Книга - Rancher’s Covert Christmas

Rancher's Covert Christmas
Beth Cornelison


Sabotage, secrets and desire…Undercover private investigator Erin Palmer is tantalizingly close to discovering who wants to destroy the McCall family. And as she creeps closer to the truth—and straight into danger—she’s burrowing deep into Zane McCall’s heart. For Zane, though, trust is everything. So when he discovers Erin isn’t who she seems, can he forgive her…before it’s too late for them both?







Sabotage, secrets and desire...

The McCall Adventure Ranch miniseries concludes!

Undercover private investigator Erin Palmer is tantalizingly close to discovering who wants to destroy the McCall family. And as she creeps closer to the truth—and straight into danger—she’s burrowing deep into Zane McCall’s heart. For Zane, though, trust is everything. So when he discovers Erin isn’t who she seems, can he forgive her...before it’s too late for them both?


BETH CORNELISON began working in public relations before pursuing her love of writing romance. She has won numerous honors for her work, including a nomination for the RWA RITA® Award for The Christmas Stranger. She enjoys featuring her cats (or friends’ pets) in her stories and always has another book in the pipeline! She currently lives in Louisiana with her husband, one son and three spoiled cats. Contact her via her website, bethcornelison.com (http://www.bethcornelison.com).


Also by Beth Cornelison (#ud0e994ef-21a1-51ef-8250-3ad136980580)

Rancher’s Deadly Reunion

Rancher’s High-Stakes Rescue

Cowboy Christmas Rescue

“Rescuing the Witness”

Rock-a-Bye Rescue

“Guarding Eve”

The Return of Connor Mansfield

Protecting Her Royal Baby

The Mansfield Rescue

Soldier’s Pregnancy Protocol

The Reunion Mission

Cowboy’s Texas Rescue

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Rancher’s Covert Christmas

Beth Cornelison






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07961-7

RANCHER’S COVERT CHRISTMAS

© 2018 Beth Cornelison

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To my sisters, Martha and Lenna. You’re the best!


Contents

Cover (#ud294469c-4552-5e11-a783-e55d615209c4)

Back Cover Text (#u0a91c230-567b-5781-8993-0b4530119eb2)

About the Author (#u690314de-8e76-5ea0-a5fb-c29e4d0b4a19)

Booklist (#u22c5649a-534a-52f2-9209-eb65cd3fe107)

Title Page (#u96206faa-2ae0-5bdc-9d5f-0d229176ab28)

Copyright (#ud72d7d74-f1be-5677-92c7-6002852a235e)

Dedication (#u9162f1d0-582b-5831-84be-b5a14ffff9b3)

Prologue (#uef93f14f-0d08-5c29-806a-1ac4e23ebe6f)

Chapter 1 (#u1d7800af-5c61-58d0-bc3f-2df59fc0f099)

Chapter 2 (#u90952465-637f-5b9a-b8bc-662a3ac53e2a)

Chapter 3 (#u2e903ba2-2d1e-5f30-894e-6851136886fc)

Chapter 4 (#ue62b9fa0-50f8-51ef-a667-e9ef95c0e251)

Chapter 5 (#ud6db19ee-cd09-5dc1-8807-4879eded3320)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




Prologue (#ud0e994ef-21a1-51ef-8250-3ad136980580)


He needed to be free of his blackmailer once and for all.

A cut brake line should do the job.

One last time, he’d do the man’s bidding, but then, no more.

He made his way into the garage where the Double M owners parked the large pickup truck used to tow their cattle trailer. No overhead light. The light might draw attention, he decided, and dropped the hand that hovered near the switch. He fumbled in the dark until he found the snake-necked flashlight on a shelf on a sidewall. Shuffling slowly, his path lit only by the thin moonlight that filtered through the high window, he made his way past the family’s personal vehicles. He stopped at the Ford F-350 that would haul the trailer with the largest part of this year’s herd to market. Or not.

His goal was to strand the family long enough that they missed the best sales days. If they didn’t make it to market, didn’t get top dollar for the cattle, the financial setback would devastate the struggling ranch. And he could finally be finished with the plot to ruin the Double M.

Raising the hood, he stepped up on a stool to lean over the engine. He used the flashlight to locate the main brake line, then centered an empty coffee can beneath the reservoir.

Unfolding his pocketknife, he sliced a thin line in the tube that fed fluid to the brakes. A slow leak of yellow-tinged liquid seeped from the cut. He bent the tube slightly, accelerating the flow into the can. The rapid drip, drip, drip of liquid into the aluminum can synced with the anxious drumming of his heart. He needed to hurry. His absence would be noticed soon, and someone might come looking for him.

He considered allowing a small telltale puddle of the brake fluid to collect on the garage floor. He wanted the damage to be discovered before the trip over the mountains, just not soon enough to repair the damage before the scheduled departure. His goal was to prevent the trip to the cattle market, not to cause an accident.

