Jackson walked from the barn toward the cottage, each of his
steps leaving a boot-print in the snow.

“Jackson, wait! Jackson!”

He turned at the sound of his housekeeper’s voice, saw Livvy
Jones running him, her breath huffing out in the cold.

Jackson smiled. “Take it easy, Liv, you’ll give yourself a
heart attack.”

She drew in a panting breath and slowly released it. “I
forgot to tell you--I rented the cottage.”

“What?”

“We talked about it, remember? You said we ought to do
something with the place instead of just letting it sit
there and rot into the ground.”

“Yes, but--”

“You said do something, so I did.”

He lifted his cowboy hat then settled it back down on his
forehead. “All right, I guess that’s fair.” He looked over
at the cottage. “So who’s the new tenant?”

“Sarah Hollister. She used to live in Wind Canyon when she
was a girl. She recently lost her husband. She wanted to
come home and I thought this would be the perfect place for
her to recover from her loss.”

“Doesn’t sound familiar.”

“She was Sarah Allen when she was a girl.”

Jackson took the news like a sucker punch to the stomach.
Sarah Allen. Damn, he had known her voice sounded familiar.
Sarah had been two grades behind him in school. He’d
thought she was the prettiest, sweetest girl he had ever seen.

Man, had he been wrong.

Jackson glanced over at the cottage. He was no longer that
same insecure boy who had left Wind Canyon sixteen years
ago. But he would never forget the girl who had made him
feel less than a man.

“You remember her, don’t you?” Livvy asked, breaking into
his thoughts. “She was real pretty, thick dark brown hair
and big blue eyes. She was kind of shy back then.”

“Shy? I’m afraid that isn’t the Sarah I remember. And I
don’t want her here.” He started walking toward the
cottage, but Livvy caught his arm.

“What are you doing? I’ve already taken her money.”

“Then give it back.”

“She doesn’t want it back. She wants a place to raise her
little girl. I thought it would be nice to have a child
around--and maybe some female company once in a while.”

“Fine, but not here. Go back to the house, Livvy. I’ll
take care of this.” Jackson kept on walking. He tried to
tell himself he wouldn’t get the least satisfaction from
throwing Sarah Allen off his land. But he knew it wasn’t
the truth.

* * *

Sarah was on her way back into the living room--wide-planked
wooden floors, a stone fireplace, a comfortable sofa and
chairs--when she heard a knock at the door. For an instant,
fear gripped her. Even with Andrew dead, she worried about
who it might be.

She forced herself to relax. Assuming it must be Olivia
Jones, the lady who had rented her the property, she hurried
over and opened the door.

Her eyes widened. It wasn’t Olivia, it was Jackson Raines.

And he didn’t look happy to see her.

“Hello, Sarah.”

She wet her lips, which sudden felt stiff as paper. “Hello,
Jackson.” He was even taller than she remembered, around
six-foot-three. He had changed in sixteen years, each of
his features now more distinct, his dark brown eyes more
intense. She remembered the slight cleft in his chin but
now a faint scar bisected one of his nicely shaped eyebrows.

A little tremor of awareness went through her that she was
surprised to feel. It had been years since she had felt any
sort of attraction to a man. After Andrew, she thought
maybe she never would again.

“Do you...umm...work here on the ranch?” she asked.

The corner of his mouth edged up. “You might say that.” He
looked over her, saw the boxes she had been unpacking. “I’m
afraid we have a problem. Mrs. Jones made a mistake. The
cottage is not for rent.”

Her stomach tightened. “That...that can’t be right. It was
listed on the Internet. The details have all been worked out.”

“I’ll see your money is returned. And I’ll pay for any
extra trouble this might have caused. Just tell me how much
and I’ll write you a check.”

Her voice rose. “I don’t want a check! This is going to be
our home. Holly and I...we need this place. We love it
here already.”

Just then the little girl raced into the living room.
“Mommy--there’s a nest of baby robins under the roof right
outside my window!”

“Please,” Sarah pleaded, looking up at Jackson again.
“Isn’t there any way you could speak to the owner, tell him
how important it is for Holly and me to stay?”

She glanced away, afraid he would notice the glitter of
tears in her eyes. “She just lost her father. She needs
this, Jackson. Please...I need it.”

Jackson looked down at Holly who was staring at him as if he
were a real life hero--which, to her, being a cowboy and
their savior last night, he was.

He took a deep breath and slowly released it. “I suppose it
wouldn’t hurt if you stayed for a while. Just don’t get too
comfortable. If things don’t work out, you’ll have to find
another place to stay.”

Relief hit her so hard her knees went weak. A bright smile
broke over her face. “So you’ll talk to the owner? You’ll
make sure it’s okay for us to stay?”

He made a scoffing sound. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of
it.” He turned and started walking.

Sarah ran after him. “Wait, I meant to ask.... What’s the
name of the man who owns the ranch?”

He kept on walking, his boots crunching in the snow. Over
his shoulder he called back to her. “Jackson Raines.”