Feels Like Home

DO YOU NEED A COWBOY FIX?

New York Times bestselling author Vicki Lewis Thompson returns to Mills & Boon^® Blaze^® in 2013 with more

Sons of Chance

Chance isn’t just the last name of these rugged Wyoming cowboys—it’s their motto, too!

Saddle up with:

Long Road Home

Lead Me Home

Feels Like Home

Take a chance … on a Chance!

Dear Reader,

This is a sappy, sentimental love letter to all of you who’ve welcomed me back to the Mills & Boon^® Blaze^® line and taken the Sons of Chance miniseries into your homes and your hearts. Thank you for all the funny and appreciative emails and for your continued support of my books, whether you’re reading them in paperback or on your ereader. You rock!

Because you’ve embraced the SONS OF CHANCE with such enthusiasm, I’m going to keep writing books about them! So get ready for another summer of gorgeous cowboys coming at you in 2013. I have you and my wonderful editor, Brenda Chin, to thank for it, and I’m thrilled! Life at the Last Chance Ranch has become part of me, and I didn’t want to say goodbye to all those folks I’ve come to love.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. We’re still at the beginning of 2013, and you’re holding book nine in your hands. While I hope you’ve read all the others, you might have missed some. I realize that and I try really hard to make each book stand alone. So whether you’re a frequent visitor to the Last Chance Ranch or a newcomer, I have a feeling that Rafe and Meg, best man and maid of honor at a traditional ranch wedding, will touch your heart and make you smile.

Be sure and pay attention to the epilogue, though, because it’ll give you a hint about book ten!

Continuing to be yours,

Vicki Lewis Thompson

About the Author

New York Times bestselling author VICKI LEWIS THOMPSON’s love affair with cowboys started with the Lone Ranger, continued through Maverick and took a turn south of the border with Zorro. She views cowboys as the Western version of knights in shining armor—rugged men who value honor, honesty and hard work. Fortunately for her, she lives in the Arizona desert, where broad-shouldered, lean-hipped cowboys abound. Blessed with such an abundance of inspiration, she only hopes that she can do them justice. Visit her website at www.vickilewisthompson.com.

Feels Like Home
Vicki Lewis Thompson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

With thanks to Tony Horvath for creating such

fabulous covers for the Sons of Chance.

I’m blessed!

Prologue

August 23, 1980 from the diary of Eleanor Chance

I THINK MOST FOLKS IN Shoshone, Wyoming, would say that I’m a nonviolent sort. In fact, ask anyone in the entire Jackson Hole area who knows me, and they’ll tell you I’m a calm woman not prone to outbursts of rage.

So these same people might be shocked to learn that I could, given the opportunity, twist Diana Chance’s head right off her scrawny neck. I’ve never been so fired up in my entire life, which includes the time that my dear husband, Archie, forgot my birthday AND our anniversary in the space of a month.

If I had Diana in my clutches, nothing would save her except a promise to stay and be a devoted mother to my sweet little grandson, Jack, and a wife to my son, Jonathan. But the irresponsible piece of baggage has LEFT. She’s abandoned both my son and my grandson, and for that I will never forgive her.

I hated the fighting between Jonathan and Diana, but I hate this more. No child should have to grow up knowing that his mother didn’t love him enough to stick around. I will do all in my power to make it up to this poor little boy, but he’s not even two. How can he be expected to understand?

All he knows is that his mother is gone. Her note tells us not to try and find her. Believe me, I’ve considered it. I have a little money put away, and I could hire a P.I. to track her down, but then what? Other than twisting her head from her neck, what do I want with her?

I want what I can’t have, which is for her to be a good mother to my grandson and a good wife to my son. It’s not possible. Archie tells me to let it go, that dwelling on it is useless and will make me even more miserable. I suppose he’s right, but what I wouldn’t give for two minutes with that sorry excuse for a mother.

1

Present day Last Chance Ranch

SO THIS IS THE HOME MY MOTHER left more than thirty years ago.

With a sense of foreboding, Rafe Locke turned into the circular gravel drive that fronted a two-story log ranch house, climbed out of his rented Lexus and pocketed the keys. He hoped the car’s shocks were okay.

The luxury sedan might not have been the best choice for driving over the rutted dirt road leading to the main house, but trucks were his twin brother Wyatt’s style, not his. Wyatt operated a wilderness trekking company and loved long, arduous hikes. Rafe gave financial advice to high-profile clients and worked out at a gym.

