Chapter One

Stephanie Patricks readjusted her crisscrossed legs on the thick yoga mat, tucking her feet under her thighs, and rested her hands lightly on her knees. In late morning, sunshine brightened the studio. Early September brought golden days with a hint of chill in the air, promising the cold on its way. Her noisy inhalation filled her lungs to capacity as she counted to ten in her head before her loud exhale.

The air in the room whooshed as her class of ten followed along.

She smiled as she met each participant’s gaze. She loved yoga, both practicing and teaching. She had no choice but to focus on the current moment. During each session, she forced herself to be present, and not worry about the thousand other tasks on her ever-growing to do list. As a person who took action, she had difficulty with not resolving every situation decisively ASAP. Sometimes, she needed to sit and stew on a problem.

While focused on breath and movement, she found a few moments of peace.

Pressing her palms together, she raised her hands to the center of her chest. “The light within me honors the light within you. Namaste.” She bowed, lowering her torso until her forehead touched the floor. She stayed folded in half for another cycle of breath. When she returned to upright, she smiled at the class.

The mixed group of men and women from their early twenties to mid-seventies clapped.

“Thank you. I hope you’ve enjoyed your vacations and that we’ll see you again next summer.” She swallowed the small lump in her throat. Three months had passed in an instant. She’d miss her tranquil days here.

With murmured thanks and goodbyes, the class gathered their mats, blocks, and straps and exited the class.

The yoga studio was the corner room of the spa barn at the Kincaid ranch. Ten years earlier, the last remaining legacy ranchers, Hank and his grandson Ryan Kincaid, transformed their business from a traditional cattle operation into a high-end resort. It was a big risk in a small town with no tourism. But Ryan had a vision and revitalized his land and Herd’s economy. Within the first year, visitors flocked to the Old West town and the business flourished each following summer.

She was grateful for the opportunity to practice yoga in a brand-new facility with eager students on a gorgeous piece of land. Facing South, the wall of windows flooded the room with natural light, enabling her to turn off the overhead fluorescent bulbs for shavasana. In a building dedicated to massage and facials, quiet and stillness permeated the entire structure.

She liked it here. Teaching was her passion. While instructing adults in the techniques of a Hatha practice was different from her regular job, she enjoyed sparking joy in others. One of the selling points of her vocation was summers off. But she wasn’t the sort to sit around. In less than two days, she’d start her fifth year as a kindergarten teacher. She had one full day off.

And was already dreading how bored she’d be. She exhaled a heavy sigh, got to her knees, and rolled the pink and purple mat into a tight cylinder, securing it with her strap.

The door shut slowly.

Typically, the slam that followed the last person’s exit echoed in the silent room. Today, the closing was muffled and restrained. She wasn’t alone, but she didn’t tense. She knew the mystery person’s identity. He wasn’t betrayed by a sound.

It was a smell that confirmed her suspicions.

Mint and leather. She was reminded simultaneously of a sun warmed car interior on a lazy Sunday afternoon drive and iced tea with the fresh cut herb from a kitchen garden. Unlike the man, both gave her a feeling of contentment.

She lifted her chin, raising her gaze to the newcomer. Her chest squeezed and her throat seized. She frowned. Did that rhyme? Could she work that into a lesson for her kindergarten class? At least then she could turn what would inevitably become another awkward encounter into a positive experience.

Ted Stirling, staff supervisor, pressed a palm flat against the door. With one leg raised and the ankle crossed over the opposite knee, he slipped off a boot. Then he repeated the motion. For a big man, his movements were surprisingly poetic and soft. His balance was impeccable. And his actions? Seeking to respect her space by padding across the floor in socks only solidified what she admired most about him.

He’s kind and caring. And he’s my boss.

She swallowed a lovelorn sigh. Her body would do at least the minimal motion. Really, she struggled against a full-fledged swoon. He was so dreamy. She knew better. He’d never direct his energy toward her so why let her unrequited crush restrain her? She wasn’t exactly tongue-tied in his company. She couldn’t remember how to think and speak at the same time.

In bright white socks, he tiptoed across the floor. “Mornin, Stephanie. Figured I’d help you gather your things and get your keys back from you.”

The smell of fresh laundry mixed with the other scents, permeating the room. She leaned back on her heels, pressing her knees even harder into the floor. Somehow, he carried every aroma she found most intoxicating in a heady cologne. It was like he embodied a list of her wants. Of course, he didn’t know her preferences. How could he when she didn’t have the courage to say more than a few words?

Under her knees, the solid surface was unrelenting. Not that it could shake the words out of her throat or stop her palms sweating. She opened her mouth—wanting to deliver a cheeky, flirty comment—and grunted.

He smiled. “Just point to what you need help with, and I’ll start loading your car.”

