Page 24 of Her Cowboy Reunion

“I know.” He acknowledged that with a sip of his coffee. “But I need to learn, too, and the best way to do that is to be here. I won’t get in your way. And yeah, I’ve seen a few mares foal over the years, but there wasn’t this much riding on it. So this is different.”

How could she argue with that? “Okay.”

He dozed off twenty minutes in. Tucked into the wide office chair, his chin dropped onto his chest and his breathing changed.

He looked…vulnerable. That wasn’t a word she’d normally associate with a strong man like Heath, but it fit the moment. She watched the monitor, played solitaire on her phone, and when things began moving along two hours later, she nudged him awake. “Hey. Wake up. We’re getting close.”

He shot upright, frowned, then seemed to remember what he was doing. “I fell asleep?”

“A quick nap,” she told him. “Needed, I expect.”

He looked at his watch and groaned. “Over two hours. I shouldn’t have sat down.”

“Well, all you missed was some flank staring, walking and bodily functions. But now we’ve got a foal presenting. Let’s walk down to the outer corridor in case she needs help. But make sure your phone is on vibrate. I want a quiet birth. No distractions.”

“All right.” She wasn’t sure if he took direction from her that easily because he felt guilty about the nap or because he wanted her to feel in charge. Either option worked. They crossed to the south-facing stables and slipped down the hall where they could follow the process through their phones but be close enough to intervene if needed. Lizzie hoped it wouldn’t be needed.

* * *

Thirty-seven minutes later a perfect sorrel filly was born. Wide-eyed and long-legged, the newborn horse blinked, peeking out from the clean bed of straw. “She’s a pretty little thing, Liz.”

“Watch the mom,” Lizzie spoke softly as she moved around the foaling pen. “New moms can get protective and spook easy.”

“And with a lot more force behind it than a ewe,” he whispered back, but they didn’t need to worry. Clampett’s Girl tended her baby, took a long drink, then cleaned her foal again.

Lizzie pulled out a checklist once they closed the stall door. “Done. I’m going to bunk here so I can keep an eye on things.”

She was going to rest here? On the floor? “Won’t the app wake you upstairs in the apartment?”

“I want to be close enough to check her every hour for the first few.” She set her phone and propped herself in a corner outside the stall.

It felt wrong to leave her there, which was silly because he’d spent many a night in the lambing barns. But this wasn’t him. It was Lizzie. And when she stuck a ridiculously small pillow behind her head, he wanted to snatch it up, send her to bed and offer to watch the horse for her.

She gazed up at him from her spot, looking so much like the girl she’d been twelve years before. But different, too. “It’s my job, Heath.” She kept her voice quiet. Matter-of-fact. And quite professional. “People don’t inherit a quarter share of a ranch worth millions without putting in some time. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She was right. He knew that.

But walking away from her, down that hall, through the door into the cold spring night, was one of the toughest things he’d done in a long time. He did it because it was the right thing to do. But he hated every minute of it.

* * *

Lizzie stirred, scowled at her phone, then closed her eyes.

She’d checked the foal twice. The first time she’d been sleeping, curled up against her mother. The next time she was nursing, and that was only thirty minutes before.

What woke her?

She didn’t know. That fuzzy stray dog, maybe? She hadn’t seen it in days, but something was feasting on the food dish she’d put behind the barn. She could only hope it was the stray brindle dog.

The sound came again and she recognized the noise instantly. The bleat of a sheep in trouble. Not that she had any experience with sheep before this week, but no one could survive a week on a sheep ranch and not hear the various sounds of the ewe. Happy. Playful. Sad. Worried.

And this one sounded very, very worried.

She stood, stretched and walked the length of the barn hall separating the north-and south-facing stalls. A horse was walking her way, clomping quietly along and behind the horse was a very unhappy sheep. “Aldo?”

The bronze-skinned man turned toward her voice. Across his lap were discontented twin lambs. They bawled softly to their mother and she replied in kind, only louder and with more force behind every bleat.

“What happened?”

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