He heard a noise, a scuff of feet, and he jerked his head up. The overhead light came on, and he blinked in the bright fluorescent glow.

“Oh, hi,” the woman at the door said.

He swallowed hard as she approached and, squeezing the pocketknife handle, his gaze locked on hers.

“I didn’t realize anyone was in h—” She stopped abruptly when her gaze fell to his handiwork.

The dripping of fluid continued, like gunshots in the still garage. The knife in his hand screamed his guilt.

“What are you doing?” Her tone was sharp, accusing. Her eyes narrowed on him, as understanding and outrage hardened her face. “It’s you! You’re the one who’s been sabotaging the ranch!”

Bile rose in his throat, knowing he’d been found out, knowing what awaited him when she told what she’d seen tonight. His heartbeat stuttered. Unless...

“It’s not what it looks like.” He rose and moved toward her.

She took a stumbling step back, shaking her head. “I know what I’m looking at. It explains so much. I won’t let you get away with this!”

Panic swelled in him. A survival instinct. He lunged toward her, grabbing her arm. “No! You can’t say anything!”

“Ow! Let go. You’re hurting me!”

He squeezed tighter, shaking her. “You can’t say anything!”

“Let go, or I’ll scream!”

If he let go, she’d run straight to the main house, tell the family what she’d seen. If she screamed, someone would hear her and come investigate. Neither could happen. He had to make sure she didn’t talk. He narrowed his eyes and snarled, “You can’t say—”

She drew a deep breath and opened her mouth.

Before she could loose the shriek, he snaked his arm around her, still clenching the small knife. He clapped his hand firmly over her mouth and nose. A muffled grunt of surprise rumbled in her throat, and she struggled to free herself from his grip. Between tightening his grip and her thrashing, the pocketknife managed to cut her, slicing through her sleeve and gashing her arm. He shifted his grip, only to accidentally jab her belly when she flinched.

Her accelerated pulse meant that she bled faster and droplets began to make the floor slick as they struggled. Finally he dropped the knife with a clatter. With his hand now free, he wrapped his arm across her sternum and dragged her up against his chest. “Be still!”

His fingers dug into her cheek and chin as he smothered her distressed cry.

Damn, damn, damn! What was he supposed to do with her? How could he shut her up?

Her fingers scrabbled feebly at the hand he had over her mouth. But having pinned her arms at her sides with his other arm, she barely reached his palm. Her efforts did little other than anger him. Why did she have to fight? Why couldn’t she have just promised her silence and left him alone?

Despite the freezing temperatures, sweat popped out on his brow. His heart thumped hard enough that he would have sworn the whole ranch would hear it. Do something! his brain screamed. But the harder she fought, the more rattled he became. The madder, the more desperate.

“Stop it!” He shook her and stumbled when she raised a foot to kick backward at him. His grip tightened as his frustration and fury grew. “I said stop!”

A whimpering mewl escaped from beneath his muffling hand. Her tears dripped from her cheeks to his fingers. Blood continued to leak from her wounds, saturating her clothes and dripping on the floor. Guilt sawed his gut, adding a bitter bite to his agitation. He could feel himself losing the tenuous hold he had on his temper.

When she tried again to break free, twisting her hips, bucking, he gave her another hard shake. “Stop it!” He gritted his teeth, growling, “Stop, stop, stop!”

She wrenched to the left, and he jerked hard back to the right. And heard a crack. Felt the give in her neck. Her body went limp and heavy in his arms.

He stilled. Stunned. An icy terror crawled through him. Slowly he peeled his fingers away from her mouth.

Her head lolled to the side, and when he relaxed the arm across her chest, her legs buckled. She slid to the ground. Inert. Silent.

His breath rasped in shallow gasps as he dropped to his knees to feel for a pulse.

OhGodohGodohGod! What had he done?

Her sightless eyes stared up at him, and acid pooled at the back of his throat. A numb stupor settled over him.

She was...dead.

He’d...murdered her.

Dazed, he slogged through the horrible truths, his sins, which flashed like slides on a screen. A review of all his transgressions. Lies. Arson. Betrayal.

And murder.

He’d killed an innocent woman.

Again.




Chapter 1 (#ud0e994ef-21a1-51ef-8250-3ad136980580)

Two weeks earlier


Deception did not sit well with Erin. Her life’s work, her history, her passion was truth. But her client had been adamant. No one was to know her true purpose for going to the Double M Ranch in Boyd Valley, Colorado. Or rather, she would be going, assuming she could sell her cover story to—she checked the notebook where she’d scribbled the names and phone numbers of her contacts—Zane McCall. Of the four co-owners of McCall Adventure Ranch, Zane was the chief business manager and, according to her client, the primary hurdle she had to pass.

Erin Palmer took a deep breath, mentally reviewing her practiced script, and tapped in the phone number she’d been given. The line rang several times, and she was about to hang up, expecting the call to go to voice mail any moment, when a low male voice answered. “H’lo?”

