“Her name is Annie,” he said. He tramped back to the SUV and reached inside for the diaper bag that had been sitting beside the car seat. Back on dry land, he handed the bag and the baby to Laura. “Whatever her mother had in mind when she stashed Annie in my car, I hope she remembered to provide the fixings for Annie’s care.” He managed a grin. “Too bad she didn’t take the time to explain what I need to do with them.”

Laura whistled at the watchful dog. “Don’t worry, your daughter is in good hands. I’ll take care of her for now. Make your call, and follow me when you’re ready.”

While he punched out the number of the car-rental agency in Grand Junction on his cell, Sam watched Laura Evans canter off with Annie in her arms. In spite of his dim view of women at the moment, he couldn’t help but feel attracted to the feisty rancher.

To his disgust, he was put on hold, but this time he didn’t get as steamed as he usually did. The wait gave him time to check out the way Laura Evans filled out her form-fitting jeans and cotton shirt. He actually admired the picture she made—until he thought about the reason she carried a rifle.

He glanced at the weathered buildings, the lack of any real activity that bespoke a successful ranch. If the lady’s property was a paying proposition, it would be a surprise to him.

It looked as if Laura Evans ought to make the best of the situation and sell out to the highest bidder, instead of threatening would-be buyers with a rifle.

Someone finally answered his telephone call. He swore under his breath at the reply and put the phone back in his pocket. He wasn’t going anywhere, at least no time soon.

Shivering, he reached into the SUV for his duffel bag. Considering his dripping shirt and jeans and muddy boots, Annie wasn’t the only one who needed changing.

He knew he had to find a way to move on once he and Annie were clean and dry. Maybe calling the spa and asking for transportation would work. Sure as hell, if someone was trying to harass Laura Evans or frighten her into selling her ranch, the last thing she needed was to have him and Annie around to add to her problems. And the last thing he needed was to become involved.

As far as he could tell, paying for the damage he’d caused wasn’t going to help Laura Evans, either. Considering the mess it sounded she was in, what the lady needed was a miracle.

Sam locked the banged-up SUV and, with a last rueful glance at the broken fence, trudged through the mud and up the small rise to the ranch house. From what he could see, the only tall structure around had been the water tower. Just his luck.

Outside of a weathered barn and a few newly painted small cabins, the redwood-sided ranch house was the only building worth a damn, in his opinion. Judging from a recent coat of oil-based stain, someone must have paid some attention to putting the place in shape. A futile effort if ever there was one, but he had to admire the effort. A dozen sheep grazed in a distant meadow. If they were the extent of the Evans herd, no wonder she was in trouble.

He noticed newly planted rosebushes ringing the porch as he approached the house. Stones, painted white, lined the freshly raked walk. Alongside the house, two lawn swings sat under the shade of an oak tree. The only sign of life was an elderly cowhand busy assembling what appeared to be some kind of wooden jungle gym.

A jungle gym? Sam gazed around for a sign of kids. Outside of the cowboy and the dog now sprawled on the porch watching him closely, there wasn’t another soul in sight. He shrugged and continued squishing his way in his muddy boots to the ranch house.

Not bad, he thought as he trudged up the wooden steps. Children or not, at least someone cared enough about the place to try to make it look decent.

The interior of the house, as he stood behind a screen door gazing in, surprised him even more. In contrast to the worn exterior, comfortable maple furniture had been burnished to a mellow yellow-brown sheen. Inviting rose-and-sea-foam-green chintz pillows had been thrown onto a large upholstered couch protected by crocheted white doilies. Hand-hooked rugs blanketed the polished oak floor in front of the couch. A huge stone fireplace covered a wall. Two comfortable-looking armchairs were drawn up in front of the fireplace. Sam sighed. The room looked mighty inviting after the accident and shower he’d just endured.

It was the kind of setting his mother and grandmother would have appreciated. In fact, he would have enjoyed a home like this if his profession hadn’t kept him on the move. And if he’d had a wife to welcome him home.

He glanced up to see Laura standing at the door and watching him expectantly. “What?”

“You’ve forgotten something.” She gestured to his mud-caked boots. “Please take off your boots and leave them by the door before you come in.”

Hopping on one foot at a time, Sam managed to comply. To his disgust, even his socks were soaked. Under Laura’s watchful gaze, he took them off, dropped them and his boots outside the door and gingerly entered the house barefoot. Damn, he thought, there was something about not having his boots on that put him at a clear disadvantage.