Page 10 of The Cowboy's Best Friend

But it wasn’t until she drove up the hill on the far side of the little valley, and headed out into the hills that that words seem to really take root. Not until she turned in at the marker that read High Mountain Ranch and took the offshoot dirt road that led to Boone’s, that was.

She didn’t go straight to her new, unpacked apartment. She took the other fork that led up to his house. It was like second nature to park in his yard, walk up to his door, and let herself in the way she always did.

Because wherever Boone was, she belonged.

Inside, he was where she expected him to be. Kicked back on that massive leather couch, wearing jeans and a T-shirt and reading a book.

Her angel at home.

Sierra didn’t say anything. She came in, sat down on the couch next to him, and swiped the remote control from his coffee table. She turned his television on and found a program she liked, then unbuckled the uncomfortable shoes from her feet. Then she tucked her legs up beneath her as she sat there in the pretty skirt she’d wore to impress her mother, who had not been impressed.

That, she told herself,is a Marietta problem. And you don’t live in Marietta anymore.

Boone kept reading. Sierra watched her show.

After a while of this, Boone—not looking up from his book—asked, “So it went well, then?”

“Absolute carnage,” Sierra replied.

Boone only grunted. But Sierra felt even more of the night melt away.

And she stayed there, marinating in the sheer goodness that was time with her best friend, until she thought she might fall asleep. Then she got up, didn’t bother to put her shoes on, and waved her hand at Boone as padded out into the night. Where all she had to do was pretty much coast downhill to her new home, climb the stairs, and then pass out in the bed that Boone had made for her.

Because he was the best friend she’d ever had. He’d helped her escape. She couldn’t imagine how she would have done any of this without him.

And as she drifted off to sleep, Sierra started dreaming of ways she could repay him.

Her sweet, kind angel.

Chapter Three

“Have you completelylost your mind this time?”

Boone didn’t have to look up from the stretch of fencing he was working on to recognize his younger brother’s voice. He hadn’t heard Knox drive up, way out here where Carey land flirted with National Forest, but then again, he’d had other things to focus on.

Like the work he was doing, out here in a heartbreakingly beautiful Montana June afternoon. Days like this reminded him how truly lucky he was to live the life he did, not that he was likely to forget. Not when he got to spend his time getting his sweat on out here in a part of the world so beautiful that he wasn’t sure there were any words for it. The Rockies were a blue smudge in the distance all around. Closer in there were specific hills and forests, the easy roll of Carey land, and civilization nowhere to be seen in any direction.

Not to mention, Sierra was living in a home he’d built with the same two hands that he was using to do his work today. Sleeping in a bed that was technically his.

Life was pretty good.

So it made sense that Knox would show up and poke at it.

The youngest of the five Carey brothers walked around so he could lean against a mended part of the fence. He and Boone were the closest in age and Boone had always thought they looked alike, even if he was brawnier. They were both darkly blond, with the height and ranginess that they’d all inherited from Zeke. Knox was leaner, but they both had the same dark hazel eyes they’d gotten from their mother.

It was Boone’s opinion that Knox had also gotten more than his fair share of Belinda’s excitability.

An opinion Knox did not share, but then, he wouldn’t.

“I know you heard me,” his younger brother said, grinning in that devil-may-care way of his that had always been a major key in getting himself out of trouble. That and being the baby of the family. “And I also know that you know exactly what I’m talking about. Sierra Tate?”

“Yes,” Boone said, making his voice gruffer the necessary, not that Knox was ever dissuaded by such things. “I’m familiar Sierra Tate, Knox.”

His brother shook his head. He pulled off his Stetson and ran his hand through his hair. “In my whole life, I’ve never met a man more committed to torturing himself than you. It’s like you’re in a competition to see how many crosses you can climb up on to in the course of a single day. And every day, you win.”

“Don’t you have anything to do?” Boone asked, eyeing the last bit of the fencing he’d finally secured. “Because I know you didn’t drive out all this way to help me.”

“I’m nothing if not helpful,” Knox said with a laugh.

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