The Texan's Tennessee Romance / The Rancher & the Reluctant Princess. Gina Wilkins

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      Casey parked in front of her cabin and turned off the truck. “I’ll put the furniture back on the deck before I leave.”

      “I’ll help you.”

      “Thanks. I could use your help with the table, especially.”

      They went inside only long enough to freshen up and for Natalie to make a pot of coffee. They drank half a cup each, just for the energy boost, and then she poured the rest into an insulated carafe for drinking later. Casey went out to get started on the deck, and she followed him after changing from her hiking boots into more comfortable sneakers.

      They had just replaced the last chair when Casey looked past her and smiled. “The dog’s back. Want to bring some fresh water and a bowl for the food I brought?”

      She’d almost forgotten about the dog. “I’ll be right back.”

      The dog waited by the edge of the woods, watching them with the now-familiar wary anticipation. Casey set the bowls on the ground, talking in the quietly reassuring voice he used with the stray. “It’s dry food today, not fancy meat, but it’s better for you. More of the nutrients you need. So try it before you turn up your nose, okay?”

      Natalie smiled. The dog wasn’t in a position to turn up its nose at any kind of food. It attacked the dry food as hungrily as it had the meat loaf and pot roast, crunching noisily as it gulped down the meal.

      “He is a boy,” Casey murmured, having caught a glimpse of something Natalie couldn’t see because of all the matted fur.

      “So you guessed correctly.”

      “He just acted like another guy. Right, buddy?”

      Still chewing, the dog glanced at Casey and gave a quick wave of its tail.

      Natalie and Casey looked at each other in surprise. “Did you see that?” he asked.

      “I did. He wagged his tail. I think he’s starting to respond to you.”

      “Maybe he is, a little.” Taking a step closer to the dog, Casey crouched and held out a hand.

      The dog glanced at that hand, then at Casey’s face. He stretched out his head a couple of inches and sniffed the air around Casey’s hand. His tail wagged a couple more times. Natalie held her breath. She didn’t think the dog was in any way aggressive, but she still felt as if Casey was taking a risk reaching out that way.

      The dog looked up at Casey from beneath what, to Natalie, looked like beetled brows. As if it were trying to gauge Casey’s motivations. And then it took a step closer to him.

      Very carefully, moving very slowly, Casey touched the dog’s head. He spoke in a low voice, “That’s a good boy. We’re getting to be friends, aren’t we? You just need to learn to trust me a little.”

      The dog wagged its tail once more, before moving back. He eyed Casey for another minute, glanced at Natalie, then turned and trotted away. Natalie couldn’t imagine why the past few moments had left her with a lump in her throat.

      Straightening, Casey smiled at her, and she thought she saw a hint of her own emotions in his eyes. “He’s getting there,” he said.

      “Yes, I suppose he is. How long do you think it will take until he’s ready to be placed in a home? Or at least a shelter for the winter?”

      “I’ll give it another couple of days, while I finish up the work here. In the meantime, I’ll ask Kyle if he knows anyone who might be interested in taking the dog in.”

      “It’s starting to get dark. I have some food ready to heat. I thought you might be hungry early since we had such a light lunch.”

      “As a matter of fact, I’m starving,” he admitted. “I could almost eat a bowl of that kibble.”

      She laughed. “You won’t have to resort to that. I’ll heat one of Aunt Jewel’s famous chicken casseroles.”

      “Sounds great.” He turned with her toward the house, each of them carrying one of the bowls in which they’d served the stray food and water. “I’ve got to wash my hands. Our dog needs a bath.”

      Something about the way he said “our dog” took her aback. That sounded just a bit too cozy for her comfort, though she doubted that he’d meant it quite that way.

      They talked about Casey’s work schedule during dinner. He would be over early the next morning, he said, to begin caulking, a job that would take at least a full day. Window washing and the hot tub installation were also on his To-Do list for the week.

      “That sounds like a lot,” Natalie commented, trying not to sound envious that he had worthwhile things to do.

      He shrugged. “I like to stay busy.”

      “So do I,” she murmured, looking away from him.

      He waited a beat, then asked casually, “How’s the job search going?”

      She couldn’t meet his eyes as she replied, “I’m waiting to hear from some people.”

      “I see. Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for soon.”

      “Yes, so do I. Would you like some more coffee?”

      He shook his head. “No, I’ve had plenty. I guess I’ll head home.”

      Home. Though she knew it was just a figure of speech, she found it rather odd that he referred to his temporary cabin that way. Didn’t he miss his life in Dallas? His family and friends? He certainly didn’t talk about his life there much, not that she had exactly encouraged discussions about their lives before they’d met.

      She stood, then winced when her bruised thigh protested the movement. She should have known Casey wouldn’t miss that telltale expression.

      “Are you hurting?”

      She shook her head. “Just a little sore from my fall. It’s nothing, only a bruise.”

      “Bet you wish that hot tub was already installed, don’t you?” he teased.

      She smiled. “It would probably feel good tonight. But I suppose I’ll make do with a hot bath, instead.”

      He had followed her to the sink, carrying his plate and utensils from dinner. When she turned, he was right there, standing so close they were almost touching, his gaze locked with hers in a way that made her breath catch.

      “Am I going to get my face slapped if I say I wouldn’t mind joining you in a hot tub sometime?” he asked, his tone somehow whimsical and serious all at the same time.

      “I don’t slap,” she replied a bit huskily. “I punch.”

      He laughed. “Of course you do.”

      And then his smile faded as he reached up to touch a corner of her mouth. “Have I mentioned how much I like these dimples?”

      “You’re flirting again.”

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