort of silence between them. "Ethan, when do you go back to New York?" PJ asked, thinking that, at the most, she had a couple of days left and then her life would return to normal. Somehow she would have to get over him and move on. Could she do that? Or would she spend the rest of her life pining for what might have been, picturing Ethan with some beautiful, sophisticated New Yorker?

"I wanted to talk to you about that. Cam asked..."

"This is cozy," Chrissy announced as she walked into the room and pulled out the chair beside them. "Don't let me stop you; please, carry on your snuggle session with my boyfriend."

PJ's emotions were too precarious to deal with the horrible woman this morning. It was one thing to cry in front of Ethan, but quite another to lose it front of Chrissy the ice princess. Instead, PJ retreated, extracting herself from Ethan's embrace as she turned and stalked out of the room.

"What is your problem?" Ethan hissed.

"You're carrying on a fling in the ashes of our relationship, and you ask me what my problem is?" Chrissy asked, her pretty blue eyes filling with tears.

"You've already admitted you were using me to get closer to Suzanne, so drop the act, Chrissy. Can you simply not stand to see anyone happy? It's Christmas. Have a heart, and if you can't, then at least shut up so the rest of us can enjoy the day."

Ethan left her before she could think up a reply. He searched the ranch for PJ, but couldn't find her. Eventually he sat on the porch, trying to acquaint himself with his new home state. It was remarkably, breathtakingly beautiful.

In New York, he kept so busy that there was never time to think about his life. The last few days in Montana had provided him with the time to ponder and, while he hadn't always liked what he found out about himself, the mental clarity had brought peace he hadn't even known he was searching for. He was going to like it here; he was sure of it. Maybe he would even learn to ride a horse, lasso, and do all the other things that the King brothers did without thinking.

Eventually he saw PJ again as she exited Ivy's house and headed toward him. Their eyes met and held. Hers were rimmed with red and puffy. Had she been crying with Ivy? Over him?

He stood as she approached. "PJ, I'm sorry about this morning. I..."

She held up a hand, forcing a smile as she cut him off. "It's all right, Ethan," she said resignedly. "We've been over this. You're going back to New York in a couple of days, and it will be as if this whole interlude never happened. Let's just get through it the best we can, okay?"

"But that's what I was trying to tell you. I'm not..."

She shook her head, pressing her lips together. "Please, don't," she choked as she dashed by him and entered the house. He went after her, but when they reached the kitchen, Layla, Sam, and Belle looked up at them.

"You're just in time," Layla said with a smile for PJ. She and Sam stood at the counter, butter, flour, eggs, and sugar spread before them. "Ready to bake?"

PJ nodded, her forced smile firmly in place. Belle sat at the table, wanly leaning on one elbow. Ethan sat beside her.

"How are you holding up, Boss?"

"This baby's trying to kill me, Ethan," she said, her voice as flat and gray as her pallor. "I'm sick every minute, and I'm so tired. I've fallen asleep four times this morning. How am I going to go back to New York like this?" Her eyes were watery with unshed tears.

"You don't have to go back, Belle. Work from here until the sickness passes."

"I can't be here that long. It's okay for the short term, but I don't have an assistant here, and I can't do it on my own." She cast him a furtive look. "I don't suppose you would maybe want to..." She broke off, shaking her had. "Never mind. It's crazy. You'd never leave your life in New York. Would you?" She gave him a pathetic look from her peripheral vision as if afraid he would say no if she looked directly at him.

"Maybe," he said, unable to resist the urge to toy with her a little.

She grasped his hand in both hers. "Are you serious?" she whispered. "What can I do to make you agree? Please, Ethan, I'll do anything. Take your salary in New York and add twenty percent."

Ethan choked on a laugh. "Don't you think you'd better check with Cam about this?"

Her eyes narrowed. "He got me pregnant years ahead of schedule. He owes me this."

"Are you really going to hold it against him, Belle? Aren't you at all excited about the baby?"