“Hi,” Erin said, infusing her tone with cheer, “My name is Erin Palmer. I’m looking for Zane McCall.”

“You found him. What can I do for you, Erin?”

An unexpected thrill raced through her hearing her name caressed by his sultry baritone voice.

“Well, Zane—” If he could use her first name, she could use his, too. And no, she wasn’t flirting. After all, she didn’t know anything about the guy other than the melted-dark-chocolate sound of his voice. And flirting would be unprofessional. And—

“Yes?”

Erin wet her lips and refocused her straying thoughts. “I’m a journalist for Well Traveled magazine.” She cringed internally as the lie rolled smoothly from her tongue. “I’m interested in writing a feature piece about adventure ranches and McCall Adventures specifically.” A pregnant pause followed, and Erin’s heart tapped out a staccato beat. “Um...Zane? You there?”

“Yeah. I...” She heard the creak of desk chair and his sigh. “Can I ask why?” His sexy baritone voice was now rife with suspicion.

“Why what?”

“Why McCall Adventures?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and pinched her lips together. Answering his question would require laying out an even more elaborate lie. Her gut twisted as she dug for a believable excuse. She couldn’t say, “Because that’s the cover I’m going with to get me on-site at your ranch.”

She decided to stay as close to the truth as possible. “I heard about the trouble you had with your soft opening, the failure of the zip line and—”

“Wanted to exploit our accident and drag our business through the mud?” The once enchanting voice now had an edge of steel.

Erin swallowed hard. “No! Not at all. Quite the opposite. I respect the way you’ve turned the business around and recovered from the setback. In fact, I’d like to highlight the precautions you’ve taken and the remarkable strides you’ve made toward your relaunch.” She held the phone away from her mouth and pulled a face, shocked at her fawning. Kiss up much, Erin?

After another significant pause, Zane asked, “Well Traveled magazine, you say?”

“That’s right.”

Another chair squeak filtered through the line, followed by what sounded like the clacking of a computer keyboard. A moment passed before it clicked. He was looking up the magazine, verifying her credentials! Of course he would check out her story. He was smart to do it. So she had to be smarter to pull off her cover.

“I’m not officially on staff at the magazine,” she said, quickly pulling the magazine’s website up on her own laptop. “I freelance, and I’m hoping to sell my article to Well Traveled. I’ve queried the editor-in-chief about my article idea, and she said she was interested if I could get her a draft by the end of January.”

“You mean he? The magazine’s website says the editor-in-chief is someone named Bill Sherman.”

Erin cursed silently as she brought up the staff page. Sure enough, the editor-in-chief was a man. He smiled at her from his bio picture in all his balding, bespectacled glory. Erin felt a prickle of perspiration pop out on her face.

This. This was why she hadn’t wanted to lie to Zane and his business partners. She sucked at it. Along with all her other reasons for eschewing the art of deception and vigorously pursuing truth, her complete ineptitude at pretense meant she had a slim chance at pulling it off. Her go-to was always honesty, even if it hurt.

Yes, Officer, I know how fast I was driving. Just write me the ticket.

Yes, DMV worker, that is how much I weigh. I love cheese.

Yes, little sister, those pants make you look fat. Stick with the black pair.

“Oh, sorry. Not Bill. I meant the assistant editor,” Erin countered with what she hoped was a casual-sounding laugh. She scrolled down the staff bio page to the next listing. “Claire Norris is who I queried.”

She should call her client back and refuse this job. While the case intrigued her, the ground rules gave her too much consternation.

“Well...” Zane said and sighed. “A positive article in a travel magazine would be good publicity.” He paused. “Though I hate to remind people of the accident. I’d rather let bygones be bygones regarding that dark chapter of our past.”

Erin wanted to tell Zane that dark chapters were never truly history for anyone. They shaped you, changed you, marked your life forever. But such grim prophesying wasn’t likely to win her points in her appeal to Zane, so she tucked her personal experience with tragedy away and focused on her sales pitch.

“Yes, the article would definitely be good publicity. Which leads me to my special request.”

“A request?” His guarded tone was back.

A shame. She much preferred the casual, flirty baritone. She tried to imagine the face that went with the seductive voice. Typically she didn’t research the subjects of her investigations before meeting them. She trusted her instincts about people, and first impressions, uncolored by personal histories, social media or biased articles, were at the heart of how she operated. She researched businesses, places and things, but people required face-to-face meetings. That intangible but all-important vibe she got by looking people in the eye.

Which brought her back to...

“Yes. I’d like to visit the ranch. Conduct interviews. Get a firsthand look at the business, a feel for the locale. Would it be possible for me to come out there for a week or two? I know it’s right before Christmas, but I’m on deadline.”

“Uh,” he grunted. Clearly she’d caught him off guard. “When?”

“I can be there Monday.”

Dang it. Her curiosity was tickling her. Thrashing her, really. She had to know the face that went with that voice! She hesitated only a moment before opening her Facebook account and doing a search for Zane McCall.