Although Wyatt had offered to meet his plane at the Jackson airport, the guy was a busy bridegroom with things to do. And things on his mind, like whether their mother, Diana, would risk returning to face her oldest son, Jack, in order to attend Wyatt’s wedding.

Whether Diana showed up or not, Rafe wanted to be in charge of his own transportation during the week of wedding festivities. Once their dad, Harlan, arrived, he’d also appreciate having the Lexus at his disposal. He didn’t like driving trucks, either.

As Rafe surveyed the house with its wide porches and country ambiance, he had no trouble imagining his mother’s objections to the lifestyle. The structure represented home and hearth, not the sleek sophistication Diana craved.

She would sneer at the rockers lining the porch and the horseshoe knocker on the massive front door. She’d think the multicolored flower beds on either side of the porch steps lacked design and restraint. She’d hate the wrought-iron boot scraper anchored in cement beside the steps.

The house had quite a bit of square footage, though, and Wyatt had said the acreage was considerable, too. Rafe hoped the Chance family had a good financial advisor. Considering property values in a resort area like Jackson Hole, they were likely sitting on several million in assets.

Wyatt seemed oblivious to that, which was so like him. Instead he’d rattled on about the family history, and how Archie Chance and his bride, Nelsie, had built the center section themselves during the Great Depression. Later two wings had been added at an angle that made them look like arms reaching out to welcome visitors.

Or ensnare them. His mother had said she’d felt trapped at the Last Chance. Escaping to San Francisco and marrying financier Harlan Locke had been her solution. Except her marriage to Harlan had come apart eighteen months ago, and Rafe knew she wouldn’t look forward to socializing with her ex, especially when they’d be prominently showcased as the mother and father of the groom.

But that issue paled in comparison to her confronting Jack, the son she hadn’t contacted since she’d left, the son who Wyatt, Rafe and Harlan hadn’t found out about until after the divorce. Wyatt had chosen to visit the ranch and meet his half brother. He’d discovered that Jonathan Chance, Jack’s father and Diana’s first husband, had died, but he’d left two more sons, Nick and Gabe, and a widow, Sarah.

Wyatt had fallen in love with Jackson Hole, the Chance family and Olivia Sedgewick. Rafe wished to hell Wyatt had agreed to marry Olivia somewhere else, anywhere else. But she was local and Wyatt wanted the wedding to take place at the ranch, which he considered his new home base.

Rafe suspected Wyatt also had an agenda that included Diana finally making peace with Jack. Wyatt had bonded with his half brother and wanted the old wounds healed. Knowing softhearted Wyatt, he had dreams of the Lockes and the Chances becoming one big happy family.

Although Rafe was also Jack’s half brother, he had no such dreams. He’d do his job as best man because he loved his twin, but Wyatt was the outlier in the Locke family. Diana, Harlan and Rafe were dyed-in-the-wool San Franciscans used to their sushi bars and lattes. Whooping it up in cowboy country wouldn’t be their idea of a good time.

Thinking of urban conveniences reminded Rafe that he hadn’t checked his cell phone reception since turning off the main highway. Monday was a busy trading day and he’d been AWOL for a good part of it. Time to play catch up before he announced his presence to anyone inside.

After tucking his Wayfarer sunglasses in his shirt pocket, he reached inside the car, pulled his iPhone from the holder on the dash and tested the internet connection. Amazingly, it worked.

Absorbed in checking end-of-trading stock prices, he lost track of his surroundings until the sound of rapid hoofbeats made him whirl in alarm. A horse and rider bore down on him. Swearing, he dove into the car to avoid having himself and his iPhone smashed to bits.

Instead of stampeding past, the rider pulled up right next to the car. The horse snorted loudly and stretched its nose toward the Lexus. The beast could be breathing fire and brimstone for all Rafe knew.

“Did I scare you?” The voice was decidedly female. “Sorry about that.”

Rafe tossed his phone on the seat and slid carefully out, giving the brown-and-white horse a wide berth. “I wasn’t scared. I was startled.” He glared up at the rider, whose red hair curled out from under the brim of a brown cowboy hat. “Anybody who sees a horse running straight at him would—”

“Cantering. Spilled Milk and I were just cantering toward you.”

“Looked damned fast to me.”