Belle looked around to make sure her sisters-in-law were out of earshot. "I'm terrified, Ethan. For the first time in my life, I think I'm going to be really bad at something. I have no idea what to do with a baby."

"Belle, who organizes those toy drives at work every Christmas?"

"That's different, Ethan. That's organizing. I can do that; I'm good at that."

"My point is that, until you came along, no one thought of doing such a thing. You like to pretend you're heartless, but you're not. You have a soft heart, a mother's heart, and you're going to do great."

"I don't know how," Belle said, sounding uncertain for the first time since he'd known her. Belle was a perfectionist, the type who did everything perfectly or didn't do it at all.

"You're not going to be a perfect mom," Ethan said.

"Gee, thanks, Ethan," Belle said, wiping her watery eyes.

He smiled. "But who wants that? Can you imagine how intimidating it would be to have a perfect mom? You know you're different here than when you're in New York. Think about it—would you want New York Belle as a mom? Or do you want Montana Belle, the one who's quirky and funny and not quite right all the time? And it's not like you're alone here." He glanced at the other King women and PJ.

She turned her attention to the other women, too. "What do you think are my chances of hiring PJ to be my nanny? She's so good with kids."

"I don't know," Ethan said, watching PJ as his mind turned somersaults. What if they were married and living nearby? Would PJ want to keep her job as a farrier, or would she prefer doing what Belle suggested and watching her kids? He knew she loved kids. Working as a nanny would prepare her for their kids which hopefully weren't too far off.

"Whoa, I lost you. You look like you got hit in the head by a brick," Belle said, waving her hand in front of his face.

"I was thinking about babies," Ethan admitted.

"Are you thinking of proposing to the blond? What's her name?"

"Chrissy. I guess you've been out of the loop. Chrissy and I broke up. I somehow fell in love with PJ."

"Oh, that's weird," Belle said. Leave it to her to tell the absolute truth. "And fast."

Ethan sighed. "I know. Is there something seriously wrong with me, Belle? I mean, you know how many women I've dated; you've met a lot of them. They're nothing like her, and yet I've never felt like this before. She's too young for me, too good for me, and totally out of reach." He shrugged. "But I can't help myself."

"Now that I think about it, this makes total sense, Ethan," Belle said. "No offense, but your girlfriends have all been nightmares. I've always dreaded meeting them because I was afraid I was going to blurt out how much I don't like them. I decided you simply had horrible taste in women. But PJ, well, she's something different, something special."

"Are you telling me you approve, Boss?"

"I approve," Belle said, resting her head on her extended arm. "You really think I'll be a good mom, Ethan?"

"I think you'll be a better mom than you are a literary agent," Ethan said.

Belle whistled appreciatively. "That's really saying something."

Ethan chuckled. "It sure is." He stood and stretched. "I should get out of the kitchen and join your husband and brothers before they come and take away my man card."

"Good luck," Layla called. "They're on twin duty today. The kitchen might be a safer place."

Ethan was tempted to stay, but he thought maybe this was a traditional time for the women to be together, and he didn't want to intrude. With a smile, he went to the living room and joined the men and babies.
Chapter 17

Christmas Eve was turning out to be as idyllic as Ethan had dreamed it would. The Kings had their big celebration on that day because Josh and Sam were flying to Arizona to be with his parents on Christmas. While the women cooked and baked in the kitchen, the men watched sports, talking and laughing as they took care of the twins.

Ethan felt like a part of the family, but at the same time he missed his real family in Ohio. He tried to remember the last time he had felt homesick and couldn't. He pulled out his phone to call before remembering there was no cell reception here.

"Use our phone," Cam said. Ever observant, he had watched as Ethan tried and failed to get a signal. He tossed him the cordless phone before turning his attention back to the nephew dangling on his leg.

"Thanks," Ethan said. He stood, grabbed his coat, and went onto the porch as he dialed. "Mom, it's Ethan," he said, feeling the uncanny need to identify himself to his mother. How long had it been since he talked to her?

