Hot Holiday Rancher

Rubbing the back of his neck, he walked over to the double wooden doors of his pantry. Intricately carved, the wood depicted a rearing horse on a landscape. It was a touch of personality in this state-of-the-art kitchen that was otherwise pretty much devoid of personality. He removed a bag of marshmallows and a mason jar filled with hot chocolate mix and set them on the counter. He pulled out milk from the fridge.

“Well, then, Esme, let’s agree not to talk about your father.” He spun a pan in his hand, setting it down on the front right burner.

Not discussing her dad was rather counterproductive to her reason for braving the storm to see him. But she wasn’t going to argue with him. She would work her way back to the subject when the opportunity arose.

“Fair enough.” And while she waited, she couldn’t resist asking, “Let’s start with who you were expecting.”

“Actually, three someones.” The milk simmered on the gas stove.

He reached up to the open shelves, selecting an oversize mug. His hands were calloused and capable, telling a story. He didn’t just own this massive spread. He worked it.

Surprise lit through her. “Three people you didn’t know and wouldn’t recognize?”

So…mystery women. What was this man up to?

Jesse had maneuvered to a well-stocked bar next to the stainless steel fridge. She noticed a sole picture beside it—of a girl in her twenties who shared his intense green eyes. A sibling perhaps? It was the first—and only—sign of personal effects she’d spotted since entering his ranch house/mansion. A private man, then.

He held up a bottle of peppermint schnapps and quirked an inquiring eyebrow. She nodded and he set the bottle on the counter beside the rest of the ingredients.

“In my defense, Esme, it was dark when I found you and you were—are drenched. Speaking of which, you should change before you catch a cold. Your hot chocolate will be ready soon.” He stood toe to toe, the spicy and damp scent of him teasing her senses. He passed over the stack of clothes—sweats, a tee and socks—his calloused knuckles brushing hers. “I’ll tell you all about the three mystery women when you get back.”

Her hands still tingling from the light touch, she sure hoped her father appreciated her efforts here. Because she suspected focus on her task was going to be tough to come by with Jesse Stevens.

She wasn’t even one day into this promotional excursion and already she’d made a mess of things. One that not even the longest, steamiest of showers could make right.

Esme was no stranger to luxury, but she still appreciated the plush robe and heated floors in the guest bathroom he led her to.

An all-Texas bathroom for sure, with a touch of modern rustic charm in the form of the polished horns on the wall opposite the luxurious Jacuzzi. But there was also a large tinted window that offered a view of the Christmas lights lining the fence. The only other lights came from a bunkhouse in the distance.

Under this roof, she was alone. With Jesse Stevens.

Exhaling hard, she plucked one of the lotions from the basket on the counter. She opened the top and inhaled the delicious scent of peppermint, which reminded her of that spiked cocoa waiting for her. Along with the man.

Smoothing the lotion onto her legs, she found her thoughts drifting back to Jesse. His broad shoulders. His blond hair spiked and mussed. Her skin tingled from more than the minty cream.

She’d never doubted her professionalism. Her cool head. And while she worked for the family company, she’d allowed this to become too personal. This wasn’t even about the business. This was about her father’s quest to be the president of a club. Which many would have thought meant she was doing a favor, not a job.

Many would be wrong. This was more than a favor. She was trying to earn her dad’s approval. Even knowing that shouldn’t matter so much to her, an adult woman, she couldn’t dodge the truth.

She risked a glance in the mirror. With her hair wet and snarled, she was a mess. A far cry from how she’d started the morning with a spa day. Even her manicure hadn’t survived, one nail broken and two others chipped.

It was almost comical, really, as if all her professional facade had been wiped away. Her slacks were ruined. Her silk blouse very likely unsalvageable, too.

All that was left of the real her were her champagne-colored satin underwear and her diamond stud earrings.

At least she had something to wear other than the robe. She stepped into the baggy sweatpants, then the Texas A&M pullover, the fabric warm and tantalizing against her bare skin. She tugged on the athletic socks, bunching them around her ankles. A far cry from the heels she’d slipped on this morning with such relish. But as least she was warm. And clean.

