Rancher's Covert Christmas

When she didn’t answer, he glanced up and met her raised-eyebrow, exasperated expression. “No, Zane. I just threw some random numbers on the page for kicks.”

He rolled his eyes. “I see marriage hasn’t made you less sarcastic.”

Mention of Piper’s recent wedding brought a quick smile to her lips. “Nor has it made me less meticulous with my numbers.” She folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in the chair across the desk from him. “Besides, you ask me that every month, dork.”

She added a lopsided grin to soften the epithet his siblings had given him when they were kids.

“Yeah, okay.” He turned back to the computer screen and sighed. “Maybe I was just hoping there was better news than this. If we don’t start getting reservations and deposits soon, we’ll be out of cash before we open in April. I refuse to go back to Gill for another loan.”

Just the thought that his high school rival and all-around SOB oversaw the business loan for McCall Adventure Ranch soured his gut. The sooner he and his siblings could get out from under that debt the better. But the numbers Piper had presented him this morning showed a lot of red ink and expenditures.

“None of us want that,” Piper said and leaned down to pat the head of the family’s Maine Coon, Zeke. The cat rubbed against her shins and mewed at her. “I know, Zeke! Right?” she said to the cat. “See, even Zeke knows what a putz Gill is.” Dusting loose fur from her fingers as she rose from her chair, Piper flashed her brother a conspiratorial grin, which he returned. “I gotta go. I’m late.”

“You headed out to pick Connor up from school?” Zane asked without taking his eyes off the computer screen.

“Yep. What time do you expect that reporter to get in?”

Zane’s chest tightened. Even though his family had been enthusiastic about having the travel writer come visit, he remained skeptical. Sure, good publicity, free publicity, would be great for the adventure company. But he’d gotten a weird vibe from the Well Traveled reporter that he hadn’t been able to shake. He trusted his instincts about people, and the odd conversation they’d had set him on edge.

He flipped his wrist to check the time. “According to her last text, she should be here anytime now. She’s driving in from Boulder.”

“Hmm. Guess I’ll meet her when I get back then.” Piper shouldered her purse and rattled her car keys as she headed out.

“Tell my favorite nephew I said hi,” Zane called as she left the office.

Zeke, abandoned by Piper, moved on to demand attention from Zane. The cat hopped up on the desk and walked in front of the computer monitor, his fluffy tail swishing in Zane’s face. “Uh, excuse me, Fluffbutt.”

Zeke nudged Zane’s hand with his nose. Pulling an amused face, Zane scratched the cat behind the ear for a few moments then lifted him down to the floor. “Now, vamoose. I have work to finish before our guest arrives.” He gave the cat’s head a final pat before returning to the spreadsheets Piper had prepared.

He stared at the dismal numbers with a pit in his stomach. No matter how many ways he tried to rework or reimagine the company budget, the bottom line remained the same. The delays in opening, the expense of rebuilding the zip line and increased insurance premiums had hit the fledgling McCall Adventures hard. Really hard.

Zane jammed his fingers through his short-cropped hair and buzzed his lips as he exhaled his frustration. Zeke, who rarely took no for an answer, jumped into his lap and, purring loudly, head-butted Zane’s hand. He ruffled the cat’s head. “Thanks, pal. But what I need is about a hundred thousand dollars to get the business back in black.”

“Zane,” his twin brother Josh said, thumping his hand on the office door frame. “Your reporter just pulled in the front drive.”

“She’s not my reporter,” he replied, frowning, and not sure why the pronoun bothered him so much.

“You’re the one said she could come stay and write her article.” Josh hitched his head toward the front of the family house. “Yours or not, get out here and greet her.”

“You heard the man,” he told Zeke, shooing the cat to the floor as he pushed his chair back from the desk.

“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.”