“So soon?” he asked. “I don’t know. We’ve got a busy couple weeks leading up to Christmas. It’s the end of the season, and we’ll be sorting the herd in preparation to go to auction.”

Several Zane McCalls popped up on her screen, and she scanned the list looking for the one whose information matched Mr. Sexy Voice’s. He was third on the list. Boyd Valley, CO. Rancher/Adventurer.

Single. That tidbit excited her more than it should.

“I promise not to get in the way. In fact, I’d love to see the sorting process. If it is key to the ranch business, then it will be great fodder for the article.”

“I thought you said the focus of your story would be the adventure ranch.”

She couldn’t tell anything about Zane’s appearance from the thumbnail profile picture in the list. She chewed her bottom lip, debating, and her finger hovered over her mouse. Curiosity won. She clicked his listing, and his profile page opened.

“Erin?”

She jolted as if she’d been caught snooping in his underwear drawer and slapped her laptop closed. “Oh, uh, right! It is. But I want a complete picture of the ranch and your operations.”

Speaking of pictures... She opened the laptop again, and his Facebook page filled the screen. She zoomed in on his profile picture and caught her breath.

OMG. The photo was of a dark-haired cowboy with a strong, square jaw, wide shoulders and piercing blue eyes. He wore a gray Stetson, a tight T-shirt and a pensive look that sent shivers to her core. Oh, yes. The face matched the voice.

“How much input would we have over what appeared in the final article?” he asked.

Drawing her attention back to her conversation took all of her concentration. Even after she closed the web page, she saw the image of Zane McCall, as if he’d been burned onto her retinas.

She exhaled a cleansing breath, fighting to bring her scattered pulse back under control.

“Pardon?”

“How much editorial input would we be allowed?” Zane repeated.

Since there would never really be an article, she supposed that point was moot. But because she was selling herself, for the time being, as a journalist, she figured her answer needed to reflect a journalistic standard. “Well, I would, of course, want to be sure all of my facts were correct, but beyond that, I would have the last say over my writing. A good journalist can’t allow outside influences to dictate the content of her work.”

“So what assurance do I have that you’re not planning to trash us and get readers by writing some sensational, scandal-mongering thing about the recent events at our ranch?”

Erin settled back in her sofa cushions, intrigued by Zane’s wariness.

“You don’t,” she said bluntly.

She knew his family, the ranch, his new business had been through some rough times. That was why she’d been hired. Maybe his skepticism was understandable, but his distrust of her didn’t bode well for the mission for which she had been hired.

“All you have is my promise, my word that I have no intention of hurting your family or causing your business any grief.” That much was true, and it felt good to be able to be completely honest in that regard. “I want to help your family get the Double M and McCall Adventure Ranch back on track, not derail you.”

Zane was silent, and, conjuring the Facebook picture of him again, she could easily imagine him brooding, mulling his options. Square jaw set. Black eyebrows drawn down in meditation over those pale blue eyes. How would she handle working with him every day during her assignment at the ranch? She’d need to get a handle on her giddy attraction to him. Be professional. Not get distracted.

“Your word?” His doubt was obvious in his heavy tone.

“I know you have no reason to trust me, but it is the best I can offer.” Sensing she might have underestimated her ability to sell her cover, she searched for additional arguments to sway him.

Before she could launch into a further spiel, he said, “I’m willing to have you come and get a look at the adventure ranch operation. We’ve made changes, repairs and are planning a relaunch in the spring.”

She released her breath. “Great! I can be there—”

“But—” he cut in, his voice firm and commanding. A delicious shiver slid through her. His take-charge, alpha-male authority was sexy. She liked a man who knew what he wanted and had the confidence to get it. “I can only speak for the adventure ranch. I’ll have to speak to my father before granting you full access to the ranch. He’s the owner here and has the final word regarding the Double M.”

“Of course.” Erin smiled to herself and relaxed. “I’ll wait until you get approval from your father.”

She was in.

Erin knew before Zane could say the first word to his father. Because Zane’s dad, Michael McCall, was the real reason she was going to the Double M. Zane’s father was her client.

He spotted his blackmailer in Buckley’s Feed and Seed, and a black pit of loathing gnawed his gut. He didn’t want to call attention to himself and to have to face the threats the blackmailer was sure to make again. Though his business at the Feed and Seed wasn’t done, he’d much rather make a second trip into town than linger here and deal with another confrontation.

Moving carefully toward the exit, he lost sight of the blackmailer as he edged past a tall display of winter clothes set up to look like a Christmas tree. The exit was in sight. If he could cross the open area just inside the door, near the checkout counter without being seen...

He paused at the end of the aisle with hardware supplies, peering cautiously around the rack of axes and sledgehammers. The coast appeared clear. He took his opportunity and started quickly and quietly toward the front door.

“Leaving so soon?” The voice sent a curl of acid and frustration through him.