“I was trying to catch you before you went inside. I saw the car and realized you must be Rafe, and I wanted to introduce myself.” She swung down from the saddle, dropped the reins to the ground and held out her hand. “I’m Meg Seymour, Olivia’s maid of honor. We’ll be in the wedding together on Saturday.”

So this was Meg, and she wasn’t at all what he’d expected, but she had a warm, firm handshake. Now that she was on the ground, he estimated her height at around five-eight. The boots added another couple of inches, and the hat a couple more, which made her seem almost as tall as he was.

“I thought you were from Pittsburgh,” he said. Wyatt had told him that, and Rafe had held out the vain hope that Meg would be a kindred spirit who wasn’t into the jeans and boots routine. Instead, here she was decked out like a certified cowgirl.

“I am from Pittsburgh.”

“Have you spent a lot of time out here?” Rafe eyed the horse, which kept stretching its neck toward him as if wanting to take a bite. Rafe edged back.

“Nope. My first time. Hey, don’t worry about Spilled Milk. She’s just curious. You can rub her nose. She likes that.”

“Uh, no thanks.” Although he kept his attention on the horse, he managed to get a quick glimpse of Meg’s green eyes and the light dusting of freckles across her nose. She was cute enough, but thanks to her he was too damned close to an animal who wanted to eat him. Meg had dropped the reins as if abandoning all responsibility.

She shrugged. “Okay. I guess you’re not much into horses.”

“Not really. Shouldn’t you be holding on to her?”

“She’s trained to stand still when I drop the reins.”

That was all well and good, but from where the horse stood, she could easily reach him with those big teeth. “Is she trained not to bite?”

“Absolutely, but if she’s making you nervous, I can—”

“I’m not nervous, but I don’t want to get bit, either.” Great. Now he looked like a wuss.

“Let me back her up some.” Turning to the horse, she picked up the reins. “Back, girl. That’s it. A little more. Good.”

Rafe breathed easier, which allowed him to pick up a cinnamon scent that he’d guess belonged to Meg and not the horse. When she’d turned to move the animal back, he also couldn’t help noticing the great fit of her jeans. He wasn’t into the country look, but snug jeans showed off a woman’s ass to good advantage, and hers was worth admiring.

Keeping herself between Rafe and the curious horse, she faced him again. “Better?”

“It’s just that I live in the city.” That wasn’t much of an excuse. She lived in the city and she was totally at ease with this animal. “Where did you learn so much about horses?”

“I’m no expert, but I ride English back home. I had to adjust to a Western saddle when I arrived, but I’ve about accomplished that, so tomorrow I can start learning how to rope.”

“You want to learn to rope this week?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s something I’ve never tried and being on the ranch gives me a golden opportunity. I really love it here.” She smiled.

And Rafe’s breath caught. Earlier he’d thought she was cute with her freckles, her shamrock-green eyes, and her red curls peeking from under her hat, but that smile of hers turned cute into beautiful. Her beauty was all the more impressive because he couldn’t see a trace of makeup.

She studied him for a moment. “You know, Wyatt said you didn’t look like him, and you sure don’t.”

“We’re fraternal twins, not identical.”

“He said that, but still, I expected some similarities. Instead of being on the fair side like Wyatt, you’re a GQ version of Jack Chance. Same dark hair, same dark eyes. Dress you up in Jack’s trademark black shirt, jeans and boots, and you could pass for him.”

“I doubt it. There’s not an ounce of cowboy in me.”

She gave him another once-over. “Then you’ll have to fake it for the wedding.”

“I’ll follow the dress code when I have to, but not until then.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You didn’t bring jeans and boots?”

“Don’t own any.”

“Oh, that’s no problem. I’m sure you’d fit into Wyatt’s clothes, or Jack’s for that matter.”

The idea of wearing jeans and boots was bad enough, but wearing borrowed jeans and boots was worse. “Thanks, but I really don’t need them until the wedding and I’ll pick up the required outfit for the ceremony later in the week.”

Her look of confusion was almost funny. “But … how can you try riding if you don’t have any jeans and boots?”

“I can’t, which is fine with me. Wyatt promised me I wouldn’t have to get on a horse, and I’m holding him to it.”

She stared at him, apparently at a loss for words.

“The thing is, Wyatt and I not only look different, but we have totally different personalities. He’s the rugged outdoor type, and I’m the urban professional type. I’m crazy about the guy and wish him well in whatever he does, but we have almost nothing in common.”

