Chapter 1 

Holy fuck. This place looks like a hotel. 

Asher Allen drove past the rustic sign that read “Diamond M Ranch” and up the long driveway toward the main house. The closer he got, the bigger the house seemed, until he started to wonder if he was in the right place. 

Two floors, a thousand windows, a picture postcard view… 

Toto, we are not in Kansas anymore. 

What the hell had he gotten himself into? It had been a long trip from New York, and he was not at all ready for… whatever this place was. He took a couple of pictures with his phone and texted them to his best friend Max. 

<Made it. This is home for the next three months. Or it’s a cult. I guess we’ll see.> 

Two stories of white plaster. Huge balconies. Three trucks in the driveway. Great big windows. 

It was wild and absolutely not kid-friendly and— 

A little naked red-headed boy went running across the second-story balcony, followed by a screaming man holding a second naked little boy. 

Wow. 

Guess I’m in the right place after all. 

He popped the trunk and pulled out his suitcase, got his backpack from the back seat, stuffed his phone in his pocket, and headed for the front steps. He hauled everything onto the first-floor porch and knocked on the door. 

Then he rang the doorbell. 

And then knocked again. 

Asher decided the guy wasn’t coming to the door if he was busy chasing naked children around upstairs, so he let himself in. 

“Hello?” he called out. “It’s Ash. Asher Allen. The nanny?” 

A young girl with hair as black as night—Samantha, if he remembered correctly—peered at him from the top of the stairs. “Are you here to take us back to Connecticut?” 

She was adorable, with big eyes, and her long hair was pulled back in a hairband. “No, I’m sorry. I’m here to help you get settled in New Mexico though. Are you Samantha?” 

“Uh-huh. Uncle Bastian is going to dunk my brothers in the tub. If he can catch Will. Walt is slower.” 

“Maybe I can help.” He left his things at the bottom of the stairs and made his way up. “Is there a trick to catching him that I should know? I bet you know all the tricks.” 

“I do. He likes to play freeze dance.” 

“Who are you talking to, girl? Is someone here?” The voice was stressed, full of a near-desperate edge. 

“Asher Allen, your nanny.” He climbed the rest of the stairs to meet his employer. The guy had such a great name. Sebastian. How dignified was that? 

“Oh. Shit. I—” A cowboy in jeans, boots, and a soaking wet T-shirt stood there with two dripping little boys in his arms. “Hey. Bastian Martindale. I assume you been talking to my mama, Stella?” 

Bastian. Okay, then. “I think so, yes. She was working with my agency. What can I do?” 

“I—” The man blinked for a second. “I don’t know. What can you do?” 

“Let him take us back to Connecticut,” the little girl snapped. 

“Sam. You’re not going anywhere.” 

Ash had his eyes and ears open. He knew very few details about what had happened, but he knew the family was grieving. This had to be so hard for these kids, especially Samantha, at her age. 

Bastian was carrying both boys now. It seemed like that game of freeze dance wasn’t going to be necessary, but he filed it away for next time. 

With boys, there was always a next time. 

“Bath time?” 

“The water is run in the big tub. You’d think they’d like it, but they fight every inch.” 

“No!” one screamed. 

As the other went, “No baf!” 

He reached out and took one of the boys from Bastian. “What’s your name?” 

“I’m Will.” 

“Oh, you’re the fast one. I’ve heard about you. I love a bath. You sure you don’t want one? I can totally go enjoy the warm water and the toys and all instead.” 

Walt frowned at him, suspicious, but Will lit up. “Toyses? I play!” 

“I don’t know, you said no bath, but if you’ve changed your mind, that’s cool. You can have some bath toys.” He looked at Samantha. “Help me out here; where am I going?” 

“Uncle Bastian’s room. He has the great big bathroom. Great big.” Samantha rolled her eyes. “Come on. I’ll show you.” 

She pointed an imperious finger, the other boy started struggling in the cowboy’s arms, and for a second, Ash could see utter exhaustion. 

“Okay, let’s go.” He went the way Samantha was pointing and set Will down in the tub, then turned to take—Walt? Was it Walt?—from Bastian. 