He sensed more than saw the source of the voice edging into his path, blocking the exit. He raised his head, nudging back the brim of his hat, to meet the leering expression on his tormenter’s face.

“What do you want?” he growled.

“I think you know damn well what I want.” The reply was hushed. Clearly the blackmailer didn’t want to draw attention any more than he did. Could he use that to his advantage?

“Step aside,” he said. “This isn’t the time or place.”

“Agreed. So meet me in the restroom. Two minutes.”

No. Go to hell, you and your threats. I’m done with you. Dear God, how he wanted to say as much to the source of his anxiety and grief for the past several months. But too much hung in the balance. The blackmailer knew it, too, and gloated over the power, the ability to destroy his life, if he didn’t do what was asked.

His enemy stepped away and disappeared down an aisle of nuts and screws. Appropriate, he thought with a derisive snort, since he was putting the screws to him. He thought of leaving, of ignoring the demand for a confrontation. But how could he risk incurring the wrath of his foe? One wrong step could trigger all the threatened repercussions to come down on him like a crapstorm. Worse, the blowback could hurt his family. His family was all he had, and he wouldn’t risk them to save himself.

Gritting his teeth, he made his way to the back of the store. He killed a minute gathering himself as he feigned interest in the bridles and bits displayed on the back wall. Then he stepped inside the unisex restroom in the rear hall. His tormentor was waiting for him.

“I’m tired of waiting.” No preamble or preliminaries. Straight to the point. “The herd doesn’t make it to auction. Understood? Enough with the piddling stabs and pokes meant to slow them down. I want you to slash the throat of the operation. A fatal blow. Now. This year’s herd.”

He’d been afraid that it would come to this. Bile rose, nearly gagging him. “How? Something that big won’t look like an accident.”

“That’s your problem. Just finish them! If the herd makes it to auction, they’ll skim by for another year. I’m not waiting another year to get my revenge.”

“But I—”

“No excuses. Either the ranch goes down or you do.”

He had to brace himself on the dirty sink as a wave of dread stampeded him.

His blackmailer put one hand on the doorknob and paused long enough to deliver a parting shot. “No more stalling. One way or another, I want the Double M to die!”




Chapter 2 (#ud0e994ef-21a1-51ef-8250-3ad136980580)


Zane studied the spreadsheet his sister, Piper, had prepared with the previous month’s expenses, and frowned. “Are you sure this is right?”

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.”

“Fine,” Brady replied grudgingly, and he handed off the glass balls he’d gathered to Dave. “Okay, Santa Claus. I’m out. You have the conn.”

Dave responded with a snort and an eye-roll that made Erin chuckle. He repositioned the ladder, which rattled and creaked as he settled it closer to the tree.

“I can’t wait to see it all decorated and the lights glowing.” She turned to Zane, her face lit with enthusiasm, her cheeks and nose pink from the cold. “I love Christmas. Even more than spring. And my birthday’s in spring, so that’s saying something, because I really love celebrating my birthday.”

His chest tightened as he gazed at her. Her eyes reflected a childlike glee that reminded him of Christmases past, rising before the sun with his brother and sister, filled with exuberance and anticipation. As she stood in the winter sun, gazing up at the spruce tree, her breath clouding in the chilled air, Zane finished his earlier interrupted thought. Spruce green. Erin’s eyes were the same color as a Christmas tree, he decided as a he felt a small hiccup in his pulse.

He gave himself a mental finger-thump to the forehead. Don’t go all hearts and flowers over her in the first five minutes, dork. Such an impetuous reaction to a woman was more his flirtatious brother’s style than his own. Zane preferred time to build an opinion based on his interaction with a person.

Pragmatic. Reasoned. Grounded. He prided himself on being everything an oldest sibling should be, even if his age advantage was only five minutes. So why did Erin evoke such a visceral reaction from him?

He cleared his throat and tipped his head toward the guesthouse. “I’ll just put your luggage inside. Then, whenever you’re ready, I can—”

A loud snap crackled through the winter air like a gunshot. In the next instant, the tall step ladder where Dave perched buckled and collapsed. He toppled to the ground, landing with a thud and a feral cry of pain.




Chapter 3 (#ud0e994ef-21a1-51ef-8250-3ad136980580)


Erin gasped her shock and concern as the handsome ranch hand crashed to the frozen ground. If his guttural shout left any doubt to his injury, the odd angle of his leg did not.

She clapped a hand over her mouth as a wave of nausea roiled through her at the gruesome sight. Zane abandoned her bags and brushed past her as he rushed to aid his friend.

“Call 9-1-1!” he yelled to no one in particular.

Pulling her glove off with her teeth, Erin fumbled her cell phone from her purse and tapped in her security code with a trembling finger. She squinted at the screen, trying to make out the image against the glare of the winter sun. Her signal reception was weak at best.

Josh hustled past her. “Landline’s more reliable. I’m on it.”