“Yes, but you’re not in San Francisco now. You’re here. Why wouldn’t you want to take advantage of what the Last Chance has to offer?”

A tiny voice in the back of his head murmured because I don’t want to make a fool of myself. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge that voice to himself, let alone to the maid of honor. “Because riding and roping and mucking out stalls, or anything that’s involved with ranching, doesn’t interest me.”

“Then what will you do all day?”

“I have my iPad and my iPhone. When Wyatt doesn’t need me for wedding stuff, I’ll work remote.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “He said you’re involved in the financial world somehow.”

Trust Wyatt to be vague on that point. His twin had never quite grasped what Rafe did for a living. “I’m a financial advisor.”

“And I’m sure you’re good at it, too.”

“I hope so. I have clients who depend on me being good at it.” He even managed some investments for Wyatt, who gave him carte blanche to do whatever he thought was right.

Her green gaze became serious. “Please take this next comment in the spirit of friendly advice.”

“Okay.”

“The Last Chance is an amazing place. In the few days I’ve been here, I’ve heard stories of lives being changed by contact with this ranch and the people on it. I’d hate for anyone to waste that privilege.”

“Meaning me.”

“Yes.”

He thought her earnest advice was sweet, even if it was misguided. “The thing is, I don’t want my life to change.”

“Well, then.” She gave him a look filled with pity. “I guess it’s a good thing you brought your iPad and iPhone.” She mounted up. For a moment she hesitated, clearly still thinking about his response and whether to say anything more. Then her expression closed down. “See you at dinner.”

“Sure. Nice meeting you.”

“Same here.” With a wave, she turned Spilled Milk around and urged the horse toward a large, hip-roofed barn about two hundred yards to the right of the house.

Rafe didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that Meg was disappointed in his attitude. But damn it, he hadn’t come here to attend cowboy school. Or to change his life.

Most guys would give their eyeteeth to live the way he did. He made decent money, rented an apartment with a view of the bay and dated sexy women. He was only twenty-nine, and although his twin had decided to tie the knot, he felt no similar urge.

After watching his parents’ marriage dissolve and the messy financial entanglements of that dissolution, he’d vowed to be very sure before he made a commitment. If he should find the perfect woman in the far distant future, he’d want her to be a successful businesswoman in her own right, someone who was as happy with a San Francisco lifestyle as he was. And there would definitely be a prenup.

In any case, he was in no hurry to get to that stage. He liked his present status just fine, and if Miss Meg Seymour wanted to dive into ranch activities and see about changing her life, she was welcome to it. But she could leave him out of that program, thank you very much.

2

MEG FROWNED AT HER REFLECTION in the mirror. She’d tried on every pair of earrings she’d brought to Wyoming, plus the long and dramatic ones in turquoise and silver that she’d bought during a shopping trip in Jackson with Olivia. She’d also changed clothes three times.

This was not like her, and she was angry with herself because she knew the cause of it all. She wanted to look stunning for Rafe Locke when she came down to dinner. What a ridiculous goal that was.

One glance had told her that he dated skinny women in designer dresses and up-to-the-minute hairstyles who had exotic jobs in the art district. That was so not her.

She’d never been skinny or willing to shell out for designer clothes or an expensive salon cut. She was a brainy engineer who worked for the City of Pittsburgh designing traffic-control systems in areas of urban growth. She had her hair cut at the same Pittsburgh salon where her BFF Olivia had worked until a year ago, when she’d moved to Wyoming.

But Rafe had snagged her attention. He claimed not to be interested in ranch life, but she sensed he was more wary than uninterested and possibly afraid of looking foolish doing something he wasn’t good at. His apparent reluctance to step out of his comfort zone posed an irresistible challenge to her.

She knew from personal experience that breaking through self-imposed boundaries created a life full of excitement. Rafe’s attitude implied that the Last Chance would be a blip on his ultrasophisticated radar, a place to tolerate until he could satisfy his duties as best man and return to the rarified, and possibly stifling, air of his San Francisco existence. Shaking him out of that self-satisfied rut would be good for him and tons of fun for her.

His well-toned body tempted her, too. Those broad shoulders and narrow hips would look great in cowboy gear. She could picture his dark eyes shadowed by a tilted Stetson. Oh, yeah.

At least once during their meeting this afternoon she’d caught a flash of interest in his expression. Building on his initial interest might be a way to lure him into tasting cowboy life. He really did look like a younger version of Jack Chance, and almost every woman in Shoshone agreed that Jack was sexier than hell. He was also taken.