“I got this.” He gave Bastian a smile. “Samantha will show me where the boys’ room is so I can get them in pjs. You’re good. Go have a drink.” He started tossing everything he could find that would float into the bathtub to be used as toys. Plastic cups, washcloths, a mostly empty shampoo bottle. 

“Okay…” Bastian grabbed a towel on his way and headed out of the room with a sigh. 

“He’s not a dad. He’s not my dad.” Samantha sat on the closed commode. “Did you know my mom and dad?” 

“No, but I wish I had. He’s not trying to be your dad, Samantha; he’s just trying to give you a safe home. I think he’s new at this parenting stuff, you know?” 

The boys splashed and laughed, and he managed to get Walt shampooed without the kid even really noticing. One down… 

Will dumped a glass of water on his own head, cheering. “I do!” 

Oh, this little boy was fearless. 

“Wow, you’re good at that.” He quickly lathered up Will’s head. “Do it again!” 

“Again!” Will filled the cup and poured it over his head. “Again!” 

Walt began to cry. 

Oh, boy. 

“You want a turn, Walt?” He grabbed another cup and put it in Walt’s hands. “You can do it too.” He glanced over his shoulder at Samantha. He was going to make her feel so smart and useful she didn’t have time to miss Connecticut. “Are they always like this?” 

“They’re awful, but they’re mine, so I have to keep them.” She sighed, so dramatic. “There aren’t any fun kids here.” 

He kept his hands busy with the boys while he talked with her. Finish the bath, pop the boys in pjs—had they had dinner yet? “No? What about school? That should be starting soon, right?” 

“Yes!” Like it was a betrayal. “I’m running out of time!” 

“Running out of time for what?” He hit the drain on the bathtub and rinsed the boys off. “Towels?” 

“I’ll get them. For the summer. I don’t want to go to school here. I don’t like it here. I won’t go.” She handed him towels. “I’m going back to my old house, my old school.” 

“Oh, I see.” He understood. It wasn’t something he was going to argue with her about when he’d been here five minutes. Or really, ever. He’d just have to help her like it here. 

Assuming he figured out how to like it here. 

Gotta love a challenge. 

He took the towels and wrapped the boys in them. He picked Will up but offered Walt his hand. “Show me your room, Walt.” 

“Room! Room!” The little boy glanced at his sister, wide-eyed. “Sisser?” 

“You have the blue room. Will has the green room.” She rolled her eyes. “Not that it matters. They always end up together.” 

“Twins do. It’s a thing.” He sort of led and sort of followed Walt into a blue room and closed the door behind them, hoping that would at least slow Will down if he took off. “Pajamas…” He looked around and finally started opening dresser drawers. 

“Turtle ones.” Will pointed to the bed. “Turtle.” 

Walt went to the dresser and opened up another drawer, pulling out a pair of pajamas with moose all over them. “Dease ones.” 

“Okay. Perfect.” Turtles for Will, moose for Walt. “You guys look great.” He glanced at Samantha. “Have you all had dinner?” 

“No. Everything here is hot. Everything.” 

“Eggses! Eat all the eggses!” Will cheered, and Walt climbed up on the little bed, covering his head with the blankets. 

“Okay. You want eggs? I can make eggs, no problem. Walt? Are you coming?” He gave Walt’s little butt a pat. Scrambled eggs were a perfectly fine dinner for his first night in town. 

“Eggses. Eggses. Egg-a-ses!” Will cheered and marched to the top of the stairs, where Bastian met them. 

“No boys on the stairs alone, little dude.” Bastian met Samantha’s eyes. “You going to eat?” 

“Are you going to cook?” 

Those lips tightened, and Bastian shrugged one shoulder. “Starve, then. I don’t care. Stay up here with your brother.” 

“Fine.” Samantha crossed her arms. 

“Whoa, now. I can cook. No one needs to starve. Good rule about the stairs though. You got this one? Let me grab Walt.” He went back for the boy with his head still under the blanket and scooped him up. “Dinner, buddy.” 