Dragging in a shaky breath, she brushed her hair out of her face, her clammy hands extra cold against her burning cheeks. At least her momentary muteness only happened with arguably the nicest person in town. If she couldn’t hold her own, she never would have lasted against some of the extra concerned, very involved parents at her school.

She lifted her knees and—balancing on the balls of her feet—slowly stood. The deliberate motions regulated her breathing and her pulse. Grabbing her purse from next to the mirror at her back, she threw the tote-style bag over her shoulder and slung the yoga mat over the other arm, straps creating a crisscross pattern on her back.

As long as she didn’t look at him, she was fine. She could pretend she was in charge as the teacher and ignore how his thick lashes highlighted his gray eyes or the deep cleft in his chiseled chin that made him look like a cowboy from an old movie. She crossed the room, averting her gaze, and pointed to a stack of plastic milk crates holding foam blocks and another with woven blankets. “Thank you. I’ll get the rest.”

She didn’t wait to see if he did as she asked. She knew he would. That was the sort of person he was. Within her first few years living in tiny Herd, Montana, she became familiar with every townsperson. Ted always stood out in her mind. Beyond his broad shoulders and good looks, he had a calm, controlled energy she admired.

But she was unable to verbalize at every encounter. Unless she was unquestionably in charge.

The door cracked open, flooding the room with light.

She bent and grabbed the crate holding straps, throwing her purse on top. Turning toward the door, she froze mid-step.

With his back holding the door open, he waited.

She glanced down, he’d slipped back into boots silently. Inelegantly, she jammed her feet into her flip flops, stubbing her big toe. She winced.

He stepped forward.

She shook her head and strolled past him. If he offered her help, he’d wreck her. He couldn’t be kind to her. She didn’t need to encourage her heart any more to pursue this ridiculous, one-sided, crush.

Down the flagstone path, she continued to the small, employee parking lot behind the building. Hidden from view of the windows behind a row of buffaloberry shrubs, the recently paved rectangle wasn’t in keeping with the overall cowboy aesthetic. She was glad for a slight break from the dusty ground. And, although it hadn’t been a problem this year, she was glad to avoid her tires getting stuck in the mud during the typically heavy summer storms. A cool breeze shook the dry leaves of the plants. Snow wasn’t too far off.

She shivered and walked to her car.

The little red coupe needed a wash from the dusty, gravel roads leading from town to the ranch. Dirt was the least of the vehicle’s woes. The backseat was loaded with plastic containers holding school supplies. In the shotgun spot, she set a banker’s box full of files and paperwork from the last civic event—Frontier Days—to the next in a week—the annual charity poker tournament. She’d get around to cleaning and organizing the car over the next week.

She would unload the supplies in her classroom tomorrow. In a few more days, she’d co-host the poker fundraiser. Then she’d put her events files in her bedroom closet to wait until she was called to volunteer again. In a small town, she could be conscripted into service sooner than later. She didn’t mind. She set the milk crate on the ground, rifled through her tote for her keys, and popped the trunk. Lifting her gaze, she spotted his gaping mouth.

He coughed.

For a second, reversing the speechless roles was nice. Until she remembered why he gawked. She was the sort of person who constantly made piles. As soon as she cleared away her things, she started a new stack.

Stephanie grabbed her milk crate and strode past, brushing his shoulder as she rounded the bumper. Her arm scalded from the accidental touch. She set the crate in the trunk and removed her mat from her shoulder, slipping the strap over her head. Her cool confidence lasted less than ten seconds.

Ted set the other two crates in the trunk and shut the trunk.

Gripping the tote bag style purse with both hands, she faced him. He looked oddly expectant. If she was supposed to say something, she’d love a script and some lines right now.

“Keys?” he asked.

Duh. She reached into her bag for her studio keys and slipped the yoga studio’s door off the clip. She extended the key.

He held a hand out, palm flipped up.

She dropped the key, grateful to avoid any other accidental touches.

“Thanks, Stephanie. Will we see you tomorrow night? It’s our last Cowboy Dinner and we like to invite all the employees to enjoy the festivities. Our way of celebrating the season together. I promise, no work.”

She nodded. She’d helped at several of the events over the summer but never been invited as a guest. Not his guest. He said we. Of course, he meant in his role as the spa staff manager for his bosses Hank and Ryan Kincaid. It was practically a royal we around these parts. The Kincaid Ranch saved the town’s economy by transforming from ranching to relaxation.

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He reached up like he’d tip the brim of his hat. Instead, he swiped his forehead. “Forgot I left it at home this morning.” He chuckled. “Have a good day.”

He spun on his heel and strode away.

“You too,” she whispered, her words evaporating on the breeze. She walked around her car and hopped behind the wheel. If she ever kept her nerve around him, what would she say?