"Ethan," she said, sounding surprised. In the background, he could hear the sounds of his family talking and laughing. His gut twisted and he was suddenly fighting the sting of tears. "What's wrong, honey?"

"Nothing, Mom," he replied, his voice tight. "I just...I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. How are you?" When was the last time he'd asked his mother that question and truly listened to the answer?

"I'm fine, honey. How are you? What's new? How's the city?"

"I'm actually in Montana," Ethan said, dusting a fine layer of snow off the swing so he could sit down.

"Montana," his mother said, sounding excited. "How wonderful! What are you doing there?"

"I came to visit Belle and Cam, but I fell in love with someone and I'm moving here permanently." Saying the words out loud was frightening, but also liberating. This was real; this was his life now.

"Oh. Okay," his mother drawled.

"You'd like her, Mom. She's not like any of my other girlfriends."

His mom laughed, the sweet sound harkening him back to his childhood so that he smiled, too. "Well, that's a relief," his mother said. "No offense, Ethan, but you've had terrible taste in women since you moved to New York."

"So I've heard," he replied.

"When do we get to meet our new daughter-to-be? You are going to marry her, aren't you?"

"That's the thing, Mom. I sort of messed up royally and she doesn't want anything to do with me right now. I don't know how to fix it."

"Ethan, you've always been a good boy at heart. I'm sure you'll figure it out and she'll come around. Just be a man of integrity, and she'll have no choice but to see your pure heart."

"I'm not sure my heart is pure anymore, Mom," Ethan admitted, hating the words. "Somehow I've gotten so off track."

"I know you have," his mother said. Her weighty tone told him more than he wanted to know, namely that she was disappointed in the person he'd become. "But I know the man I raised you to be is still in there somewhere, and I know that when you get everything figured out, that's the person you're going to be."

They were silent a few beats as he digested that. His mom understood the person he'd become, but she loved him anyway. How often did a man find that kind of grace and unconditional love in his life? Yet he'd pushed it away, repeatedly, thinking it was too provincial for his newly sophisticated lifestyle. "I'm sorry I've been such a jerk, Mom. Maybe after I tie up my job in New York, I can stop in Ohio for a while."

"Dad and I would love that. And maybe after you're settled in Montana we can come for a nice long visit. We've always dreamed of visiting there."

Ethan smiled, thinking how many times he had invited them to New York. He had taken their lack of interest in his adopted home as a strike against them. Turns out it just wasn't their style. "I would love that," he said sincerely. "Maybe by then things will be on track with PJ. If not, then maybe you can help me win her over."

"What does PJ stand for?" his mother asked, and he could tell she was smiling.

"I have no idea," Ethan said.

"That's the kind of thing you should find out before you marry her," his mother said, and they laughed together before turning the conversation to the rest of his family.

By the time he disconnected with his mother, Ethan felt buoyant. Somehow, things were going to work out.

His bright mood continued over a festive family meal. He wasn't sure how it would have been possible to maintain dim spirits in the light of so much food and lively conversation. Somehow Chrissy was managing, though. She sat in the middle of the table, occasionally answering questions with short one word answers, her frown fully in place. Even though her misery was of her own making, Ethan still felt sorry for her. No one should be so unhappy at Christmas. Grant must have felt the same way because he seemingly had decided to take her on as a project, chatting animatedly despite her lack of response.

After supper, it was time for presents. Ethan smiled, secure in the knowledge that PJ was going to like her gift. He had also set out Chrissy's gift—a silk scarf she'd been admiring. Her gift had cost more than PJ's, but PJ's gift meant more. After all, Chrissy had a dozen scarves. PJ had no jewelry, Ethan was almost sure of it. The thought of being the first person to buy her something so utterly feminine was thrilling.

There were so many people in the room that there weren't enough chairs for everyone. The women took the seats while the men sat on the floor in a circle surrounding the tree. Coy was the designated gift dealer, handing out packages so that everyone took a turn. The siblings and in-laws had a name exchange, everyone bought for the twins, and each family had bought something for him, PJ, and Chrissy. Ethan wondered if the sight of so many gifts from strangers would have a softening effect on Chrissy, but it didn't. She wore a look of barely contained disdain while PJ exclaimed over each gift as if it were a pot of gold. The difference between the two women was almost comical.

