And now Quinn, the one most likely to be able to do just that, protect her, was gone, leaving her to the man least likely.

Then again, maybe not, he thought grimly. Because he knew deep down that if it came to it, he wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to lay down his life to keep her safe. In fact, it was the only thing he could think of that might make up for failing to save her father.

But she had Liam looking out for her as well, and Adam had a suspicion it would not be wise to underestimate the smiling, easygoing Texan. And then there was the dog, who was quite unlike any dog he’d ever encountered, even among the dozens of ranch dogs he’d lived with over the years. The smartest of those had been Joker, half German shepherd, half who knows what, and the memory of the animal still made him smile.

“That was a...wistful smile.”

He managed not to jump, or snap his head up and betray how she’d sneaked up on him.

“Just...remembering.” And before things could veer into the dangerous territory still smoldering between them, he clarified, “Joker. A ranch dog we had when I was a kid.”

She sat down on the deck chair next to him, glanced over to where Cutter was lying on the deck, his ears twitching occasionally as he heard something. Nothing that apparently was of interest, since his chin stayed on his paws.

“Was he like Cutter?” she asked.

“Not as people smart,” he said, then regretted it as he remembered just who had facilitated that action that had ended in the most amazing kiss of his life. He went on hastily. “He had a personal vendetta going on with the local coyotes. If he spotted or even sniffed one, the chase was on, and from the way he snarled you’d swear he’d rip their throat out if he ever caught one.”

He noted belatedly the imagery was a bit grim, considering, but she only smiled. “And?”

“One day when I was working out in the barn he came in, carrying something. He brought it over to me, set it down in the straw and whined. That dog never, ever whined.”

Her brow furrowed. “He caught one?”

“No. He found one. A pup, hurt, looked like it had tangled with a hawk or something. And Joker looked at me like... Cutter looks at the Foxworths. The look Quinn calls his ‘fix it’ look.”

She was smiling then. “So this dog with a coyote vendetta brings you an injured baby coyote to fix?”

“Exactly.”

Her smile widened, and it was a warm, wonderful thing. “What did you do?”