The Rancher's Unexpected Family. Helen Lacey

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      Great shoulders. Check!

      Great load of trouble ahead. Check!

      “How about we head inside for some iced tea?” she suggested.

      “I’d rather just go to my room,” the teenager said.

      “I have to finish getting the cabin ready,” Ash said and pointed to a small building about one hundred feet from the ranch house. “And we should probably get to know one another first.”

      The young girl’s expression narrowed instantly. “We’re staying in there? Are you kidding me? What a dump.”

      “Maisy!”

      Cole’s voice was sharply disapproving and his daughter recoiled for a second before shrugging her shoulders in a willful way that spoke volumes. Ash did her best not to take offense. She’d been a cop for over a decade and had fostered nearly twenty-five children during that time, so a thick and resilient skin was a necessity. But there was no doubt the man standing by the car was not as adept at handling teenage stubbornness and anger. Compassion for him quickly coursed through her blood, along with a deep-rooted and heartfelt ache for the girl who looked so solitary and mad at the world.

      “The cabin is clean and tidy,” Ash said and walked toward the porch. When she mounted the first step she turned on her heels. “Things aren’t always what they seem. Take me, for instance,” she said, shoulders back as she met Maisy’s glare head-on. “Five feet four and one hundred and twenty-five pounds wringing wet—some people might think I’m a pushover. Those people would be wrong. Come inside the house, you can take your bags up to the cabin later.”

      Ash turned and walked up to the house, opening the door and screen. She waited for her guests to follow and then stood back as they crossed the threshold. Cole ushered his daughter up the steps and Ash managed a tight smile as they moved through the doorway. She closed the screen and walked down the hallway, over the shiny polished floors and into the large kitchen at the rear of the house. The warmth of red cedar cupboards and dark granite countertops struck her as it always did. She’d had the kitchen renovated a year earlier and loved spending time in the big room, with its large scrubbed table and chairs and the pots hanging above the stove. Ash loved to cook and did so whenever she could shoo her mother out from behind the counter. Fifty-seven-year-old Nancy Olsen-McCune-Rodriguez was twice-married, twice-divorced and Ash’s right hand on the ranch. Along with Uncle Ted, her mother’s much older brother, who was essentially the ranch foreman and lived in one of the four cabins behind the main house. And of course, Jaye, her twelve-year-old son, whom she loved more than anything.

      She washed and dried her hands and ignored the fact her clothes were grease-stained and she probably looked like an oily rag. “So, iced tea?” she asked and looked at her two guests, who were hovering in the doorway.

      “Sure,” Cole said and stepped farther into the room. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

      Ash nodded. “My grandparents bought the ranch over fifty years ago. When they died they left it to my uncle and Mom and me,” she said and grabbed the jug of iced tea from the refrigerator, then filled up three glasses with ice and a sprig of mint. “We run a few head of cattle and some horses. And we have chickens, an adorable alpaca and a few goats.”

      “And two big dogs.”

      She met his gaze and smiled a little. “They look formidable, but they’re quite civilized.”

      “He hates dogs.”

      Maisy’s voice was muffled but decipherable and Ash raised a brow. “More of a cat person, are you?”

      He shrugged. “Not especially,” he replied and glanced toward his daughter. “And I don’t hate dogs. I just have...allergies,” he said and shrugged again.

      “He’s allergic to everything.” Maisy again, even more disagreeable than before.

      Ash’s eyes widened. “Everything?”

      She noticed his cheeks darken. “Not everything. Bees,” he explained. “And shellfish.”

      “Then I shall try not to poison you with my seafood paella,” Ash said and smiled. “I trust you have an EpiPen on standby?”

      “Always.”

      “My son has a nut allergy, so I’m well-rehearsed in emergency trips to the ER.”

      “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said and his mouth twitched in a half smile that sent her awareness of him skyrocketing. “As long as I stay out of your flower bed and avoid your paella, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

      Flirting...

      For one crazy moment that’s what it felt like. Which was ridiculous, since his daughter was standing in the room and Ash hadn’t known him for more than fifteen minutes. But still, the notion lingered. Ash filled up the glasses and passed them around, careful not to get too close to the man now sitting on the far side of the dining table. She pushed the glass across the table and invited Maisy to take a seat. The teenager shrugged, clearly feigning an overinterest in the music coming from the buds she had in her ears so she wouldn’t have to talk. Ash was familiar with the ploy and pulled out a chair for Maisy, opposite her father.

      “Take a seat,” she said and smiled.

      The girl cranked her gaze toward her for a moment, then plunked heavily in the seat. “Sure. Whatever.”

      Ash moved around the table and sat down, then directed her gaze straight onto the angry-looking teenage at the end of the table. “So, Maisy, tell me why you’re here?”

      Dark blue eyes flicked up and glared at her. “Because he made me.”

      “Yes, so you said,” Ash said with controlled patience. “I want to know why you think you’re here.”

      She shrugged. “So I get to stay out of social services.”

      “Is that where you think you were heading?”

      “Ask him,” she said and jerked her thumb once again in her father’s direction. “He’s got all the answers.”

      Hot Dad was about to respond when Ash held up a hand. “I’m asking you, Maisy.”

      The teenager shrugged again, but wouldn’t look at her. “I dunno...maybe. I’ve done some stuff.”

      “Stuff?”

      Maisy glanced up, her gaze angry and resentful. “I stole a stupid book from a stupid store and got busted. They called the cops and then he had to bail me out.”

      Ash took a sip of tea and nodded. “Do you like to read?”

      The teen’s expression narrowed suspiciously. “Read? Yeah, I guess.”

      “We have quite an extensive bookshelf here,” Ash said and smiled. “In the front living room. My mother is an avid reader and collects all kind of books. You’re welcome to read as many as you like while you’re here. Or there’s a great library in town, if you prefer.”

      “I like fantasy books.”

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