At long last, Coy handed PJ Ethan's present. He tensed in anticipation as she opened it. Everyone was watching and they exclaimed over the beauty of the handmade jewelry. After PJ was done examining it, however, she turned a beaming smile on Grant. Even when Ethan heard her utter the words, "Thank you, Grant," he didn't understand what had happened.

Not until Coy handed her a larger box did he begin to put two and two together. "This one's from Ethan," Coy said as he handed the box around the circle. PJ glanced at him with a look of anticipation, one that was probably met with a look of horror. At least he felt horrified as he watched her open the box and pull out an awl.

"Thanks, Ethan," she said, just as warmly and sincerely as she had responded to Grant over the jewelry.

Ethan turned accusing eyes to Grant who smiled and gave him a knowing nod. It was like being bitten by Lassie—unexpected and out of character. Ethan understood that Grant was his rival, but he hadn't known Grant was conscious of the fact. Switching his name on the gifts, though, that was a low blow. Especially because there was such a stark contrast between the ugly awl and the beautiful jewelry. And there was no apparent way to make it right. What was Ethan supposed to do? Stand up and challenge Grant to a duel? Make him admit in front of everyone that he had purposely switched their gift tags?

There was no way, which only added to the disaster this vacation had become. What was wrong with him in Montana? Why did everything he tried turn to failure? Would it be this way with his job, too? Would he be the worst assistant Montana had ever known? But, no, he was thinking like a crazy person. He needed to take a deep breath and regroup. Things could only go up from here, right?
Chapter 18

But as soon as the disastrous present opening experience was over, it was time for a new disaster. Chrissy looked at Ethan, and his gut twisted with dreaded anticipation as he took in her expression.

"I would like to thank you all for the nice presents," she announced to the room at large. "The airports are open now, and I scheduled a flight to leave first thing in the morning." She turned to Ethan. "I'm sick of this. Sick of you and this whole situation. I'm blowing the whistle on your little secret here, and Suzanne Rey is about to be exposed."

He could feel Belle and Cam freeze and stare at them in horror. "Chrissy," he said carefully, glancing at PJ and willing her to understand. "I can't make PJ give you the interview. If she doesn't want to come clean and admit that she's Suzanne Rey, then there's nothing I can do to help. But I think this is a really rotten thing to do. This family has been nothing but kind to you, and this is how you repay that kindness?"

Chrissy didn't answer, but she looked uncomfortable. Coy, however, interrupted with a laugh. "PJ, you're Suzanne Rey?" he said. "No kidding! I love your work." He beamed at her.

"I don't...I'm not..." PJ stammered, looking helplessly at Ethan.

"She's not Suzanne Rey," Cam said, his tone resigned.

"I am," Cade interrupted. Everyone turned to look at him in shock, especially his wife, Layla. "Why do you think I spend so much time in the office?" he said, giving Layla a significant look to try and counter the stricken, betrayed expression on her face. Josh looked from Cade to Cam to Belle and back again a few times before stepping forward.

"He's lying," Josh said. "I'm Suzanne Rey. I stuff my feelings deep down inside to write about them later." Now it was his wife, Sam's, turn to look confused. Coy, however, was starting to catch on.

"Or maybe it's me," he added. "I'm a lot deeper than people think I am."

"Maybe it's all of us," Layla said, having finally caught up to what was happening. "Maybe it's a collaborative effort. I, for one, am willing to give an interview, though, Chrissy."

"Me, too," Cade echoed.

"Me, too," Josh and Coy added.

"You're not all Suzanne Rey," Chrissy said, sounding pouty and frustrated. "Stop trying to protect her." She pointed accusingly at PJ.

