Sammy had a red stain around his mouth, assuring her he’d enjoyed the goods. And just in case she couldn’t tell, he reached out with one claw and banged on the tin.

She laughed. “Okay, but if you start biting my ankles like Q-Tip does, I’ll—”

“Feed him faster?” Sara asked wryly, coming up behind her. She was dressed for work in cargo shorts, her usual wife-beater, and steel-toed boots. “Your menagerie’s food bill is going to be bigger than ours.”

“I’ve told you,” Emily said. “Q-Tip belongs to the house, and Sammy isn’t mine.”

Sammy banged on the tin again and Sara laughed. “Right,” she said, heading down the walk toward her truck. “Whatever lets you sleep at night, Dr. Doolittle.”

Emily’s day was like most of the others. The variety of animals they saw here at Belle Haven on a daily basis never failed to amaze her. Today alone she’d seen a llama, and then an ostrich.

The challenge came from trying to help patients who couldn’t talk, point to what hurt, and tell her what was wrong.

And then there was the stress. Some of this came from being a thousand miles away from her father when his number popped up on her cell phone. Standing in an exam room with Wyatt and Dell admiring a new litter of kittens that had been born overnight and brought in to be checked, she looked down at her buzzing phone and froze. He never called mid-week. She must’ve made some sort of giveaway expression because Wyatt and Dell both looked at her.

“My dad,” she said.

“Take it,” Wyatt told her. “We’re done for the day, anyway.”

Dell nodded. “Go ahead and take off.”

She stepped into the hallway and answered. “Dad, you okay?”

“Have you seen my iPod?”

She was stunned into momentarily silence. “Dad, I’ve been gone six weeks.”

“Well, I know that,” he said, sounding irritated now. “What do you think, that I’m going crazy?”

She paced to the end of the hall and stared at the wall in front of her, not seeing the framed certificates of all the various degrees and awards that the men who worked here had obtained. All she could see was her father standing in the living room that she knew by now probably qualified for an episode of Hoarders. He’d be in his baggy khakis and wrinkled shirt, lab coat opened, pockets stuffed, scratching his head as he turned in a baffled circle looking at the mess around him.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” she said. “I think you’re probably working yourself into the ground without looking up. Have you been eating?”

“Today?”

She resisted thunking her head to the wall. “Dad.”

“Kiddin’, pumpkin. I ate. I nuked one of those frozen breakfasts you have Mrs. Rodriguez stuff into my freezer every week. You know, I can do my own food shopping.”

She let out a breath, relieved to hear good humor in his voice. “I know you can, the question is will you?”

“I’m fine, Emily. I can feed myself. Last week’s oven fire was a total fluke.”

She froze for a beat, mentally calculating the balance in her bank account versus what she had available on her credit card for a last minute fare to L.A.

“Emily, I’m kidding. I haven’t even used the oven. You take such great care of me that I haven’t had to.” There was love and affection in his voice, and she sighed again, softening.

“I just worry,” she said.

“Well, don’t. That’s my job.”

“But—”

“Your job’s to enjoy your year in God’s country,” he said. “Speaking of which, aren’t you on the job right now?”

“Yes.”

“Well if you don’t know where my iPod is, get back to it. I’ve got to get to the shelter, it’s free adoption night. We’ve got pizza coming and everything.”

He was already gone, she could tell, distracted by the night ahead. “Okay, Dad. I’ll talk to you soon. Love—” But she could tell he’d already disconnected. “—you.”

It was dusk, with dark quickly closing in. Needing to clear her head before she hit the road for the night, Emily stepped out the back door. It was indeed “God’s country” as her father had said.

With the sun already behind the Bitterroot mountains, the amazing, rugged peaks cast shadows hundreds of miles across the valley floor.

She pulled out her cell again. She hit Sara’s number as she leaned against the fencing of the horse pen and took in the beauty sprawled out for thousands and thousands of majestic acres before her.

“Hey,” Sara answered, sounding harried. “I’m on a third-story roof with a crew, this better be good.”

“Oh my God. Why did you answer your phone if you’re on a third-story roof? Hang up.”

Sara laughed. “I’m fine. I’m roped in. Got a crew around me. A bunch of shirtless men, too. Too bad it’s totally wasted on me.”