As Zane’s brother ran toward the main house, Erin faced Zane and Dave again, her heart in her throat. Surely she could do something to help. Yanking her knit scarf from under the collar of her coat, she balled the scarf as she dropped to her knees across from Zane. “Here,” she said, handing him the messily folded neckwear. “Put this under his head.”

A pillow may be a small thing under the circumstances, but she had little else to offer at the moment. And standing idly by while the cowboy suffered was not her style. Action was her go-to mode, and her brain was ticking through more options for the crisis, even as Zane tucked the knit scarf under Dave’s head.

As if sensing something was amiss, the dogs barked and paced the yard. When the black-and-white dog tried to nose in next to him, Zane pushed the dog back. “No, Ace. Lie down.”

The foreman and Brady appeared at the door of the barn across the yard.

“What happened?” Brady called as he trotted toward them.

“Ladder collapsed. Dave broke his leg, maybe more,” Zane returned in a clipped, efficient tone, despite his obvious worry. With a wave of his hand, he directed the father and son to, respectively, fetch someone named Helen and to go to the end of the driveway to flag down the ambulance when it arrived.

Zane’s take-charge leadership impressed Erin, as well as the way that the other men followed his directives without demurring. Zane’s father had indicated as much, as well. Though the McCall siblings and Brady Summers were equal partners in McCall Adventure Ranch, Zane was the gatekeeper, it seemed.

Zane held one of the injured man’s hands, letting Dave squeeze his fingers as he writhed and groaned. “Stay still, buddy. I know it hurts. Help’s coming.”

Seeing Dave’s other hand at his side, his fingers clenched in a tight ball, Erin lifted his fist into her lap. Cupping his fist between her palms, she stroked his taut knuckles with her thumb and muttered, “Hang in there, cowboy.”

Zane’s gaze darted to her, then dropped to her comforting gesture as Dave loosened his balled fingers to grip her hand.

“Thanks,” Dave rasped, casting a quick side glance to her before scrunching his eyes closed in pain. His breathing was shallow and rapid, and she didn’t need to be a nurse to know hyperventilating was not what Dave needed.

“Hey, Dave,” she said, jostling his hand to get his attention. “Will you try something with me?”

Both Zane and Dave peered at her with curious looks.

“You need to calm your breathing, so I thought we could do some yoga breathing together. Will you do it with me?”

The injured cowboy furrowed his brow and stared at her with shock in his eyes. “Yoga?”

Though Zane’s expression was equally leery, she could see his concern for his friend outweighed his skepticism. “What do you have in mind?”

She fixed her gaze on Zane and his stunning blue eyes sent a tremor through her. With her host’s penetrating gaze on her, she needed the relaxation technique as much as Dave. “Calming breaths. You do it with us.”

Dave scoffed quietly between gasps and grunts.

Patting his hand firmly, she directed him to inhale with her as she counted two beats in her head. “Now exhale slowly for four seconds.”

The cowboys both blew their breaths out through their mouths.

“Through your nose, gentlemen. You’re not having a baby, you’re trying to relax.”

Her comment earned her odd looks from both men, but they followed her example as she inhaled again and let her exhale draw out twice as long. “Now inhale for three seconds and exhale for six.”

Dave’s demeanor calmed, his hyperventilating quieted, and Erin’s pulse slowed, too...so long as she didn’t look into Zane’s piercing eyes. Meeting his celestial-blue gaze was a bit like staring at the sun. Doing so for too long was risky, as if he could sear something deep inside her with his laser-bright stare.

She continued walking them through the one-to-two breathing ratio for a couple of minutes until Josh ran back across the ranch yard and skidded to a stop beside them.

“Ambulance is on the way,” Josh said as he spread a heavy blanket that he’d brought out over Dave. Josh was panting from exertion and stress, and his tense energy and ragged breaths distracted her students.

Erin felt the tension reenter Dave’s grip as his eyes darted to Josh, and she saw the muscles in the injured man’s jaw flex as he gritted his teeth. She snapped her fingers in front of Dave’s eyes and, with a nudge of his chin, brought his attention back to her. “Right here, cowboy. Focus on me.”

He gave her a pained grin and rasped, “My pleasure. You’re a...heap prettier than either of these...chumps.”

“Thank you. Now, less talking and more slow breathing, friend.” She flashed him a bright smile, and from her peripheral vision, she noticed the frown that Zane divided between them.

Dave followed her directions for a couple more breaths, then with another thin grin that reflected his agony, he added hoarsely, “Any chance I could...repay you for your kindness?” He paused to drag in another breath. “Dinner sometime maybe?”

Now Zane’s whole body tensed, his brow forming a deep V as he sent the hand a hard look.

“Why, you flirt!” She sent the injured man a wink. Anything that helped distract him from his pain was acceptable in her book. “I just might have to take you up on that.”

“What about Helen?” Josh said, and Zane arched a raven eyebrow and cocked his head as if to say, Yeah, what he asked.

