Stevie had learned that in her English Comp class—which she hated. That idea came back to her as she unbuttoned the shirt of her flannel pajamas and then took off the bottoms. She tossed both pieces on the end of the bed and got dressed in borrowed jeans and a sweatshirt with a picture of Luke Bryan on the front. Evidently, Mia liked country music too.

If Stevie were writing a book with herself as the heroine, then who was the villain, and who was the hero? she wondered. She sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled on a pair of clean socks, another thing she would never take for granted again.

Is Cody Ryan the villain in my story? she asked herself and nodded while she stomped her feet down into her cowboy boots. “Maybe not is, but was,” she whispered.

Can a villain also be a hero? she asked herself as she braided her hair and let it hang over one shoulder.

She would have to consider that more later because it was time to go to the ranch house for supper, but the idea had stuck firmly in her mind. She would be like a hound dog pup with a soup bone—bury it but keep going back to dig it up and think about it for weeks—until she had a satisfactory answer.

Cody was slouched on the sofa, his boots propped up on the coffee table when she went out into the bunkhouse living area. He turned off the television and laid the remote to the side. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “You sure look a lot less cranky since you’ve had some rest.”

“You read people pretty good, Dr. Cowboy,” she said with half a smile, still trying to figure out if he could possibly change from bad to good.

“Thank you.” Cody stood. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

At just two inches shy of six feet, Stevie had always felt like a giant among the other kids she had gone to school with, especially the girls. But Cody was taller by a good six inches, and she felt especially feminine when he picked up her coat and helped her put it on.

“Jesse brought the ranch work truck down for us to use. I thought we’d take a side trip to the barn and check on the livestock,” he asked.

“Since when have cats become livestock?” Stevie teased.

Cody straightened her collar, and as his fingers brushed against her neck, she felt a tingle shoot straight down to her toes.

“This is a ranch. Cows are animals. Alpacas are animals. Cats are animals. Cows are livestock. Even that bad-tempered donkey we keep around is an—”

Stevie raised a palm. “I get your point, and yes, I would love to go check on Dixie and the cats.”