"Which magazine do you work for?" This time it was Belle who spoke. Everyone swiveled to look at her because she sounded different from the Belle they were used to. Everyone but Ethan who smiled in anticipation of what was coming. He knew this Belle, his boss, the tough New York literary agent who was finally about to give Chrissy what was coming to her.

" _New York Reader_ ," Chrissy said, sounding uncertain for the first time.

Belle smiled and Chrissy actually shuddered. "Can you hand me the phone please, Sam?" she said to her sister-in-law, reaching for it. Sam gave her the phone and everyone watched as she dialed a number from memory. "Bob, hi, it's Belle Landry King," she said. "Merry Christmas to you, too. I'm sorry to bug you when we're supposed to be away from it all, but I'm sitting here with one of your reporters." She paused and looked at Chrissy who was staring at her in mute horror. "What's your name?"

"Chrissy," everyone supplied when Chrissy didn't answer.

"Chrissy," Belle said. "And, correct me if I'm wrong, Bob, but didn't we have an agreement that I would give you exclusive details about new Suzanne Rey releases if you left her identity alone? Right. Right. Yes, she did. Yes, she is." Chrissy was squirming uncomfortably now. "Fire her?" Belle said, pinning Chrissy with an icy stare when she cried out. The moment hung endlessly until at last Belle smiled and returned to her conversation. "No, I don't think that will be necessary. I'm sure you'll know best how to handle the situation. Thanks, Bob. Give my love to Gwen and the kids." With that, she hung up and turned her attention back to Chrissy. "Go pack. I'm finding you a flight today and one of the hands will drive you to the airport. I think it goes without saying that you are not welcome back to Montana, but if I could offer you a piece of advice, I would tell you to rethink your approach. I've been in the publishing business a long time and while backstabbing and social climbing may seem like a good way to get ahead, it isn't."

Belle stared her down until at last Chrissy dropped her eyes and slunk away without another word. Chrissy's door clicked softly closed, and Belle looked at Ethan.

"You should have told me," she said.

"I didn't want to worry you; you've been so sick, and I didn't want to add any more stress," Ethan said.

"I appreciate that, Ethan, but I'm fine, and it's my job to worry about this sort of thing," Belle said.

"No one should have to worry about it," Cam said. "I should just come clean."

"You think?" Coy asked, indignant. "I've been sneaking around reading Ivy's Suzanne Rey books, thinking I was enjoying reading girl stuff, and my own brother is the author. This is humiliating."

PJ sat forward as if just now catching on. "You're Suzanne Rey?" she asked, staring at Cam in disbelief.

Now it was his turn to squirm uncomfortably. "Yes," he admitted. "Ethan was sworn to secrecy," he added, guessing what had been the cause of the rift between them. "He was trying to protect me."

PJ turned to Ethan with an unreadable expression, but it was late and the gathering was beginning to disperse. Activity swirled around them as they stared at each other. He wanted to explain or apologize or _something_ , but he just sat there, motionless and silent, and so did she until at last she stood.

"I should go to bed," she said. She slipped by him without looking back and silently closed her door.

Ethan was getting ready to go to bed himself when a heavy hand clamped on his shoulder. "Tomorrow you and I need to have a little talk," Grant said, his tone serious and deadly. Ethan looked up—way up—to see that his expression was grim, too. Ethan nodded, thinking that being beaten half to death by a Honeywell would be the perfect end to this horrible vacation.

Morning came, though, and it was difficult to feel gloomy. It had snowed again in the night, covering Christmas Day with a blanket of glistening white fluff. For a moment, Ethan felt panicked, thinking maybe Chrissy hadn't been able to make it to the airport, but she had. As soon as he exited his room, the cheery, festive atmosphere of the kitchen told him so. In fact, someone was humming _Ding Dong, the Witch is Dead,_ and he thought maybe it was PJ. Though she seemed in high spirits, she was still avoiding him, and Ethan couldn't fathom why. Could she still be angry and disappointed in him? Was a lie a lie, no matter who he had been protecting?

