Rancher's Covert Christmas. Beth Cornelison

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      “Dad?” he called down the hall toward his father’s office, “Ms. Palmer’s here if you wanna come meet her.”

      From the next door down, his father replied, “On a business call. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

      Zane traipsed through the family home to the mudroom where he snagged his winter coat from the hook by the back door. Shoving his arms in his fleece-lined jacket, he hurried out into the frigid December air, arriving at the main drive in front of his family home just as the sporty, dark blue Toyota 86 pulled up to the house. While the family’s two blue heelers wiggled and wagged their tails in excitement, Josh opened the driver’s side door and introduced himself as he offered their guest a hand to help her climb out.

      Zane stopped in his tracks to stare as a woman with long, curling, dark brown hair and high cheekbones stepped out, flashing Josh an appreciative smile. He wasn’t sure what he’d imagined the freelance travel writer would look like, but this stunning beauty wouldn’t have been it. When her gaze met his and locked, his pulse jolted as if he’d been hit by the cattle prod.

      The bright smile she’d given Josh faltered briefly as she gazed at Zane, then returned to full wattage as she stepped forward, shucking her gloves to extend a bare hand. “You must be Zane. Erin Palmer. Nice to meet you.”

      Recalled to the moment and his manners, Zane returned a welcoming grin and gripped her hand. Her handshake was firm, her hand warm, her skin silky-soft. Zane became self-conscious of how work-roughened his own palm must be, but she seemed unfazed by his callused hand.

      “Welcome, Ms. Palmer.”

      One delicate eyebrow lifted, and she tilted her head. “Ms. Palmer? What happened to Erin? I thought after our phone conversation that we were on a first-name basis. I certainly would prefer to be less formal...Zane.”

      The way she said his name, as an addendum, her husky voice heavy with innuendo, her rosy lips twitching with amusement, caught him off guard. And shot a spike of lust through his blood. Zane arched one eyebrow, matching her gesture, and nodded once in agreement. “Erin, then. How was your drive?”

      “Blessedly traffic-free, although I did run across a good bit of ice on the road.” She had yet to release his hand, and he found himself drawn to her eyes. Eyes the deep green of—

      A loud clatter and shout drew her attention across the ranch yard. Erin’s hand dropped from his, her gaze seeking the source of the disturbance.

      “Hey, can I get a hand here?” Piper’s husband, Brady Summers, shouted. He was carrying a tall stepladder and stood next to the twenty-five-foot blue spruce tree that grew next to the stable. A pile of Christmas lights lay on the ground at his feet.

      Even as he tucked his hand in his pocket, Zane could still feel the satin warmth of her fingers, like lingering impressions on his memory-foam mattress. He determinedly steered his brain away from thoughts of Erin and his bed. Clearing his throat, he turned to his brother. “Josh? Would you—?” Zane hitched his head toward Brady and the ladder. “I need to show Erin where she’ll be staying, help her with her luggage.”

      His brother, who already had Erin’s suitcases out of the sporty Toyota, said, “I can—” Josh bit off his words as he met his twin brother’s gaze and the silent message relayed in Zane’s expression. “I can...help Brady with the Christmas tree lights.”

      Josh flashed his brother a not-so-secret grin and play-punched him in the shoulder as he headed across the ranch driveway toward the massive spruce, the two dogs at his heels.

      “All right, then.” Zane moved to the bags and lifted one in each hand, while Erin slid an additional duffel over her shoulder. “If you’ll follow me...”

      Traces of slush and ice left from a light snow earlier in the week crunched under Zane’s boots as he escorted Erin across the ranch yard toward the bunkhouse-turned-guest-quarters. “You’ll have the run of the guesthouse. Once the adventure biz gets up and running again, this is where the clients will sleep during the on-site portion of the tours.”

      “Uh-huh,” she hummed distractedly, watching Brady position the large ladder with Josh’s help. She strayed from the path Zane was leading to get a closer look at the spruce. Setting the suitcases on a dry spot of ground, he followed her over to the tree that the family decorated each year with a copious number of lights and large red glass balls. The glass decorations were already hung on the tree.

      “Um...” Erin said as she approached the tree, putting her glove back on. “Can I make a suggestion?”

      Brady turned to face their guest, taking a moment to blow warmth into his hands. “Uh, sure.”

      Zane jogged a few steps to catch up to Erin and made the introduction to his new brother-in-law. After niceties were exchanged, Erin waved a gloved hand toward the spruce. “It’s easier to put lights on a tree if you do them before the other decorations.”

      “Told you!” another male voice said, and Zane angled his head to see their ranch hand coming out of the stable with an extension cord looped over his arm. Zane introduced Erin to the hand, Dave Giblan, and Dave gave her a smile and a nod of greeting, adding, “We went through this last year, too. But Mr. The-Order-Doesn’t-Make-A-Difference didn’t remember the hassle we had with the lights last time.”

      “I don’t mean to butt in. I’ve just learned from experience,” Erin said and grinned brightly at Dave.

      He was not jealous of the spark of attraction he saw in her eyes as she replied to the ranch hand, Zane told himself, despite the niggle of irritation in his gut.

      Brady grunted and cast Dave a hooded side glance. “Whatever.”

      As Brady began plucking the glass decorations off the tree, the ranch foreman joined the crowd, as well. Roy Summers, Brady’s father and long-time ranch employee, frowned at the group. “Is this like a lightbulb riddle? How many ranchers does it take to decorate a Christmas tree?” He cast a startled glance at Erin. “Oh, hello, young lady. You must be the writer.”

      More introductions were made, and Roy put a hand on Brady’s shoulder. “Come on, son. Someone’s got to do the real business of the ranch. Give me a hand tending the abscessed hoof on that calf I brought in earlier.”

      “Be there in a minute,” Brady said, and Roy firmed his mouth in displeasure.

      “I’d say a hurting calf takes priority over some baubles on a tree, son.” He nudged Brady more insistently. “Let’s go.”

      “Fine,” Brady replied grudgingly, and he handed off the glass balls he’d gathered to Dave. “Okay, Santa Claus. I’m out. You have the conn.”

      Dave responded with a snort and an eye-roll that made Erin chuckle. He repositioned the ladder, which rattled and creaked as he settled it closer to the tree.

      “I can’t wait to see it all decorated and the lights glowing.” She turned to Zane, her face lit with enthusiasm, her cheeks and nose pink from the cold. “I love Christmas. Even more than spring. And my birthday’s in spring, so that’s saying something, because I really love celebrating my birthday.”

      His chest tightened as he gazed at her. Her eyes reflected a childlike glee that reminded him of Christmases past, rising before the sun with his brother and sister, filled with exuberance СКАЧАТЬ