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damn problems, he reminded himself.  A woman like Jillian-–the likes of which he'd sworn off after Amy died–-was the last thing he, or Annabelle, needed.
    "Before you say anything," she said as he opened his mouth, "I'd like you to come with me."  She yanked the fork from the ground and headed toward the barn.
    His eyes fell to the sway of her trim hips.  He couldn't deny that, despite the tension between them, the view was amazing.  And it stirred blood that had gone far too long without being stirred.  Whether he liked it or not.
    The damp coolness of the barn enveloped him as soon he stepped through the doors.  He sighed in relief, tugged at the shirt that had clung to his back within moments of leaving the ranch.
    The barn smelled of straw and hay and a menagerie of animals, several of which shuffled in their pens at his presence.  Wade blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.  Since he'd never had reason to be inside Doc's barn before, what he saw surprised him.
    "You couldn't have possibly brought all these with you from Pennsylvania," he said.
    "No, I didn't.  They were your Doc Fletcher's and I agreed to keep them since he didn't want to take them along."
    The barn had a short aisle with stalls on either side.  Jillian moved to the first one and Wade followed.  The gate was open and she stepped through it, lifted a cage off the ground and brought it forward.  Inside a plump white rabbit twitched its nose incessantly.  It backed to the far edge of the cage and thumped its back foot.
    "Mr. Fletcher named him Whiskers.  He's not used to me yet, but I'm working on bringing him 'round."
    She poked her fingers through the cage.  The rabbit thumped again.  She put the cage down and moved to the next, slightly larger stall.  A Billy goat came right over to the gate, its mouth reaching to nibble on her sleeve.
    "This is Zeke.  Mr. Fletcher warned me he eats everything in sight, so watch your clothes."  She gave the goat an affectionate scratch under the chin, then gently turned its face before it could gnaw on her blouse.
    "You don't keep him outside?"
    "I put him out during the day.  I was about to move them when I heard you ride up."
    A scuttling sound across the aisle drew their attention.
    "Hello, Rascal," Jillian said.  "According to Mr. Fletcher, Rascal here kept finding his way into the house and making a mess of things.  He tried shooing him away but Rascal always came back.  Miles figured the best way to keep his property intact was to keep Rascal caged."
    Jillian shrugged.  "I'm thinking of letting him go.  Doesn't seem right to keep a wild animal penned up."
    "And if he makes a mess of your house?" Wade asked.
    For the first time he saw a real smile from her and it knocked the breath from his lungs.  Her hands were smudged with dirt, the bottom of her skirt was dusty and soiled from cleaning stalls, but her face glowed.  Life filled her eyes and Wade couldn't help but stare.
    "I guess if he does it more than once I'll have to rethink the decision to keep him caged.  Come on, there's one last thing I want you to see."
    Wade followed her to the outside paddock and the pretty little chestnut mare he'd seen when he'd ridden up.  The horse leaned her head against Jillian and was rewarded with a scratch on the neck.
    "This is the only animal I brought with me from home," she began, "and her name is Hope."
    He propped a boot on the lowest rail, braced his forearms on the topmost one.  Though he had yet to figure out why she was doing this, he was interested.  And despite himself, he enjoyed the sweet sound of her voice.
    "There was an old man that lived a few miles north of the city.  He had a farm, a good one actually, at one time.  But after his wife died, his own health started to deteriorate.  He slowly began losing his mind.  It was his doctor, a friend of my father's, who said the man had animals and wasn't looking after them properly.  Honestly, most times I think he