Montana Sheriff

But then, she also felt incredibly wired. Cole had always managed to do that to her, to get everything inside of her moving at top speed with just a look or a touch.

Especially a touch, she remembered, her mind drifting.

She wasn’t here for a reunion, Ronnie reminded herself sternly. She was here to help her father run the ranch while he—and Wayne—recovered. And she was here for Wayne.

To see her older brother before—

No, there was not going to be a “before,” she upbraided herself. Wayne would be fine. Just fine.

Positive thoughts, she would only have positive thoughts, Ronnie silently ordered herself. She wasn’t one of those people who believed in transmitting energy or “vibes” or any of that kind of far-out nonsense, but on the other hand, keeping a good thought couldn’t exactly hurt, right?

At this point, she wasn’t about to rule out trying anything short of waving a chicken over Wayne’s head and chanting some kind of strange, unfathomable incantation.

Wayne was going to be fine, he was going to be fine, she silently insisted again. No reason to think otherwise.

Glancing over her shoulder, Ronnie looked in the direction of the house. She’d left Christopher to entertain her father—the boy had actually succeeded in making her father smile a couple of times since they got there.

She’d also left Juanita, the housekeeper who had been with the family for as long as she could remember, watching over her father and her son. That freed her up to go see her brother.

She had to brace herself, she thought, for what she might see. She’d never known a day when Wayne, six foot four, tanned with wide shoulders, a small waist and powerful arms, wasn’t the absolute picture of robust health and strength. Seeing him any other way would be a shock to her system.

But she couldn’t let on that it was because, despite the fact that he was still in a coma, she felt that on some level, he would be able to see her reaction. She didn’t want anything daunting his spirits and keep them from rallying.