“And yet we were only rescued yesterday.” Stevie opened the refrigerator door and took out bacon, eggs, and cheese. “Got any oatmeal? You’re going to need a big breakfast to keep you warm out there in the weather.”

“In the pantry,” Cody answered. “I can’t make biscuits fit to eat so I usually just have toast. There’s a couple of loaves of Mama’s homemade bread in the freezer.”

“I’ll make the biscuits this morning. We can thaw out a loaf of bread for sandwiches or maybe potato soup for lunch.” She went into the pantry and came out with what she needed.

Cody turned on the oven and brought pans out from the cabinet. “I could get used to this.”

“Oh, yeah?” Stevie raised an eyebrow. “Would that be having a woman in flannel pajamas and her hair all messy making biscuits?”

“That would be having a friend to talk to while we make breakfast, and then sharing conversation while we eat,” he answered, “and you are definitely not that little girl in braces anymore. Even with your bedroom hair, you are a beautiful woman.”

Stevie couldn’t remember the last time she had been paid a compliment like that, and she’d never had anyone tell her she was beautiful when she looked like she did right then. But the expression on Cody’s face told her that he wasn’t joking—and he hadn’t added the word love.

“Thank you,” she said, and wondered how both of their lives would have changed if Cody had even told her something like that when she had seen him at the rodeo a few weeks ago.

To everything there is a season. Your time will come. Be patient. Her mother had told her that many times, especially when her relationships went south.

For the days to be in such a jumble, the time that it took to make breakfast and eat it went fast. Stevie was just drying the last fork and putting it away when she heard the noise of the truck. Cody grabbed his hat, settled it on his head, and then put his coat on.

“See you at noon or before,” he said on his way out the door with Tex right behind him.

She raised her voice and yelled, “Call if you need a vet.”

She had no sooner said the words than her phone rang. She raced to the bedroom, grabbed it, and answered without even looking at the caller ID. “Hello, this is Dr. Stevie O’Dell.”

“Oh, Stevie,” Gracie Langston whined, “Fifi is sick. I need help.”