The Rancher's Rules. Lucy Monroe

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      “Tell that to my dad.” She hadn’t meant to say that. She didn’t like to dwell on her relationship with her dad. He had never understood her, and she was not sure she would ever understand him.

      Grant squeezed her shoulder. “I did.”

      “Yeah, I know. Always my protector.”

      Grant brushed a finger down her face. It took every speck of self-control she had not to lean into his touch.

      “Always.” The warm promise in his voice soothed her.

      “So, I can stay?”

      Grant stepped back. “We’ll start looking for a new place for you tomorrow.”

      Zoe frowned. “What’s the rush? Can’t we wait until after the holidays?”

      It would be perfect. She and Grant could entertain their parents together, and she would not have to spend any time alone in the company of her father. With Grant around, even Zoe’s mom would not be able to finagle such a meeting.

      Besides, finding a place wasn’t going to be all that easy. Hadn’t he heard what she’d said about already looking? She hated facing it, but she’d have to get rid of the goat and the parrot. Someone might rent to her with a dog and two cats, but even that was pushing it.

      Grant shook his head. “This is Sunshine Springs, not Portland. Among the year-round residents, kindergarten teachers don’t cohabitate with men—not even their best friends.”

      “We wouldn’t be cohabitating. I’m just staying here until I can find another place.”

      He reached around her and started mixing two mugs of hot cocoa. “You and I know that, but the busybodies of Sunshine Springs don’t.”

      “But—”

      “No buts.” He handed her a cup of hot cocoa. “I know what we’ll do.”

      Zoe took a sip of sweet, steaming beverage and waited for Grant to tell her about his brainstorm.

      “Frank and Emma Patterson went across the mountains to Portland to visit family for the holidays. My ranch foreman is keeping an eye on the place. I’m sure they won’t mind if you stay there while you’re looking for a new home.”

      Zoe rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. Grant, most people wouldn’t let me stay at their home with all my pets. Why do you think it’s so hard for me to find a rental?”

      She also didn’t know how she felt about staying in her old home, now occupied by the Pattersons, a wealthy retired couple who rented the place from Grant.

      “I’ll call Frank in the morning,” he said, just as if she had not spoken.

      “If you are that intent on getting rid of me, go ahead and call.” She set her half-finished mug by the sink. “I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day.”

      Grant frowned. “I’m not trying to get rid of you. The Patterson place is a lot closer to town, and you won’t have to drive so far on icy roads to work.”

      School let out in a couple of days, and Grant knew it. “So, we don’t tell anyone I’m staying here. If they don’t know, their overstimulated imaginations won’t have any fodder. And with school letting out soon, how is anyone going to know?”

      Grant’s granite-like features twisted into a cynical smile and his blue eyes mocked her naïveté. “Mrs. Givens.”

      “You think she’ll tell?”

      His derisive laugh was answer enough.

      “Okay. Call the Pattersons.”

      Grant savored the quiet of the predawn darkness. He’d wanted to make some international business calls before waking Zoe. They needed time this morning to take care of her homeless situation. If she had let him rent her old home to her, none of this would have happened. But Zoe’s pride was only exceeded by her stubbornness.

      When he walked into the kitchen, not only was the coffeepot on and giving off a terrific aroma, but Zoe was making breakfast. She flipped a golden pancake off the griddle onto a plate. A pan of eggs warmed on the back of the stove. He knew better than to look for bacon.

      Zoe was a vegetarian. Ever since she was sixteen and had told him that every time she bit into a hamburger she saw the soft brown eyes of a cow. When she’d said it, he’d come close to giving up beef too.

      A vegetarian rancher. Right.

      Her dad had gone ballistic. Jensen had never even considered leaving the ranch to Zoe, and when he’d decided to retire early he’d sold the ranch to Grant to add to the Cortez holdings. Her dad had not believed that she would be able to raise cattle to butcher or sell. Grant did not doubt the older man had been right.

      Zoe did not belong on a working ranch and that was a fact.

      At least she still ate eggs. His stomach rumbled at the sight of the fluffy yellow pile of scrambled eggs on the plate.

      “Mornin’.”

      She turned around and smiled at him. “Mornin’. I made breakfast.”

      “I see. Are you saying that if I let you stay here I can figure on the services of a housekeeper?” He teased. “That might make me rethink calling Frank Patterson—especially since I gave my housekeeper time off from now until Christmas to get ready for her children’s visit.”

      “I cooked breakfast.” She pointed at the sink with the spatula and smiled. “I didn’t say anything about washing dishes.”

      She stretched across the counter to pour him a mug of coffee. Her nightshirt rode up creamy thighs and Grant’s gaze glued itself to the sight while his fingers itched to reach out and touch the soft skin. Would it be as smooth as he remembered? Would she shudder like she had that one fateful time he’d allowed himself to see her as a woman?

      He bit back a curse. He wasn’t about to give in to carnal urges where she was concerned again. Their friendship meant way too much to him. It meant more than any other relationship in his life, and he wasn’t about to put it at risk for something as fundamental as sex.

      “Don’t you have some sweats or something to wear with that thing?” He grimaced at the question, hoping she didn’t hear the tinge of desperation in his voice.

      Zoe stopped stirring the coffee and gave him a quizzical glance. “Why? I’m not cold. Does my nightgown bother you?”

      Nightgown? It looked more like a T-shirt to him. “Of course not. I just thought you might be cold.”

      She shrugged. “I’m not.”

      “Good.” What else could he say? That the sight of her sexy legs had sent his male hormones raging?

      She would run screaming from the kitchen. Or, worse, she would stay.

      He’d call Frank right after breakfast.

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