He’d taken it and left with the baby girl to wait for the results. Before it had even come back, he’d fallen in love with the poopy little angel. She’d vomited all over his shirt and made disastrous diapers and cried so much he hadn’t known what to do. But when she settled down and held his finger? And smiled up at him with those toothless gums? He’d felt . . . something special.

The DNA test had said she was his, but it didn’t matter. Liberty Marie Watson had been his the moment she’d grabbed a fistful of his beard and giggled in delight.

She was the only female he liked and trusted. The only one whose smile was completely innocent.

He’d never seen Adria again. He’d kept going into town for a while, wondering if she missed Libby or wanted to see her. She never showed up, never responded to texts or emails, and last he heard, she’d moved to Dutch Harbor, because crab fishermen normally had loaded pockets.

So, yeah, Libby was his and that was all there was to it. Libby was the only reason he was here now. If it was just Hank, he’d have stayed high in the mountains in Alaska and never come out. But he had a tiny daughter to think about. Towns had books and dentists, and he figured Libby might need those things. When Uncle Ennis said he needed help at the ranch, he’d thought long and hard and eventually decided to go. It wasn’t just the money or that Ennis was family. It was that he needed to know if Libby needed a community. He’d give Painted Barrel some time, determine how Libby handled being around so many townsfolk and adjusted to life on the farm, and then see how things shook out after calving season.

If she wanted to go back to Alaska, he’d take her.

If she wanted to stay in town, well . . . he’d endure it. He’d do anything for his baby girl.

Maybe not date the local hairdresser, but . . . most anything.

CHAPTER THREE

Four Months Later

All was quiet in the salon, even on what was normally a busy weekend. Becca flipped through a magazine, eyeing the hairstyles. She wasn’t worried. As the only hairdresser in Painted Barrel, she had a captive audience. Unless they wanted to drive a half hour up the road just for a trim, everyone would come in sooner or later. Right now, it was “later” because it was right in the middle of calving season, which meant that every rancher with two hands had them full right about now. Happened every spring. The cattle all seemed to want to give birth at the same time, which meant the ranchers didn’t have time to breathe, much less head into town for some grooming.