Rafe was not, and he had the makings of a hero. After all, he was Wyatt’s twin and Jack’s half brother, so a cowboy’s soul could be hiding under that urban exterior and just waiting to be turned loose. Meg figured she had first crack at him, at least for the week of the wedding. Wasn’t that the prerogative of the maid of honor when the best man was single? If it wasn’t in the wedding party rules, it should be.

This dithering had made her late, though. She’d heard Olivia and Wyatt arrive at least twenty minutes ago and the sound of laughter and the clink of glasses from downstairs told her that drinks were being served in the living room. In late August the weather was nippy enough for a fire in the evenings and she could smell cedar smoke. All the Chance family would gather tonight because welcoming Wyatt’s twin, who was also Jack’s half brother, was a big deal.

Rafe would be down there trying to keep everyone in the family straight in his mind. Meg felt a little sorry for him having to deal with it after a day of traveling. And he didn’t fit into this ranch crowd at all, which wouldn’t help.

Meg felt totally comfortable here and had a good memory for names and faces. Even so, she always mentally reviewed the players before jumping into a large gathering. Jack, the oldest Chance son, was married to Josie, who owned the local tavern Spirits and Spurs. Their baby son was named Archie after his great-grandfather.

Next oldest was Nick, a large-animal vet who’d married Dominique, a talented photographer. They were plowing through the paperwork to adopt Lester, a thirteen-year-old boy in foster care who’d been part of a work program for disadvantaged youth held at the ranch for the first time this summer. Nick and Dominique, along with everyone at the ranch, had fallen in love with Lester and had decided they’d be more than happy to start their family with him.

The youngest son, Gabe, was married to Morgan, a redhead. Meg and Morgan had bonded over the joys and problems of having red hair. Morgan and Gabe’s little toddler, Sarah Bianca, had inherited the red hair, so Meg felt right at home with those two.

The sixtysomething ranch foreman, Emmett Sterling, would probably be at the gathering because he’d worked at the ranch for years and was considered part of the family. He actually might become part of the family if he and Pam Mulholland, who ran a nearby bed-and-breakfast, ever got married. Pam was Nick Chance’s aunt, and she’d be there, too.

Sarah Chance, the matriarch of the group, had finally found a new love after the untimely death of her husband several years ago. Peter Beckett, her fiancé, would be in attendance. A philanthropist, he’d funded the ranch’s summer program for young teens.

It was a lot to take in and, unlike Wyatt, Rafe didn’t seem eager to embrace the Chance family. That would throw extra tension into a situation already filled with drama.

Meg liked and admired the Chance family, but her personal obligation was to Olivia and Olivia’s sweetheart, Wyatt. By extension, Meg felt some loyalty to Rafe, and he’d have a much easier time of it if he’d get that burr out from under his saddle, as they said out here in the West.

“Meg?” Olivia’s voice floated down the hall. “I’ve been sent up to check on you.”

“I’m in here.” Meg shook her head and made the silver-and-turquoise earrings dance. They went well with the black dress she’d settled on, the simple little black dress that every woman was supposed to have hanging in her closet. Knowing her limitations in the fashion department, Meg had clung to that advice.

Olivia, looking radiant in a dark green dress, appeared in the doorway of what was still referred to as “Roni’s room.” The Chances had taken Roni in when she was a runaway teen. Now she worked as a mechanic on the NASCAR circuit and had married a guy on her racing team.

The decor hadn’t been updated since the days when Roni had been obsessed with NASCAR. But it was the only upstairs bedroom with an attached bath, so it was usually assigned to any single female guest. Meg qualified and was grateful for the privacy.

“Oh, Meg, those earrings are spectacular with that dress.” Olivia beamed at her.

“And you look terrific, as always.” Meg glanced lovingly at her friend. Olivia constantly experimented with her hair, and recently she’d colored it in various shades of red and blonde. For tonight’s event she’d created an arrangement of upswept curls and dangling ringlets that inspired Meg’s awe.

“Thank you.” Olivia smiled. “Being crazy in love helps.”

“I don’t have that going for me, unfortunately. I wish I’d asked you to come early and do my hair. It just sits there, a curly red blob.”

“Is that what’s keeping you?” Olivia crossed to the dressing table, picked up a tube of gel and squeezed some into her palm. “I can fix that in a jiffy.”

