“I heard about that. He found you in that big storm, didn’t he?”

Jeremy nodded enthusiastically. “He saved me. And Mr. Chance let me keep him. He said Maverick picked me, and you can’t argue when a dog picks his human.”

She laughed. “That sounds like Chance.”

And it did. Chance Rafferty had a rather unique way of looking at things. She was very glad fate had conspired to give him the kind of love and life he deserved, finally. It made her feel a little wistful, but that was only because her own personal life was darn near a desert.

“Are you waiting for someone?” she asked.

The boy nodded. “My uncle T. He’s supposed to pick me up today. He just got here last night. On an airplane.”

She smiled. “Faster than driving.” She didn’t know where the uncle was coming from, but if it was outside of central Texas her statement was a fact.

“He was gonna be right here when I got out. He got here late, and I was already asleep. We’re going to do some fun stuff, to make up for me having to go to summer school. Even if it is only three days a week.”

Her smile widened. “So you’re close to your uncle?”

“He’s the best,” the boy said simply.

“I’m glad. Everybody should have an uncle like that.”

“Do you?” the boy asked.

“I do,” she said. “My uncle Chuck. He’s a hoot—always up for crazy things. He went to Alaska last year, just to see it and camp out in the snow.”

“Cool!”

“Very. Cold, even,” she said solemnly.

It took a moment for the boy to get it, but he did and laughed. Emily felt a new tension in Lobo, not an alert but what she’d learned was more of an awareness signal.

She was about to look around for what had caught the dog’s attention when Jeremy shifted his gaze to behind her and yelped, “Uncle T! Over here!”

She turned, and as was second nature now, assessed the man striding toward them. Tall, at least six foot, muscular, dark hair under a black cowboy hat that looked well worn, maybe a day’s worth of dark stubble, explained no doubt by the travel day, since he didn’t seem to be the type who would choose it as a style statement.

And what the heck do you know? You haven’t even met him yet.

But even as she thought it her brow was furrowing. She hadn’t met him before, had she? So why did he seem…familiar?

“Uncle T, I was afraid you forgot me.”

The man covered the last three steps in a single stride and grabbed Jeremy and practically tossed him up onto his broad shoulders.

“I would never forget you, buddy. I just got lost.”

“That’s Lobo,” Jeremy said, pointing at the dog who was up on his feet now, but in an unthreatening manner, apparently having taken his lead from the boy’s response. It was still a learning curve with her and Lobo—her learning him more than the other way around—but so far, it was working perfectly.

“And she’s one of Chief Shane’s people.” Kids always had permission to call the chief that, and it always made her smile when she heard it. “She made some bullies leave me alone.”

He turned then to look at her, and she couldn’t miss how bright and blue his eyes were, and thickly—unfairly—lashed. And he still looked familiar.

“Then I owe you thanks.” His gaze flicked to the name badge over her left chest pocket. “Officer Stratton,” he added with a polite nod. Then, with a glance down at Lobo, asked in apparent seriousness, “Is Officer Lobo the correct way to acknowledge you?”

“Just Lobo will do,” she said, smothering a laugh. But she had to admit she liked the way he spoke to the dog with respect.

“Nice to meet you, Lobo.”

The dog’s tail wagged slightly, but she noticed he didn’t reach out as most people would to pet him. But he did glance at her questioningly, and she couldn’t resist. “I believe the tail wag means you may pet him.”