“Woo-hoo! Go get ’em, cowboy!”
Emma Maxwell Norman pushed a stroller with her two-year-old twin daughters closer to the Big Heart Ranch main corral, where hoots and hollers of excitement filled the air.
“Excuse me,” she murmured while nudging her way past wall-to-wall people.
Western hats shaded faces against the glare of an early November Oklahoma sun, as the staff and kids of the children’s ranch crowded next to each other atop rungs of the rail wood fencing. Eager children had even settled on the shoulders of adults to view the action in the main ranch arena.
Roars of laughter went up at intervals and heads turned left, then right, following the activity.
“Hey there, Miss Emma,” Dutch Stevens said. The weathered cowboy tipped his hat and stroked his graying handlebar mustache. “Folks, let Miss Emma in.”
The group of male and female wranglers stepped aside.
Inside the stroller, Emma’s twins, Rachel and Elizabeth, barely stirred from their naps as another excited cheer went up. The toddlers had grown accustomed to life on the Timber, Oklahoma, children’s ranch and thankfully could sleep through most of the noise inherent to a ranch that was home to sixty children.
At the far end of the corral, Emma’s big brother, Travis, drove a small ATV in figure eights while pulling a dummy steer and kicking up a cloud of red dirt and sand. A rider straddling a chestnut gelding flew across the corral in an attempt to rope the steer.
There was no surprise at seeing her brother putting on a show, but who was the rider?
“What day is this?” Emma asked Dutch.
“Sunday, ma’am.”
“That’s what I thought.” She frowned. “I didn’t see an event on the schedule for today.”
“Naw, this wasn’t planned. Your brother and his friend are having some fun.”
“They certainly drew a crowd.”
“I’ll say. That big feller on the horse is mighty good. Knows how to rope and he’s faster than small-town gossip. He ought to go professional.”
Applause went up as the horse and rider moved to the right and his lasso caught the bright green mechanical animal below both horns.
Then he smoothly dismounted, pulled off his navy blue ball cap and took a bow, displaying short neatly trimmed brown hair. There was something hauntingly familiar about the cowboy in the denim jacket and Wranglers.
When he turned to face the south side of the corral, Emma’s head jerked back. For a moment, all she could do was stare.
Zach Norman was back.
A shiver ran through her, and she grabbed the weathered wooden rail for support.
Her brother-in-law. The last she heard, Zach was headquartered with his navy SEAL team in Coronado, California. Except for a brief visit after the twins were born, she hadn’t really spent any time with Zach since the death of her husband, Zach’s half brother, Steve, a little over three years ago.
“Miss Emma, you all right?” Dutch asked. “You’re looking mighty pale.”
Emma blinked and put a smile on her face. “Yes. I’m fine.”
As she turned back to the corral, her gaze met Zach’s. She knew the instant he saw her. His grin faded and the sparkle in his eyes was replaced by a shuttered expression.
Maybe it was the fact that they had different mothers, but Zach was nothing like his younger brother.
Both Steve and Zach were tall, with hair the color of toffee, though that was where any similarity between the brothers ended. Steve had clear blue guileless eyes. Zach’s eyes were silvery gray. When he simmered with emotion, they became the color of the sky before a storm.
While Steve had literally been the boy next door, easygoing and laid-back, Zach could only be described as complicated.
Big, capable and brooding, he could steal your breath with one sweeping gaze. Although she’d known Zach since the day she and her siblings were plucked from foster care, there were times when she felt like she didn’t know him at all.
When his gaze moved in her direction, it seemed he could see her soul. No one else could do that. Even now, as their eyes connected, she felt unable to look away. Emma swallowed