“The hair, the dress, the makeup, the jewelry. I’ve been a mass of writhing indecision.” Meg’s anxiety level dropped significantly as Olivia massaged hair gel into her misbehaving curls.

“Sounds serious.” Olivia finished with the gel and picked up a brush and a hair dryer. “You’re usually the calmest one of the bunch.”

“I think it’s having Rafe here.”

“He does change the dynamics.” She turned the dryer on low and began to work. “He’s a different kind of guy and he doesn’t quite fit in at the moment, but I’m counting on the fact he’s Wyatt’s twin. He’ll be fine. It’ll all work out.”

“I hope so. He seems sort of …” Meg hesitated to label him and risk offending his future sister-in-law.

“So you’ve met him?”

“I introduced myself this afternoon. He thinks I tried to run him down while I was on Spilled Milk.”

Olivia met Meg’s gaze in the mirror and laughed. “So did you?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Just wondering, because speaking for myself, I have the strongest urge to mess with him.”

Meg grinned, relieved she could be honest. “Livy, he’s ridiculously uptight. He told me he has ‘no interest’ in participating in the activities of the ranch. Won’t dress in jeans and boots until forced to. Plans to spend the week checking in to work on his iPad. How crazy is that?”

Olivia nodded. “That’s what he said just now, too. He seems to be holding the ranch and the Chance family at arm’s length. Poor Wyatt doesn’t know what to do.”

“Well, that sucks. For Wyatt and you, but for Rafe, too. He has no idea what he’s missing. It’s a crime to come to this beautiful ranch and stay cooped up with an iPad.”

“I agree.” Olivia used the brush and hair dryer to arrange Meg’s hair in soft, layered curls that framed her face. “There, how’s that?”

“Incredible.” Meg turned her head to view the results. The earrings swung rhythmically as she moved. “Now I feel gorgeous enough to take on Rafe Locke.”

Olivia smiled. “And do what with him?”

“You know, I think, deep down, he might want to loosen up, but he’s afraid to. He needs some help.”

“Well, if anyone can help him overcome those fears, it’s you.” Olivia stood back. “Go get him, girl.”

RAFE WAS HOLDING UP, but just barely. The shock of seeing his doppelganger—Jack Chance—walk into the room had largely worn off, but keeping the names and faces of the Chance clan sorted out had taken its toll. Fortunately no one had asked him the million-dollar question—whether Diana was coming to the wedding.

Even if they had, he wouldn’t have been able to give them an answer. He realized his mother was taking rudeness to a new level by waiting this long to reply, but surely a family rift that had lasted thirty-two years gave her some dispensation from the Emily Post crowd. He didn’t condone her behavior, either now or thirty-two years ago, but he didn’t want to see her humiliated, either.

He was trying to figure out a way to ditch the whole dinner plan and head upstairs to bed when Meg walked down the curved staircase looking like a queen at her coronation. He stared, then caught himself and glanced away.

But the image stayed with him. She’d abandoned the cowgirl look for a slinky black dress that showed off cleavage he hadn’t imagined existed when she’d worn a T-shirt. Her curly red hair now fell in soft waves around her face, and dangling earrings caught the light as she moved.

Dressed like this, she could walk into any nightclub in San Francisco and turn heads. She was turning them here, even though every man in the place except Rafe was spoken for. After an hour in the company of these guys, Rafe knew they all adored their wives, or fiancée in Wyatt’s case. But a man would have to be dead not to notice Meg tonight.

The only male who dared say something was thirteen-year-old Lester, a foster kid who would eventually be a part of the Chance family when Nick and Dominique formally adopted him. Lester gazed up at Meg with reverence in his eyes. “Wow. You clean up real good.”

That brought a laugh from everyone, including Meg. “Thanks, Lester.” She touched the lapel of the boy’s new Western shirt. “You’re pretty stylin’ yourself.”

“This is new.” Lester stuck out his skinny chest to show off his shirt. “Boots are new, too. Ropers.”

“Very nice. I’ll bet you and Nick went shopping today.”

Rafe covertly watched the interchange and wished he’d had the presence of mind to compliment her instead of allowing Lester to take the lead. The boy was small for his age, but apparently he had a gift for working with horses. Of the eight boys who’d spent the summer months at the ranch, Lester had been the standout according to Sarah. Nick and Dominique couldn’t stop talking about how much they enjoyed having him as part of their family.