The Rancher's Unexpected Family. Helen Lacey

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      I am officially the most foolish woman on the planet.

      Ash was still cussing herself twenty minutes later as she washed up and changed into fresh jeans and a red blouse. Then she opened her laptop and typed in the name Cole Quartermaine.

      She clicked several of the links that came up, scanned the pages and sat back on the bed, looking at the images on the screen. The Quartermaines were an old-money family in Phoenix. His third-generation Irish Catholic father had a mop of auburn hair and sparkling blue eyes, and his African American mother was so beautiful she looked like a movie star. He had two sisters, both younger. One was a lawyer, the other a marketing executive who worked in the family business. Cole had been born into a NASCAR empire and had a promising career as a driver until a near-fatal accident when he was twenty-seven. Now he managed the family’s team alongside his father. It was impressive stuff.

      There were several pictures of him with an array of beautiful women and she figured a man who looked like Cole didn’t have to work hard to get female company. She’d read that he had an ex-wife and there was no mention of a current significant other.

      By the time she returned to the kitchen it was past two o’clock. Her mother and uncle would be home later that afternoon, along with Jaye and the three kids currently staying at the ranch. They’d headed into town that morning for haircuts and lunch at JoJo’s Pizza Parlor and to give Ash some much needed time to do a few repairs on the old truck that had seen better days. But she wasn’t in the mood to spend any more time under the hood. She planned on making a roast for dinner that night, so set about preparing the meal and getting the meat into the oven. Then she pulled one of her mother’s signature peach pies out of the freezer and left it to thaw on the counter.

      From the kitchen window she had a clear view of all the cabins and wandered back and forth a few times to see if there was any movement from the one now occupied by her newest guests. But nothing. She made a pot of coffee and looked through the pantry for something to snack on, settling on a half-eaten packet of rice crackers.

      Note to self—must stop thinking about a certain hot dad. Focus on the real reason he’s here.

      Easy.

      Ash was dipping into the packet for her third cracker when there was a knock on the door of the back mudroom, which was just off the kitchen. She turned on her heels. The door was open and Cole stood there, looking so totally gorgeous as he rested one strong shoulder against the jamb that her mouth turned dry and the cracker she was eating suddenly felt like sandpaper as it lodged in her throat.

      “Oh...hello,” she said and coughed, then coughed again, quickly making her way around the counter for some water. She poured a glass, still coughing. She took a few sips, but the itching in her throat remained and she coughed again. And again. Until her eyes starting watering and she had to bend over to alleviate the dry, choking sensation.

      Then she felt an unexpected hand on her back. A large, soothing hand that patted her gently between the shoulder blades. The coughing quickly subsided and she swallowed hard, feeling the heat of his touch through the cotton shirt she wore. Ash straightened immediately, swiveling on her heels. Which only heightened the intimacy of the space between them—which was no space at all. His hand remained on her back and they were close enough that she could see he had a small scar on his temple and another under his chin. And the scent of him once again assailed her senses. Never in her life had she been so intensely aware of a man—particularly one she’d known less than an hour. But this man made her remember that she was more than a mom, a rancher and a police officer...and that she was very much a flesh-and-blood woman.

      “Are you okay now?” he asked quietly, dropping his hand.

      Ash stepped back and nodded. “Ah, yes... I’m fine.”

      “I’m sorry if I startled you,” he said and moved around the counter.

      “Oh, no problem, I feel fine now. What can I do for you?”

      “I thought we should talk,” he said and met her gaze. “About Maisy. You probably have some questions and I’d like to discuss this without my daughter in earshot.”

      “That’s a good idea,” Ash said, regaining her equilibrium and good sense as she poured coffee into two mugs, and then asked the first obvious question. “Can you tell me about her mother?”

      He shrugged a little uncomfortably. “Her name was Deanna. She died eight months ago. Pancreatic cancer.”

      “I’m so sorry,” Ash said, handing him one of the mugs.

      “Don’t be,” he said quickly and then frowned when he realized how odd his reply must have sounded. “I mean, of course, yes, it’s tragic for someone so young...and for Maisy. But I didn’t know her very well.”

      Ash’s brow came up instantly. “Really?”

      “Well, of course I knew her,” he said, clearly uncomfortable. “You want the story, here it is—nearly fifteen years ago I knew her for three days. I was twenty-two, she was twenty. We met at a race and we hooked up, spending three nights together. I never saw her again after that. And then eight months ago a woman from social services knocked on my door and told me I had a teenage daughter.”

      She sat down opposite him. “Deanna never let you know she was pregnant?”

      He shook his head. “It wasn’t exactly a love match. It was a weekend.”

      “How do you think you would have reacted had she told you from the beginning?”

      He shrugged again. “I’m not sure. At the time my life was hectic. I’d just won my first major race and I was regularly traveling around the country. And I wasn’t interested in anything serious. But I’d like to believe I would have tried to do the right thing. I’ll never know. All I know is that now I am in a position to do what’s right...and that’s to try and have some kind of relationship with my daughter and give her a home.”

      Ash admired his honesty. “She seems very resistant to the idea.”

      “She hates my guts,” he said bluntly. “But I’m all she’s got.”

      “Are there any relatives on her mother’s side?”

      “None,” he replied. “Her parents have both passed away and there are only a couple of very distant cousins in Wichita. My parents and both my sisters have tried to help, even offering to have Maisy go and live with them.”

      “But?” Ash prompted.

      “She says she doesn’t want that, either. Frankly, I’m all out of ideas.”

      Ash nodded. “But you want her to be with you?”

      “Of course,” he snapped back quickly. “She’s my kid. I’m her father. We’re family. And family is everything. I just need to work out how to get her to at least like me.”

      “She doesn’t have to like you,” Ash said earnestly. “She doesn’t have to love you. You just have to love her. No one tells you that when you become a parent—it’s something we all learn in our own time and our own way. She’ll come around, but you need to be prepared for a lot of difficulty in between. Anger, despair and probably a lot of silence. As irrational as it seems, she probably blames you for her mother’s death.”

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