With the family around, he wasn't able to talk to her. Just as he worked up the nerve to do so, the now-familiar clamp on his shoulder told him Grant had arrived. "We need to have a little talk," Grant said. Not waiting to make sure Ethan was following, he turned and headed outside.
Chapter 19

PJ watched Ethan follow Grant with a puzzled frown. What could that be about? Ethan and Grant weren't exactly friends, and the exchange hadn't looked friendly. _It's none of my business,_ PJ reminded herself. _Just because I'm in love with Ethan doesn't give me the right to know his whereabouts every second._

She finished her cereal and listlessly stirred the spoon around the bowl. What was she going to do? She had messed everything up by not trusting Ethan; she could see that now. Why hadn't she simply believed in him when he asked her to trust him? Why did she have to be such a novice at this and so horrible at it? Now she knew the truth, that he had been protecting Cam, that he hadn't broken his word and betrayed the secret even when she had begged him to give her a reason.

If only she would have stayed off her high horse and looked at Ethan's heart instead of her own high ideals. Of course Ethan, who had been good and perfect and wonderful since the moment he arrived, had only been protecting a friend when he asked her to lie to Chrissy. Maybe he could have handled it differently by informing Belle what was going on, but he had been protecting her, too. The outcome may have been misguided, but his intentions had been good and honorable. And she had treated him like public enemy number one.

He must think she was a goody-goody idiot, looking down on him from her ivory tower. How was she supposed to fix this mess she'd made before Ethan went back to New York? What if she had ruined things for good? What if he didn't want to be with someone so inexperienced or high maintenance? It would be just her luck to find her Prince Charming only to lose him—and on Christmas, no less.

"You okay, PJ?" Sam asked, studying her with a worried frown.

"I'm good," PJ said with an unconvincing smile. Belle, who wasn't much of a morning person, joined them then. This morning she looked even greener around the gills than usual as she bypassed the coffee pot and grabbed a piece of toast. Sam and PJ exchanged looks across the table. If there was one thing everyone knew about Belle, it was that she had a raging coffee addiction. Why was she skipping coffee, unless...

"PJ, do you think maybe you could teach me to knit while you're here?" Belle surprised everyone by asking.

"Sure, Belle," PJ said. "Any particular reason?"

"I need to become more domestic," she said vaguely.

"Belle," Cam said, sidling up beside her and circling her with his arm. "Honey, you don't have to do this. Don't force things; they'll come naturally."

"I want to do this, Cam," she said, looking up at him with a smile that looked almost shy. "I want to be a good mom."

PJ and Sam glanced at each other again, having received an answer to their silent question.

"You're going to be a great mom," Cam assured her.

"I'm sorry I wasn't happy about it before. I'm starting to get really excited about it now," Belle said.

"You are?" Cam asked, setting aside his coffee so he could put his other arm around her.

She nodded. "Which is why we're going into town tomorrow to buy furniture. I've also been doing some research on the best toys and activities for brain development. I made a list, and we..." She cut off when Cam kissed her. PJ looked away, smiling, knowing Cam was kissing her more out of a desire to shut her up than because he was happy. Once Belle sunk her teeth into a project, there was no turning back.

"I think I'll go and visit Ivy," PJ said as she stood and backed away from the table. She sounded as sad and listless as she felt, but she couldn't help it. Ivy noticed as soon as she entered her room.

"Why the long face?" Ivy asked. "Did something happen to one of the horses?"

"Of course not," PJ said, sinking into the chair at the side of the bed. "I told you they're on the mend. Another week and the laminitis will be gone."

"Thanks, PJ," Ivy said as she reached out to snag PJ's hand. "I owe you one."

"I'd like to cash in," PJ said. "Tell me how to fix things with Ethan, Ivy. I've messed up horribly, and I need to make it right. For once in my life, I want to be the girl who knows exactly what to say and do, to be the girl who's amazing."

Ivy smiled, though the look in her eyes was calculating. "Tell me, PJ, how do you feel about a makeover?"

