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warmth seemed to invite herin. She stood in the entry, gazing at a massive stone fireplace, complete with a heavy beamed mantel and a wide accommodating hearth. The only thing missing from this picture was the moose head above the fireplace. Instinct told her Trey wouldn’t approve or indulge in the hunting of innocent animals, thank goodness.
    A slightly worn, completely comfortable-looking leather sofa graced the wall facing the fireplace, and antique pieces from days gone by surrounded the room. Maddie couldn’t help feel like an invader, intruding on Trey’s privacy, the total masculine feel of the room alluding to Trey’s lone-wolf demeanor. It was apparent that a woman had no place here. There were no lace curtains or hand-sewn pillows, nothing feminine at all, yet the house had a welcoming, solid, lived-in feel. A house built for and made for a man.
    Maddie was certain Trey didn’t want her here.
    And she certainly didn’t want to be here.
    But she’d had no other option. She had responsibilities, clients who depended on her to keep their animals healthy. There was no one else in Hope Wells to look after the animals of the twenty-odd ranches in the county. And just the other day, she’d had to neuter Randolph Curry’s rambunctious Irish setter, before the neighbors shot the dang dog for lewd acts of conduct on the main streets in town. Then there was young Bessie Mallery’s cat Lucky, who’d surprised everyone with a litter of seven. Maddie had had to untangle that feline’s umbilical cord before three of the kittens strangled themselves, getting all twisted up in the cord. Fortunately Lucky’s name had held true, and she hadn’t lost any of her offspring, much to Bessie’s delight.
    With a nod, Maddie concluded if she were to keepher practice going, she would have to accept Trey’s hospitality. But she’d made a solemn vow to stick to her business and stay out of his way, until the time came when she could rebuild her own office in town.
    â€œAll settled in,” Trey said, coming to stand before her. “I put everything inside your room. Down the hall, third door on the left.”
    â€œThank you,” Maddie offered. When she’d pulled up just minutes ago with her oddball assortment of clothes, medical books, some veterinary equipment—the smaller tools of her trade she’d been able to salvage—Trey had been waiting on his front porch. He wouldn’t allow her to lift a thing from the bed of her truck. He’d just reached in and grabbed everything, loading up his arms and telling her to make herself comfortable inside the house. “The house is nice, looks like it’s been lived in some. I’ll bet there’s a batch of stories hidden in these old walls.”
    Maddie bit her lip and glanced away. She’d never been one to babble, but then she’d never felt this darn awkward before.
    Trey grinned. “This house goes way back. It was one of the first ones built in Hope Wells back in the day when there was free range. I know a few stories, but they aren’t fit for telling in polite company.”
    Maddie sighed, wondering what wonderfully sinful things had happened at 2 Hope years ago. “I’d love to hear them sometime.”
    Trey looked her over, and began shaking his head. With a dubious expression plastered on his face, he flat out refused. “No way, Maddie. You don’t want to hear any of those stories.”
    Maddie fumed silently. She’d never shed her wholesome, good-girl image. The one time she’d tried transforming into a sexy siren, she’d failed miserably. Trey hadn’t paid her any notice at all. She was over it, and him, but she wished that he would treat her the way he treated other women. She wasn’t a child who needed protecting from vile stories. She wasn’t a frail dove that needed rescuing. She was a strong woman who knew when to give up on