The man who stepped from inside the truck was definitely not Doc. Tall, with shoulders stretching the faded fabric of his denim shirt and shiny black hair that glistened in the sunlight, he would have towered over Doc’s stocky figure. As he started toward the barn, she couldn’t see his face, but the easy swagger to his walk, the way he rolled his booted feet from heel to toe, spoke to her of things she thought she had forgotten. Had worked very hard to forget. Feelings she’d buried ten years ago. Uncomfortable, she dropped her gaze to her daughter who had come to stand next to Gypsy.

“Is he Doc’s helper, you think?” Lizzie scrunched her nose. “I don’t think I know him.”

Sudden awareness clutched Allison’s heart, giving it an extra beat, as if to prove the man walking toward her was still easy on the eyes but hard on the heart. He’d certainly been hard on hers.

It would stand to reason Doc might call on him to give a hand.

But why does it have to be my barn that needs visiting this morning?

Her heart thumped hard in her chest as Shane McBride came closer, stopped short, and tilted his head back to get a better look at her. For a second, surprise lit his eyes to the color of the sky, then, sticking his hands into his denim pockets, he shook his head. A slow grin touched his mouth. The mouth she remembered so well.

“Allison,” he said in his slow, sexy way.