"What?" she had expected Ivy to give her some advice on what to do or say, and instead she was fixating on her lackluster appearance. Self-consciously, she patted her ponytail. "Why?"

"Because all that stuff you just said is a waste of time. Ethan's crazy about you; he's in love with you. Don't you dare try to be something you're not when you're already amazing. He's already said he wants you. All you have to do is go and get him, and I for one think when you do, you should look your very best."

"What did you have in mind?" PJ asked, her heart an odd mixture of anxiety and anticipation. Ivy always looked so beautiful and put together. Could PJ?

"Call Sam, Layla, and Belle and tell them to come over. We have work to do."

PJ reached for the phone, hoping as she did so that she wasn't about to make a fool of herself and fall flat on her face.

Ethan was feeling similarly anxious as he followed Grant Honeywell to the barn. They stepped inside and Ethan stopped short, turning around to stare in wonder at the thousands of tiny white Christmas lights.

"What's this for?" Ethan asked as surprise and curiosity won out over anxiety.

"It's for you," Grant said.

Ethan took a step back until he bumped the door. "Uh, I'm not sure what you've heard about me, but I like women. A lot."

"By all rights, I should break your jaw for that, but you're just too pathetic," Grant said. "What is wrong with you, man?"

"What?" Ethan asked, taking another step forward to escape the cool draft near the door. "What are you talking about?"

"You and PJ. I would think you'd never dated a woman before, but I saw you with that pretty blond, so I know you can get a girl. I've been doing my best to help you out, but your incompetence is counter productive."

"What?" Ethan said, cocking his head to the side to try and study Grant with a new perspective.

Grant sighed and swiped his hand wearily over his face. "I didn't think you could mess things up this badly. If I had, then I wouldn't have been so secretive about trying to help you with her."

"Help me with her," Ethan said the words slowly, turning them over in his mind to try and make sense of them. "You've been trying to help me with PJ?"

Grant nodded.

"Why? I thought you liked her."

"Of course I do. I mean, she's pretty and sweet and interesting, but she's a Montana girl. I can't marry someone who's not southern after giving Ivy such a hard time about it. My family would never let me live it down. And I don't want to live here; my life is in Kentucky, and PJ's life is here. I noticed the way you look at her, and I thought I would help you out."

"Why?" Ethan repeated again. "Why would you think I need your help?"

"Because you're from New York," Grant said, as if the answer should have been obvious. "What do you know about wooing a woman?"

"So, when you switched our names on the presents, that was supposed to help me?"

Grant nodded again. "When I saw you hadn't bought her an awl after it was what you said she wanted, that's when I knew I had to take matters into my own hands. So I switched and took the fall for that ugly jewelry you bought her." He paused to frown. "Jewelry, Ethan? Really? She's a farrier; what's she going to do with jewelry?"

Ethan blinked at him, trying to decide if he wanted to explain or ignore the question. In the end, he chose to move on. "And what's all this about?" He gestured to the interior of the barn.

"A grand gesture," Grant said. "It's a Honeywell specialty." He reached behind him and flipped a switch, illuminating the barn in the soft glow of a million tiny lights. At the same time, soft music began to play."

"How did you do all this?" Ethan asked, amazed because it really was beautiful and spectacular.

"I'm an engineer," Grant said.

That hadn't been what Ethan meant. He meant how had he singlehandedly strung hundreds upon hundreds of lights when there had only been a few hours between last night and this morning. He didn't press the point though; let the Honeywells have their mystique. "How am I supposed to get PJ here to talk to me? I think she's still mad at me." This is what his life had come down to—asking Grant Honeywell for love advice.

"The women are taking care of that. They said they had a plan." He checked his watch. "She should be here soon. Do you want me to hide in one of the stalls and coach you on what to say to her?"

_I will not laugh, I will not laugh, I will not laugh,_ Ethan promised himself. But every time he pictured Grant as his own personal giant Cyrano de Bergerac, he felt the hysterical need to giggle. "I think I can handle it from here." At least he hoped he could. At this point he wasn't above begging.

