A Diamond In The Rough: One Good Cowboy / Pursued by the Rich Rancher / Pregnant by the Cowboy CEO

Mariah patted each twin on the cheek and smiled sadly at Stone since he held himself apart. “It’s inoperable brain cancer.”

His throat closed up tight. Amie gasped, blinking fast but a tear still escaped.

Their grandmother shook her head. “None of that emotional stuff. I’ve never had much patience for tears. I want optimism. Doctors are hopeful treatment can reduce the size of the tumor. That could give me years instead of months.”

Months?

Damn it.

The wind got knocked out of him all over again. More than once, Stone had been called a charmer with a stone-cold heart. But that heart ached right now at the thought of anything happening to his grandmother.

Shrugging, Mariah leaned back in the saddle. “Still, even if the treatments help, I can’t risk the tumor clouding my judgment. I won’t put everything I’ve worked for at risk by waiting too long to make important decisions about Diamonds in the Rough and the Hidden Gem Ranch.”

The family holdings meant everything to her. To all of them. It had never dawned on him until now that his grandmother—the major stockholder—might want to change the roles they all played to keep the empire rock-solid. He must be mistaken. Better to wait and hear her out rather than assume.

Amie wasn’t so restrained, but then she never had been. “What have you decided?”

“I haven’t,” Mariah conceded. “Not yet, but I have a plan, which is why I asked you three to come riding with me today.”

Alex, the quiet one of the bunch, frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“You’ll each need to do something for me—” Mariah angled forward, forearm on the saddle horn “—something to help put my mind at ease about who to place in charge.”

“You’re testing us,” Amie accused softly.

“Call it what you like.” Gran was unapologetic, her jaw set. “But as it stands now, I’m not sold on any of you taking over.”

That revelation stabbed pain clear through his already raw nerves.

Enough holding back. He was a man of action, and the urge to be in control of something, anything, roared through him. “What do you need me to do for you?”

“Stone, you need to find homes for all four of my dogs.”

A fish plopped in the pond, the only sound breaking his stunned silence.

Finally, he asked, “You’re joking, right? To lighten the mood.”

“I’m serious. My pets are very important to me. You know that. They’re family.”

“It just seems a...strange test.” Was the tumor already affecting her judgment?

His grandmother shook her head slowly. “The fact that you don’t know how serious this is merely affirms my concerns. You need to prove to me you have the heart to run this company and possibly oversee the entire family portfolio.”

She held him with her clear blue gaze, not even a whisper of confusion showing. Then she looked away, clicked her horse into motion and started back toward the main house, racing past the cabins vacationers rented.

Shaking off his daze, he followed her, riding along the split rail fence, his cousins behind him as they made their way home.

Home.

Some would call it a mansion—a rustic log ranch house with two wings. Their personal living quarters occupied one side, and the other side housed the lodge run by Alex. His cousin had expanded the place from a small bed-and-breakfast to a true hobby ranch, with everything from horseback riding to a spa, fishing and trail adventures...even poker games, saloon-style. They catered to a variety of people’s needs, from vacations to weddings.

The gift store featured some of the McNair signature jewelry pieces, just a sampling from their flagship store in Fort Worth.

Alex was one helluva businessman in his own right. Gran could be serious about turning over majority control to him.

Or maybe she had someone else in mind. A total stranger. He couldn’t even wrap his brain around that unthinkable possibility. His whole being was consumed with shock—and hell, yes, grief—not over the fact that he might lose the company but because he would lose Gran. A month or a year from now, he couldn’t envision a world without her.

And he also couldn’t deny her anything she needed to make her last days easier.

Stone urged his horse faster to catch her before she reached the stables.

“Okay, fine, Gran,” he said as he pulled alongside her, their horses’ gaits in sync. “I can do that for you. I’ll line up people to take, uh...” What the hell were their names? “Your dogs.”

“There are four of them, in case you’ve forgotten that, as well as forgetting their names.”

“The scruffy one’s named Dorothy, right?”

Gran snorted almost as loudly as the horse. “Close. The dog looks like Toto, but her name is Pearl. The yellow lab is Gem, given to us by a friend. My precious Rottie that I adopted from a shelter is named Ruby. And my baby chi-weenie’s name is Sterling.”

Chi-what? Oh, right, a Chihuahua and dachshund. “What about your two cats?”

Surely he would get points for remembering there were two.

“Amie is keeping them.”

She always was a suck-up.

“Then I’ll keep the dogs. They can live with me.” How much trouble could four dogs be? He had lots of help. He would find one of those doggy day cares.

“I said I wanted them to go to good homes.”

He winced. “Of course you do.”

“Homes approved of by an expert,” she continued as she stopped her horse by the stables.

“An expert?” Hairs on the back of his neck rose with an impending sense of Karma about to bite him on the butt.

He didn’t even have to look down the lengthy walkway between horse stalls to know Johanna Fletcher was striding toward them on long, lean legs that could have sold a million pairs of jeans. She usually wore a French braid to keep her wavy blond hair secure when she worked. His fingers twitched at the memory of sliding through that braid to unleash all those tawny strands around her bare shoulders.

What he wouldn’t give to lose himself in her again, to forget about the thought of his grandmother’s illness. Even if the best scenario played out, a couple of years wasn’t enough.

For now, he would do whatever it took to keep Gran happy.

“Your expert?” he prodded.

“All adoptions must be approved by our ranch vet tech, Johanna Fletcher.”

Of course.