Walt just snuggled right into him with a little hum, but that was it. No fight. Just a snuggle. 

Poor kid. That was a little boy who wanted his mommy. Will probably did too; he just seemed better at distracting himself. 

When he got to the stairs, everyone was already gone, probably on their way to the kitchen. That was quite a staring match between Bastian and Samantha. She was angry, and he was out of patience—or just plain energy—for it. He couldn’t blame either of them. This was impossibly hard, incredibly unfair, and there was nothing either of them could do about it. 

Well, Bastian could have refused to take the kids in, Ash supposed, but he hadn’t, and something about the guy’s vibe told Ash that he wouldn’t have even thought about that. Bastian seemed like a family guy—his mother had set all of this up, so they must be close too. 

The kitchen was tense when he walked in. Samantha was at the table with Will, and Bastian had his back turned to her, making something. Coffee? 

He walked over and stood beside Bastian. “I’m sorry that I just barged into your home like that, but it seemed like you could use a minute to yourself.” 

“Yeah. A minute. Thanks, man. I’ll get you set up with your rooms and everything here in a bit. I—Thanks for jumping in.” 

The kitchen door thumped open. “Boss? You need to sign off on all this sh—shtuff from the auction house.” 

The man who came stomping in was filthy, smelled bad, and had a voice like a foghorn. 

Walt immediately started wailing, while Will launched himself toward the big guy—who had obviously been rolling in manure. 

Samantha caught Will by his collar and pulled him back, which wasn’t ideal but got the job done. He bounced Walt on his hip and tried not to wrinkle his nose too obviously at the stench. “Oh, good catch, Samantha.” 

The temptation to tell the guy that they were all standing right there, and he needn’t shout was almost irresistible, but he managed for the sake of… something. Respect. Politeness. Just being too new to rock the boat yet. Something. He hadn’t been here an hour and all he’d seen was chaos. The house was serene and stately on the outside, and a whirlwind of emotion and noise and… stinky on the inside. 

“You know it. I took a tumble out there chasing that dinosaur chicken. Sammy, girl, you know your face is going to freeze that way?” 

“Oh for… those ostriches are going to be the death of me. Wylie, this is Allen. Asher Allen. He’s the guy Mama hired from back East.” 

“Well, Allen Asher Allen! Triple A! I’m pleased to meetcha. I need that stuff done for the auction before tomorrow, Boss. Don’t forget.” The big man winked at him. “Y’all need anything from town? Tacos? Beer? A pair of penguins from the zoo?” 

Soap? 

God, that almost came out of his mouth. 

“Penwings!” Will tried to make another run for Wylie, but Samantha was on it. 

“It’s good to meet you, Wylie.” 

Do not say “coyote”. 

Ash was going to get in trouble here. He could feel it. 

“We’ll have a beer later, huh? Everyone will want to meet you. Don’t forget that—” 

Bastian slapped one hand on the counter. “I said I’ll do it, man. Get your skanky ass out of here, or I’ll tell Anna you tracked shit through her kitchen!” 

Whoa. 

Ash flinched and reflexively took a couple of steps backward. Walt was practically inconsolable now, crying into his shoulder. Even Will was a little wide-eyed. 

Samantha huffed and shook her head like all the adults had gone crazy, and maybe they had. 

And who was Anna? He was sure he’d been told Bastian lived alone. 

Wylie, though, he just chuckled and shook his head. “I ain’t scairt. My old lady is a paragon of womanhood. I’ll bring tacos in a bit. See you later, Boss, Triple A, Sammy, lost boys.” 

Huh. Wylie said “ain’t” and used “paragon” correctly in the same breath. This place was wild. “It’s just two A’s actually…” He didn’t manage to get that out before Wylie closed the door. 

Everyone went still in the kitchen for a second, and then Walt started wailing again. “Okay… hey, buddy. It’s all good.” Hopefully. Bastian needed a drink and a nap. And maybe not to have children around, but here they were. “Can I make the kids some eggs?” 

“Of course. What do you need besides eggs? Cheese? Milk? The pots and pans are here.” He opened up a cabinet, and the stacks of pans gleamed. Nice. 