"All right, then, I'll skedaddle," Grant said. He turned and headed for the door, but Ethan stopped him before he could leave.

"Grant, thanks," he said.

Grant grinned in reply. "Don't mess this up, New York. She's a special gal."

"She is," Ethan agreed. "And I'll do my best."

Grant gave him an upward nod and slipped out the back just as a rustling sound caught Ethan's attention at the front of the barn. He turned in time to see PJ stepping through the door. At least he thought it was PJ. The woman before him wasn't wearing her usual ponytail, jeans, and plaid shirt, though. Instead, her hair hung in lush, thick waves almost to her waist and when she took off her coat, she was wearing a dress that hugged her curves and fell just above her feet. She stood shyly in the entryway as if uncertain of her welcome. After Ethan overcame his initial shock, he smiled, crooking his finger until she stumbled toward him.

She came to rest a couple of feet away, hands clasped nervously behind her back. He still hadn't found his voice, so he simply looked at her, enjoying the view. She was stunningly, breathtakingly beautiful. Whereas before her beauty had been subtle, it was now glaringly obvious. Whatever transformation had taken place had worked to highlight her high cheekbones, obsidian eyes, long lashes, and lush mouth. Ethan nervously licked his lips, absently wondering if he was in PJ's league and somehow knowing he wasn't. If New York discovered her, she could be a supermodel.

"Say something, Ethan," PJ whispered. Ethan realized then that she wasn't subject to the thoughts in his head, but was it possible she had no idea how exquisite she was?

"I'm not sure I can, PJ. You took my words away, along with my breath."

She grinned at him. "That's a great line."

"It wasn't a line," he assured her, taking a small step closer to lessen the gap between them. "I've never seen anything more beautiful than you at this moment." He glanced down and saw that she was wearing his necklace. He reached over, holding it delicately between his fingers.

"I know it's from you," she said softly. "One of the nurses saw you buying it and told me before realizing it was probably a Christmas present." Her hand closed over his around the necklace. "I love it. No one has ever bought me jewelry before; no one has ever made me feel like a woman until you came along. That's a special gift that I'll always remember when you go back to New York."

He opened his mouth to reply, but she preempted him, standing on her toes to press her lips softly to his. Ethan, who knew how much courage her boldness required of her, lost his heart all over again. She was so...everything.

When the kiss finally ended, they rested their foreheads together, eyes closed and breathing deeply. "You don't have to promise me anything," she whispered. "I know I said I was looking for forever before, but you've already given me so much and I...I love you, Ethan."

Ethan smiled as he looked down at her sweet, trusting face. "That's good because I'm not going anywhere. Cam and Belle offered me a job, and I'm moving to Montana."

"You are?"

He nodded. "And you know what else? I don't think I could find a moment or a setting more perfect than this." He let her go and took a step back when he remembered something his mother said. "What does PJ stand for?"

"Phillipa Jo," PJ whispered, sill looking and sounding dazed.

"That's pretty," he said, and then he dropped to one knee in front of her and took her hand. "Phillipa Jo, I never thought I could leave everything I've been building in New York for the last ten years. And then I met you and I realized I haven't been building anything but an empty shell. Everything I want in the world is standing in front of me, and if you're crazy enough to take a chance on marrying the guy who just learned your name, then I promise to spend the rest of our lives making you happy. Will you marry me?"

There was a breathless pause when he thought she might say no, but then she smiled. "Yes."

At least he thought that was what she said. It was hard to tell over the cheering crowd of Kings peering through the door, eavesdropping on every word. Ethan stood, laughing, as he and PJ turned to look at their audience.

"What'd she say?" came Ivy's voice over the phone held to Coy's ear.

"She said yes," Coy whispered, causing everyone to laugh.

"Are you going to kiss her, or do I have to come in there and show you how?" Grant asked.

"I've got this one," Ethan said. Turning his attention back to PJ, he pulled her close to kiss her again, but she put up a hand to stop him.

"I almost forgot," she said. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Ethan replied, and then he kissed her.