“Helen?” She gave him a scolding pout.

The ranch hand grimaced, clearly from his excruciating pain rather than the shame of being caught out. He gulped a couple shallow breaths. “It wouldn’t be...a date, so what’s...wrong with it?”

She gave him a disapproving grunt, then tapped his nose with her finger. “Through your nose. Let’s start again. Three-second inhale...”

Her coaching was interrupted again as a woman’s distress cry reached them through the chill air. Erin and the men all turned to look toward the back of the main house where the foreman appeared with a young woman wearing a stained apron and no coat. She ran toward them, calling, “Dave! Oh, my God, Dave!”

Erin scooted aside to allow the sobbing woman access to the ranch hand, though she hated the fact that the woman was clearly upsetting Dave again. She glanced at Zane, meaning to send him a silent message with her facial expression.

As if sensing her attention, Zane raised his head, his gaze clashing with hers. She indicated her concern over the woman’s effect on the patient with a twitch of her brow and quick side glance. Zane gave her the merest of nods, then put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Helen, calm down. Help is coming. Right now, we have to keep him comfortable and breathing deeply.”

“Dave,” Erin said, gaining the hand’s attention again. “With me. Inhale...” She demonstrated the technique again while Helen watched. “Can you keep him going?” she asked Helen and the young woman nodded, though her eyes spoke for her distress. Then to Dave, Erin said, “No hyperventilating, cowboy. Concentrate on your breathing.”

Dave gave a nod, his jaw clenched and his complexion a worrisome gray.

Having passed the distraction and deep breathing reins to Helen, Erin pushed to her feet and backed away from the huddle of bodies around Dave. She considered taking her luggage inside, but since she’d not yet officially been shown in to her accommodations at the guesthouse, that seemed presumptuous.

Besides, her curiosity was sparking.

The ranch has had a string of incidents, with evidence of sabotage that have hamstrung our operations, crippled us financially.

Her client’s words replayed in her head and his word choice stirred a disquiet in her gut as she glanced back at Dave. Though Josh’s back currently blocked her view of the ranch hand’s broken leg, the grisly image of Dave’s twisted shin was burned on her brain.

With a furtive glance toward the ranchers, she sidled over to the collapsed stepladder and studied the rails, the spreader, the bolts. What had happened to the ladder? A simple slip by the hand or something more sinister? She toed a bent piece of aluminum and searched the ground for the screws that should have attached the loose support bar to the legs of the ladder. Casting her gaze around her feet, she searched the ground for the failed bit of hardware. Finding a rusted screw lying in two pieces beneath the branches of the spruce tree, she stooped to gather the bits. Then hesitated.

If this did prove to be sabotage and not just the failure of an ancient screw, she should leave the evidence untainted for the police. She straightened and backed away from the ladder, but slid her phone back out of her pocket.

With another glance behind her to make sure her actions were not being watched, she quickly snapped a few pictures of the fallen ladder and the rusty pieces of the broken screw. Repocketing her phone, she edged back toward the injured cowboy, making mental notes about who was present and their reactions to the incident. She would be having a private meeting with her client tonight, and she already had something to report.

Seeing that she’d left the cluster, Zane stood and approached her.

“Hardly the welcome to the ranch I’d have planned.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and drew his mouth into a grim line.

“And not one I’d have expected. I’m sure this isn’t the kind of excitement McCall Adventure Ranch had in mind for customers.” She placed a hand over her chest. “My heart is still thumping.” And it bumped even harder when Zane stepped closer, his gaze intense.

“Thank you for your help. I’m not sure I’d have known what to do if he’d passed out or...” He waved a hand, his thought unfinished as he cut a glance back toward the injured man. A frown dented his brow and he started unbuttoning his coat. He shrugged out of the fleece-lined jacket and walked over to drape it around Helen’s shoulders. Helen turned a pixie-like, tearstained face up to his and gave him a brief smile of thanks. Zane’s gentlemanly gesture touched Erin.

“So chivalry isn’t dead,” she said to him as he returned.

He gave her a brief puzzled look, then shrugged his actions off. “She needed a coat. I gave her mine. No biggie.”

But to Erin his thoughtfulness was telling, as was his modesty. She’d learned through her work, through her life-changing moments, that people can say who they are until they are blue in the face. But actions were the real evidence of character. This was why she typically avoided pre-researching people. She didn’t want preconceived notions to jade her observations of people in action. Body language. How they reacted to questions and events...

Zane divided a concerned look between her and the fallen hand. Clearly he was torn between his duty as host and his friend’s well-being. Rubbing his hands on his jeans, he started toward her suitcases. “Anyway...let me get you settled—”

The distant wail of a siren reached them, yanking his attention toward the highway and the Double M’s long gravel driveway.

She put a hand on his arm. “You go meet the ambulance. I can see myself in.”

