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out on the couch. Maybe she’d just close her eyes for a bit and relax before starting supper.

    Harper arrived at the Turner ranch at six the next morning and parked the truck where she’d seen it the day before. But there was no sign of Bran’s vehicle. Huh. Where could he be? Out in the field?
    Maybe he’s not home yet from his late-night sexcapades.
    With his rugged features and the sexy, laid-back way Bran carried himself, no doubt the cowboy had his pick of women to share his bed. Would she face that situation in the coming months—a woman rolling out of Bran’s bed before they started morning chores?
    That thought didn’t sit well with her. Neither did sitting around in the truck in the cold and waiting for him.
    Maybe she should explore, get the lay of the land, so to speak. She’d dressed warmly enough to be outside. No reason she had to stay in the pickup with her hands primly folded.
    Harper checked out the farthest barn first, wondering if Bran had parked to load up supplies for the still mysterious “ranch work.” No sign of him. The next metal building, filled with unrecognizable machine parts, had that same eerie emptiness. She wandered back via the driveway, deciding to check the old-fashioned wooden barn. As soon as she cleared the far side, something moved.
    What the heck?
    She waited. Sure enough, she saw that blur of white again and chanced a peek at an enclosed pen. Looked like she’d found the goats. Amused by their antics, she watched them, staying out of sight. A big one climbed on the highest point of the metal shed, which was enclosed inside the pen. Another one, smaller than the first, scrambled up on top too, as they played a game of king of the mountain.
    Goats perched on the edge of the shed, peering over the side? Priceless. What a killer photo op. Harper slid her cell phone from her pocket and clicked the camera option. Keeping the lens trained on the curious animals, she stepped into their line of sight and said, “Say goat cheese.”
    Almost in slow motion, the goats tumbled off the edge of the shed. They hit the ground with a muffled thud and then stayed still.
    Horrified, Harper opened the gate and raced into the pen. She froze in front of the motionless white forms. Had they broken their necks? No blood spilled on the ground, but it looked like total carnage.
    Carnage she’d caused by taking a Kodak moment.
    Omigod. She’d killed Bran’s goats. On her second day on the job. Not only would he fire her for sure, but how could she live with the ugly truth that she’d accidentally led two innocent animals to their deaths?
    Maybe if she gave them CPR ... She leaned over the closest one and poked it in the ribs. No movement.
    That’s because they’re dead. Don’t bother putting your mouth on goat lips. Nothing’s gonna happen but getting a firsthand taste of dead goat breath.
    So what should she do?
    Hide the evidence. Throw the bodies in the shed and shut the door.
    No! That would be wrong.
    You need this job. Maybe Bran will think the goats died of natural causes.
    Huh-uh. Bran knew everything about his livestock.
    Shove them in the shed for now. Take them out later, pitch them in the back of the truck, and cover them with a tarp. Before you take off for the day, leave the pen gate open. Then tomorrow morning Bran will think his goats ran away.
    Due to her total panic, that was the option Harper chose, even when she was aware it was the worst option.
    She dragged the goats by the back legs and laid them in the metal shed. She shut the shed door and latched it. When she heard the rumble of Bran’s rig in the drive, she sprinted out of the pen and headed straight for the truck.
    Inside the cab, she rested her forehead on the steering wheel, attempting to level her breathing, trying to act normal. Trying not to act like she’d just entombed Bran’s goat family.
    When Bran rapped on the window, she screamed.
    Naturally Bran jumped back. His eyes narrowed on her and he opened