One Night with a Red-Hot Rancher: Tough to Tame / Carrying the Rancher's Heir / One Dance with the Cowboy

She sat quietly, fascinated with the interior of the vehicle. It conjured up visions of the African veldt, of elephants and giraffes and wildebeest. She wished she could afford even a twenty-year-old version of this beast. She’d never have to worry about bad roads again.

He was back shortly with a bag and a cup carrier. He put them in her lap. “Two hamburgers and fries and two chocolate shakes.”

“How…?”

“Well, it’s easier to tell when you’re wearing parts of them,” he pointed out, indicating chocolate milk stains and mustard and catsup and pieces of food all over her clothes. “Fasten your seat belt.”

She did. “I’ll pay you back,” she said firmly.

He grinned. “Whatever.”

He started the engine and drove her out of town. “You’ll have to direct me. I don’t know where you live.”

She named the road, and then the street. They didn’t talk. He pulled up in the front yard of the dinky little house, with its peeling paint and rickety steps and sagging eaves.

He grimaced.

“Hey, don’t knock it,” she said. “It’s got a pretty good roof and big rooms and it’s paid for. A distant cousin willed it to us.”

“Nice of him. Do you have any other cousins?”

“No. It’s just me and Kell.”

“No other siblings?”

She shook her head. “We don’t have any family left.”

He gave the house a speaking look.

“If we had the money to fix it up, it would look terrific,” she said.

He helped her out of the car and onto the porch. He hesitated about handing her the bag with the food and the carrier of milkshakes.

“Would you like to come in and meet Kell?” she ventured. “Only if you want to,” she added quickly.

“Yes, I would.”

She unlocked the door and motioned him in. “Kell, I’m home!” she called. “I brought company.”

“If it’s wearing lipstick and has a good sense of humor, bring it in here quick!” he quipped.

Dr. Rydel burst out laughing. “Sorry, I don’t wear lipstick,” he called back.

“Oops.”

Cappie laughed and walked toward the room a little unsteadily, motioning the vet to follow her.

Kell was propped up in bed with the old laptop. He paused, eyebrows arched, as they walked in. “We should have ordered more food,” he said with a grin.

Cappie winced. “Well, see, the food is the problem. I was pulling out of the parking lot and the engine died. A drunk man ran into the car and pretty much killed it.”

“Luckily he didn’t kill you,” Kell said, frowning. “Are you all right?”

“Just bruised a little. Dr. Rydel was kind enough to bring me home. Dr. Rydel, this is my brother, Kell,” she began.

“You’re the veterinarian?” Kell asked, and his silvery-gray eyes twinkled. “I thought you had fangs and a pointed tail…”

“Kell!” she burst out, horrified.

Dr. Rydel chuckled. “Only during office hours,” he returned.

“I’ll kill you!” she told her brother.

“Now, now,” Dr. Rydel said complacently. “We all know I’m a horror to work for. He’s just saying what you aren’t comfortable telling me.”

“And he does have a sense of humor,” Kell said. “Thanks for bringing her home,” he added, and the smile faded. “My driving days are apparently over.”

“There are vehicles with hand controls now,” Dr. Rydel pointed out.

“We’re ordering one of those as soon as we get our new yacht paid off,” Kell replied with a serious expression.

Cappie burst out laughing. “And our dandy indoor swimming pool.”

Dr. Rydel smiled. “At least you still have a sense of humor.”

“It’s the only part of me that works,” Kell replied. “I’ve offered to check myself into a military home, but she won’t hear of it.”

“Over my dead body,” she reiterated, and glared at him.

He sighed. “It’s nice to be loved, but you can take family feeling over the cliff with you, darlin’,” he reminded her.

“Sink or swim, we’re a matched set,” she said stubbornly. “I’m not putting you out on the street.”

“Military homes can be very nice,” Kell began.

Cappie grimaced. “Your milkshake is getting warm,” she interrupted. She took the carrier from Dr. Rydel and handed one to Kell, along with a straw. “There’s your burger and fries,” she said. “Working?”

“Taking a short break to play mah-jongg,” he replied. “I’m actually winning, too.”

“I play Sudoku,” Dr. Rydel commented.

Kell groaned. “I can’t do numbers. I tried that game and thought I’d go nuts. I couldn’t even get one column to line up. How do you do it?”

“I’m left-brained,” the other man said simply. “Numbers and science. I’d have loved to be a writer, but I’m spelling-challenged.”

Kell laughed. “I’m left-brained, too, but I can’t handle Sudoku. I can spell, however,” he added, tongue in cheek.

“That’s why we have a bookkeeper,” Dr. Rydel said. “I think people would have issues if their names and animal conditions were constantly misspelled. I had a time in college.”