“Yes, all of those things. A mild cheese if you have one? Thank you.” He turned to Samantha. “Do you guys like toast with your eggs? You want them wrapped in a tortilla? Something else?” 

“No tortillas. Only my daddy ate tortillas.” 

Bastian took Walt from him. “Hush, pup. I got you. We’ll go see the puppies after you eat, if you’re nice.” 

Walt grabbed Bastian, leaned in and whispered, and Bastian nodded. “Sure, you can have a tortilla, pup.” 

Ash hid his grin and started scrambling eggs in a large bowl. “So, no spices, Samantha? What about the boys?” 

“Will is no spice. Walt is a New Mexican in his soul, aren’t you, pup? He likes to share chile with his tio, don’t you?” 

“Tio?” He found the cheese and milk, and a loaf of bread. 

“It’s Spanish for uncle. I’m their Tio Bastian.” 

“He’s Uncle Bastian,” Samantha insisted. 

“That works too. I’m easy.” And furious, but holding it in, Ash could see it. 

“What’s Spanish for nanny? Or… Manny?” He chuckled, pouring the eggs into the pan and listened to them sizzle. He popped in the toast for Samantha and pulled out tortillas for the boys. He’d like Will to learn to like a tortilla; it made eating so easy. 

“El niñero.” 

Oh, okay. That was actually really pleasant to the ear. 

“I speak French.” Samantha shook her head. “Not Spanish.” 

“You can speak both.” Bastian didn’t sound the slightest bit worried. 

“Moi aussi, Samantha. But we can learn Spanish, too. And German. And Italian also, if we want to.” 

He noticed then that Walt was quiet. Walt trusted Bastian. Good to know. Maybe Bastian was right about the boy being New Mexican in his soul. 

“Did I tell y’all there is a new foal in the barn? She’s a pretty thing. In a couple of days, we’ll go see her.” 

“You have a foal? How cool. I’ve never seen one except in pictures or TV. What about you Samantha?” 

“I guess I could see her. There’s nothing else to do around here.” 

“Nope. Just miles and miles of nature.” Bastian was trying not to explode—that was obvious—but the cracks were starting to show. 

“Moo cows, Sisser!” Will pronounced. “Kiki and doggies and—” He looked to Bastian. 

“Churro sheep and coyotes and llamas.” 

“Cowdodies! Aroo!” 

He smiled at that because it was so adorable. Bastian had been putting in the time with these kids, despite everything. He put the eggs on plates, wrapping two up with cheese inside tortillas, and set them down on the table for the boys, then put toast on Samantha’s plate. 

“Do you want cheese on your eggs, Samantha?” 

“Yes?” She looked so suspicious, so worried about her answer. 

“Great.” He added some cheese and folded the eggs around it so it would melt. “Here you go.” He leaned toward her and gave her a wink. “You’re allowed to like what you like.” 

“Yeah. I don’t like spicy food. I don’t like oats. I don’t like it here.” 

Bastian sat with Walt. “You want to sit on your seat, pup? Eat some good eggs?” 

Walt nodded and sat down to eat, tearing into the tortilla. Will had already finished half of his. 

“What can I make for you, Bastian? Or should we have some dinner after we put the kids down and… talk a little?” 

“I think you and I have to make a plan. I’ll need to show you your rooms and all that. How about planning to meet post getting the twins down?” 

“Sounds good. I’ve got this if you want to relax a little, or… go see what Wylie needed you for.” Helpful. He was there to look after the kids, but also to be a help to Bastian. That’s what Bastian’s mother had said. My boy needs help. 

“Perfect. I’m going to go send that information to the auction house, then we’ll see the puppies, okay y’all?” 

“Pees.” Walt nodded, offering Bastian a smile. 

This was a good start. Jumping in was somehow better than taking it slow and awkward introductions. He was here now, working already, helping where he could. 

The hardest part of this job wasn’t going to be two wild twin boys like he’d thought. It was going to be Samantha. 

And her tio.

“Trent, buddy. You gotta get your shit together. You gotta wake up, because you’re worrying folks.” 