She left the steam-filled bathroom and returned to her suite. Swiping her phone from the coffee table, she dropped down into the desk chair next to the fireplace. Stones flanked the fireplace, giving the guest suite the feel of a swanky cabin. Her toes sank into the plush rug as she FaceTimed her sister.

Of all of her siblings, Angela Perry worried the most. And judging by the four texts Esme had received while she was showering, her sister was imagining every worst-case scenario.

She propped the phone against a leather-bound book on the desk to free her hands to brush through the rat’s nest that had replaced her hair.

Within a few rings, her sister’s blond hair and rounded face came into view. Angela sat on the ground in front of the new gas fireplace she’d just had installed, flames flickering. Orchestral carols played softly in the background.

“Well, hello there.” Angela stared back at her, her blue eyes flaring in surprise. “You look…not like yourself. No offense meant.”

“None taken.” Running the brush through a knot in her hair, Esme laughed lightly. Her sister had never been a clotheshorse, preferring an understated style. A love of fashion had been at least one thing Esme could share with Melinda, since Angela and her twin had just about everything else in common.

They even lived in the same condominium building—an upscale thirty-two-floor limestone high-rise with wraparound windows and expansive views. The twins had even chosen the same layout, Angela on the fifteenth floor and Melinda on the twenty-fourth.

“Well, this has been quite a day. Or night, rather.”

Angela tossed a scrap of Christmas wrapping paper into the fire behind her, then reached for another roll. “Definitely not the image of my glamorous sister.”

“Stranger things have happened.” But heat still stung her cheeks. One of the ways Esme gained her confidence—and kept her sensitive soul in check—was through a careful curation of makeup, hair and luxurious clothes. The oversize sweats she was wearing rattled her. Threw her off-balance.

Though, if she were being honest, not any more than her sexy host.

Her sister’s thin fingers moved deftly over a small stack of jewelry boxes with elegant silver script reading “Diamonds in the Rough.” Esme guessed the packages were for her and Melinda, not that she could see inside. Most likely Melinda’s contained something to celebrate her baby on the way. The pregnancy had been a surprise to Melinda and her new husband, Slade, but a welcome one. And pregnancy hadn’t slowed down her sister’s philanthropic works one bit.

To her right, Angela had a bin filled with gold and red foil paper with intricate bows. Designer-level gift-wrapping supplies. A small stack of already-wrapped presents glistened in the fire glow. Esme always told her sister they could afford to pay someone to wrap the gifts for them, but Angela insisted she enjoyed doing it herself, making each one a work of art.

And Christmas was all the more special since Angela had reunited with her former fiancé, Ryder Currin.

Angela ripped clear tape off to secure the golden foil on one of the smaller jewelry boxes. “I’m glad you called. I was starting to get worried. Weather reports are looking terrible in Royal.”

Esme thought of the soaked, muddy clothes she had carefully placed in a bag next to the bathtub. She winced a little. “The reports are accurate.”

“But you’re okay?” her sister asked, genuine worry in her voice.

She nodded, enjoying the soft sounds of violins surging through “Ave Maria.”

“I got caught in a flash flood, but lucky for me, I was close to Stevens’s ranch. He saw my headlights and came to my rescue.”

“Sounds like a close call. I can’t imagine your low-slung car held up well in those conditions.”

“You can get the judgy tone out of your voice. I know you weren’t a fan of my purchase.” Esme worked the last of the tangles from her hair, smoothing the brush down the length until she was satisfied that all the knots were out. At least she’d managed to restore some semblance of order in her life.

“It’s your money to do with as you please,” her sister said as she reached toward a stack of unwrapped presents. Picking up a handsome brass shaving kit, she started sizing up the necessary material to wrap it.

“Well, you can rest easy. My next purchase will come with four-wheel drive.” Sporty four-wheel drive.

Angela set down the paper and peered into the screen, her blue eyes fixed but still kind. The look of an older sister. “I just care about you.”

“I know.” It was tough to discard the defensiveness sometimes, feeling like an outsider with her sisters’ twin bond. “And thank you for caring.”

Her sister nodded, continuing her methodical wrapping. Without looking up from lining up the edge of the paper with machinelike precision, she said, “So, what’s the progress with Jesse Stevens?”