A Baby in the Bunkhouse

Jacey wondered what he found unacceptable about the nursery items—the fact that they were antiques, or that they were a little on the frilly side, with lacy white overlay linens on the bassinet and pastel needlepoint cushions on the chair and cushion. “The bassinet is even on wheels, with a locking mechanism on the bottom, so I can move it around as I need to.” She paused as the next idea hit. “You’re not upset that I’m using Evans family heirlooms, are you?”

He gave her the kind of enigmatic look that held her at arm’s length once again. “Why would I care about that?” he asked finally.

Wondering if she would ever understand Rafferty Evans and what drove him, she expressed her gratitude. “In any case, it was sweet of your dad to get it out of storage and wash the linens in baby detergent and have it all set up for me.”

Rafferty nodded. “He can be very helpful.”

As well as annoying in some ways, Jacey guessed. Deciding she and Rafferty may as well be straight with each other, as long as they were going to be residing under the same roof, she continued, “Although…just so you know…I told your father it probably wasn’t a good idea to have me here.”

He went very still. His expression was as maddeningly inscrutable as his posture. “So you’re leaving the job?”

Jacey couldn’t say why, but it hurt her feelings that Rafferty was not as pleased as everyone else to have her on the ranch. Not that he didn’t have reason to be irritated with her. She had caused him some trouble. Brought him out in a driving rain. Got her car stuck in a muddy ditch. Gone into labor and forced him—by process of elimination—to deliver a baby on ranch property.

She had also fixed breakfast for the men. And was about to prepare hot meals for them three times a day, through the holidays, as a ranch employee. She would have thought he’d be relieved not to have to worry about feeding the cowboys.

Instead, he kept looking at her as if he’d seen a ghost. And not a particularly nice one at that.

“Would you prefer it if I didn’t take the job and left the ranch?” she asked, determined to remain unintimidated by his brusqueness.

He waved her inquiry away with an impatient hand. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“It matters to me,” Jacey countered stubbornly.

Rafferty frowned, his gaze probing her. “Why?” he asked, indifferently.

“Because! I’m trying to figure out who you are—Mr. I Couldn’t Remember My Manners If a Snake Jumped Up and Bit Me.”

“Snakes don’t jump,” he said, a muscle flexing in his jaw.

She stepped closer, as if she hadn’t noticed how impatient he was becoming. “Or are you ‘The Really Nice Guy’ who helped deliver my baby? The skill with which you dispense rudeness and inhospitality says it’s the first. But the gentleness you exhibited when Caitlin and I needed you, or the way you were holding my baby just now, says that kindness isn’t entirely foreign to your nature.”

He regarded her with a slow, devastating smile. “I thought your sister was the psychiatrist.”

Jacey shrugged. “Her constant analyzing is rubbing off on me.”

He came closer, too, daring her with a look. His eyebrow went up. “And what does your analyzing say about me?” he asked softly.

A ribbon of desire swept through her. She had the sense that she was getting too close for comfort, yet could not turn away. “I think you protest too much. That you kind of like the idea of having me here, even if it’s only going to be through the holidays.” After that, she’d told Eli she would try to find something in her field.

Rafferty rolled his eyes. “Now you are off in la-la land.”

“Look,” Jacey said, “I may not have trained professionally, if that’s what you’re worried about, but I am a great cook.”

Rafferty blew out a contemptuous breath. “Your skill at the stove has nothing to do with how I feel about this arrangement.”

“Then what does?” Jacey demanded, stepping closer still.

“This,” he told her gruffly, pulling her into his arms for a steamy, all-bets-off kiss.

It had been way too long since Jacey had been embraced this way. Unable to withdraw from the evocative pressure of his mouth moving over hers, she surrendered to the taste and feel of him. It felt so good to be surrounded by such strength and warmth, to lose herself in a kiss that was so sensual and searing it took her breath away.

She had been kissed before. But never like this, in a way that sent emotions swirling through her at breakneck speed. Never in a way that brought forth such a soul-deep yearning.

Rafferty had figured she’d slap him across the face before their lips ever touched. Instead, logic and feelings had fled. Feelings, need, had taken over. She had wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back passionately. So passionately, in fact, he didn’t ever want to let her go. Their lips had just begun to fuse, and already he wanted another kiss that was deeper and hotter and more intimate than the last. And damn her, he thought, as she curved her body into his, if she didn’t want it too…

Which was why it had to stop. Now. Before it went any further. He let her go. “Now do you see why it’s a bad idea for you to be here?” he asked.

“Maybe for you,” she retorted, blushing furiously. “Since you can’t control your lust or your tongue.”

She swore, realizing too late the way he was taking what she had just said.

“I meant your mouth,” she corrected over his chuckling.

His rogue amusement only deepened.

All the more frustrated, she swept her hands through her hair. “I meant your words. Manners. Deeds,” she finished flatly.

Rafferty agreed—he shouldn’t have kissed her, and she sure as heck shouldn’t have kissed him back. But they had and now the passion that had been simmering beneath the surface was out there. Hotter than a fire burning in the grate on Christmas Eve.

“I do have a way of upsetting women.”

“That’s an understatement and a half.”

“That being the case—” he sauntered lazily toward the door “—maybe you should leave.”

Chapter Four

“Man, it smells good in here,” Stretch said.

“Anything we can do to help?” Curly asked with his lothario smile.

Jacey gave the gravy on the stove another stir, then checked the oven to see that the traditional corn-bread stuffing was almost done. The five hired hands had been hanging around the bunkhouse all morning, taking turns holding Caitlin, and sampling the various Thanksgiving dishes as she prepared them. “You-all can set the table.”

“For seven?” Red asked.

Jacey did a quick calculation. Five cowboys, Eli and Rafferty and herself. That made…“Eight.”

“You including Rafferty?”

“Yes. Why?” Just because Rafferty had been avoiding her entirely for the last four weeks—she had not seen him once—did not mean he would not grace them with his presence for the ranch’s traditional turkey dinner.

“Um…” Hoss hemmed and hawed. “Rafferty doesn’t do holidays anymore.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t do holidays?” Jacey slid the yeast rolls in to bake, alongside the sweet-potato and green-bean casseroles.

Gabby spoke for the group reluctantly. “Well, not since…you know, the thing with Angelica.”

“What thing with Angelica?”