Trent tilted his head, or he tried to. Okay, that hurt. Let’s not do that again. All right? 

All right, he told himself. What was the very last thing he remembered? 

He was in… somewhere. Nashville? He thought it was Nashville. 

Maybe New Orleans? Could be New Haven. Somewhere with an N. 

Surely not New Mexico? Hmm. 

No, it was definitely Nashville. The sidewalks singing—he remembered that. 

Okay, good. And then after that? 

He took a deep breath. Oh, yeah, that hurt too. 

So, he must have been riding. Hurting like this meant a wreck. 

He couldn’t smell dirt, so that was probably good. 

Of course, if he couldn’t smell dirt, he didn’t know where he was, and he had to wake up? 

That meant he was either in the hospital or in an ambulance. Both of those were bad. 

Didn’t sound like an ambulance. Didn’t feel like one either. They tended to be tight and loud and jostly, and someone was always bugging you. 

“I’m serious, Trent. You wake your happy ass up. I will kick your butt.” 

Okay, that voice—he knew that was Rope. His best buddy. His traveling partner. His neighbor. If Rope was here, it was serious. 

He licked his lips, wondering if he should ask for a drink or what the hell had happened to him first. 

“Thirsty,” was the word he croaked out. 

Well. That was fair. His body decided what it wanted to do, and fuck his curious brain. 

“Yeah? How about some ice chips? They don’t want you puking.” 

“Surgery?” he asked, because that was the answer to no puking. 

“You know it, buddy. You got yourself all tore up. Shoulder. Collarbone. Your right arm. Got some good bruises too. But they pretty much had to put that whole right side back together. It’s gross. Silas will be over the moon to see.” 

“Ice chips.” 

So, the shoulder blade and the collarbone break explained why it hurt to nod. At least his mouth wasn’t wired shut. That always sucked. 

“Did I win any money?” 

A sliver of ice slid over his lips, and he moaned. Oh, that felt so good. So damn good. 

“No, sir. Not a dime. Gonna make some money off talking about this wreck, if you’re lucky.” 

He should have retired last year. 

“Home.” If Trent was broke, he needed to be home. 

“Day after tomorrow. I rented a van. We’ll just drive it.” 

“Jude?” 

Rope snorted. “We got a baby coming, man. Any day. He’s at home. Just in case.” 

“The boy?” 

“I am not bringing my son out here to drive. He’s not old enough to help with that part. No, he is in school. You gotta focus, man. It’s April. He’s in school.” 

“Right. Sorry.” He wasn’t going to say that he didn’t need Rope to drive him home, or that he was going to manage it by himself or any of that shit because they knew each other well enough to know better. He’d driven Rope more places than he cared to admit, and his buddy had done the same for him. That was what traveling partners were for. 

Not that Rope was riding. Rope was retired. Rope had been retired for something like… two years, right? 

They hadn’t gone backward in time, surely. 

No. Rope said there was a baby coming, and they’d just done that, seemed like. Back last summer? Maybe they started back in the spring, after talking to every damn human being in Texas about having a baby. 

The simple fact was that Rope was still retired. 

“Man. I’m here for the sponsors. I was doing a signing and introducing that new bull.” 

This was why a man had a riding partner. 

Because they knew each other, and they didn’t have to ask stupid questions. 

Rope would just give him stupid answers. That was how it ought to be. 

“Did we go in on yaks together?” 

Rope cracked up, the laughter covering up the constant beeping. “You fucking know we did. You know how much yak butter sells for? You know how funny it is to watch cowboys try to milk a yak?” 

“Want to go home.” 

“I know. When you get the tubes out of your arms and out of your dick, we’re on it. We’ll just drive home, and get you settled.” 

“Swear to God?” 

“I swear by all I hold holy, man, and I got a lot of that.” Rope chuckled and leaned down, kissed his forehead like he was a little boy. “It’s time to hang your bull rope up, man, and come home. We’ll raise yaks and horses and cows and be happy.” 

Rope was right. He hated to admit it, but he might have done ridden his last ride. 

Maybe it was time to become an old cowboy with the ranch.