“I talked to Dad.”

“He still can’t find his iPod?” Sara asked.

Emily sighed. “He called you first.”

“I was less likely to freak out on him.”

“I didn’t freak out.” Emily paused. “Much.”

Sara laughed.

“I don’t think he’s eating, Sara. And—”

“Honey, he’s fine. He’s happy. Stop borrowing trouble.”

“I think we should fly to visit him this weekend,” Emily said.

“And I think you should have some chocolate. Or get laid. Listen, I get that you’re lonely, and I swear I’ll pretend to watch So You Think You Can Dance with you tonight but for now, I really am on a roof, so . . .”

Emily sighed and ended the call. She inhaled some really fresh air before she felt a nudge.

Reno, Adam’s horse, looking for goodies.

Emily searched her pockets and came up with nothing. “Sorry, baby.”

Reno snorted.

“I know, rude of me.” Emily sat on a fallen log and leaned back. When she was little, she’d loved to try to star watch. In L.A., this was tricky because of all the city lights, not to mention smog. Doing it here, in the land of the big sky, was a whole new ball game. “I’m not lonely,” she said to the horse, who snorted again and swished his tail.

“Good. Cuz you’re not alone.”

Two long legs came into her peripheral. Wyatt crouched at her side and looked into her face. “How’s your dad?”

“Fine,” she said.

He nodded. “And you?”

“I’m fine, too,” she said.

Nodding again, he sat on the log at her side and leaned back, presumably to look at whatever she was looking at. “Pretty night.”

His shoulder and a part of his chest brushed her arm and shoulder. Actually it was more like he was encircling her within his arm span, which was considerable. It was a guy move, an alpha guy move, and it made her feel . . . protected.

She was getting far too used to that, she thought with a sigh.

“I smell something burning,” he said.

“Where is everyone?”

“Gone,” he said, and there was an odd quality to his voice that had her taking a second look at him. He didn’t take his gaze off the sky so she got him in profile, the tousled hair, the fine lines crinkling the corners of his eyes from long days out in the sun, the square, scruffy jaw, and broad shoulders built to take on the weight of the world.

He’d been working his ass off, here at Belle Haven, helping Dell take up the slack for the out-of-town Jade, and then going home and helping his sisters with the monstrous house they were fixing up. He did so much for everyone, and she found herself wanting to do something for him. Make him smile. Make him relax. Make him forget, even for a few minutes . . . She nudged him with her shoulder.

He nudged her back and turned to look at her then, his eyes dark and unfathomable behind his glasses.

Chickening out, she turned her head this time, and stared up at the sky as he had been only a few seconds before.

“Emily.”

When she didn’t tear her gaze off the stars, he leaned in and nipped her ear.

Sucking in a breath, she looked at him again. His gaze was still dark, but there were things swirling in those dark depths now. Need. Heat.

Affection.

He stole her breath.

“Let the record state,” she said, reaching out to snatch off his glasses, “that I don’t always make the first move.”

He blinked in momentary confusion, and probably also because he could no longer see. He opened his mouth to say something, but she sank her fingers into his hair and kissed him, hard and long and deep.

“Emily,” he said when they broke for air, his voice rough and husky.

She climbed into his lap and then pushed him backward off the log so that he fell to his back in the wild grass with her straddling him.

Laughing, he slid his hands beneath her top and up her back, drawing out a delicious shiver from her. Then his hands slid slowly down her spine, and into the backs of her jeans. “Let the record also state,” he said in a delicious growl, “who made the rest of the moves.”

“Please say that it’s you,” she whispered hopefully.

He rolled, tucking her beneath him, making himself right at home between her thighs. “Got it in one,” he said against her mouth.

When Emily got home much, much later, Sara gave her a brow’s up from the couch.

“Worked late,” Emily said.

“Uh-huh.” Sara got up and picked a piece of wild grass from her hair.

“Work hazard,” Emily said, thinking of what’d happened between her and Wyatt in the wild grass by burgeoning moonlight—and then again in the staff bathroom where he’d bent her over the counter.

Sara studied her face. “Right.”

“Did you see Sammy when you got here?”

“No.”

Worry niggled at her. She dropped her purse and went back outside, walking to the edge of the grass.