“I—”

“Zane.” She squeezed harder on his wrist and could feel the steady thump of his pulse under her fingers. A jolt of something hot and unnerving skittered from his skin through her fingers and throughout her body when his eyes connected with hers. She’d have to get over her unsettling fascination with his breathtaking eyes if she was going to keep her head as she worked with him in the coming days. She paused a beat, regaining her composure, before she slanted a half grin toward him and bent to gather her luggage for herself. “Go on. I’ve got this.”

She turned and headed for the guesthouse door.

“Erin.” The sexy timbre of his voice slid over her like a lover’s caress. She stopped. Faced him, trying to pretend his voice didn’t weaken her knees.

He reached into his pocket, then extended his hand to her. As he walked closer, gravel and ice crunched under his boots. “You’ll need this.”

A silver key winked in the sunlight at her. “Oh,” she muttered as she lifted it from his callused palm. “Thanks.” The metal was still warm from being nestled in his pocket near his body heat.

He ducked his head in a nod, and the corner of his mouth tugged in a strained smile. “Let me know if I can do anything to help you get settled.”

With an appreciative nod, Erin let herself in the guesthouse and left her bags in the first bedroom down the hall. Moving to the front window, she parted the curtains, allowing her to keep watch for the arrival of the emergency vehicles. Would the police come? Or was the incident being viewed as accidental by the ranch staff?

If she made too much of an issue about the broken ladder, she’d call unwanted attention to herself, raise questions. Instead she pulled out her phone and texted her client, Zane’s father. He needed to know what had happened and that she advised he have the police look at the scene before it was disturbed. Within seconds of her text, her phone chimed with Michael McCall’s reply that he was on his way to the scene.

Erin pocketed her phone and returned to her suitcases to hang up a few clothes, set out her toiletries and plug her laptop in to charge, all the while wishing she were still out in the yard helping, observing. She needed to maintain her cover, but for such a tragic incident to happen within minutes of her arrival...

She just couldn’t believe it was coincidence. Her gut told her it was no accident. She thought hard about exactly what had happened prior to the ladder collapse. Who had been present? What had transpired? She’d met Brady Summers, Zane’s brother-in-law. And the foreman, also last name Summers. Some relation to Brady? Zane hadn’t said, but she’d wager so. Hadn’t he called Brady “son” when he’d requested his help with the sick calf?

She replayed that scene in her mind’s eye. Brady had put off the foreman at first. That would indicate no preconception about the state of the ladder. And Dave had climbed right on. To his detriment. Josh and Zane had been involved with greeting her. She couldn’t fairly make an assessment there. Had she not arrived when she did, would one of them have been climbing the faulty ladder? And was all this speculation just that? Seeing trouble and misconduct where none existed? The ladder was clearly old. Rusted in more places than the screws. Maybe the worn-out equipment was just an accident waiting to happen and Dave had drawn the short straw.

The wail of approaching emergency vehicles and rumble of engines drew her back to the window. An older man with black hair like Zane’s had joined the men standing around Dave. Michael McCall? As the vehicles pulled up, the older man walked over to an attractive brown-haired woman of approximately the same age and wrapped her in a comforting hug. Zane’s mother?

Erin didn’t linger in the guesthouse any longer. While getting in the way during an emergency would be bad form for a visiting travel writer, she really wanted to have a firsthand, up-close view of the proceedings. A sheriff’s department SUV was among the arriving vehicles, and she really wanted to observe the handling of the incident, since Michael’s chief reason for hiring her was his discontent with the way the local law enforcement had essentially shrugged off previous incidents of vandalism on the ranch. Or so Michael felt. Maybe there had truly been little the sheriff could do, too little evidence to make an arrest. Michael didn’t buy that reasoning and that scenario seemed sketchy to Erin, as well. How hard had they tried to find the person sabotaging the Double M?

Snagging her coat off the back of the communal area’s couch where she’d discarded it minutes ago, Erin headed back outside. She kept to the perimeter of the gathered crowd, edging closer to the site of the broken ladder.

Initial efforts of the first responders were, understandably, getting Dave stabilized and into the ambulance. Zane approached one of the sheriff’s deputies and pointed to the fallen ladder, spread his hands, shook his head. Oh, to be a fly on the...deputy’s hat?

Erin rolled her eyes at her broken idiom and noticed presumably Michael break away from presumably his wife to join Zane’s conversation with the deputy. Michael’s jaw was taut. When the deputy said something with a lift of his shoulder, Michael’s eyes hardened, and he made an angry gesture toward the rubble of the ladder.

Zane placed a hand on presumably his father’s shoulder and said something that was answered with a head shake and grim, tight-lipped expression from the older man. The older woman joined them and apparently encouraged Michael to step aside. “Let Zane handle it, honey,” Erin overheard the woman say, then garbled words and “...your blood pressure.”

She read on his lips the curse word that Michael loosed as Zane and the deputy stepped aside and his wife guided him away. As the older couple stepped to the edge of the crowd, Michael’s gaze drifted to Erin and stopped. He tensed, then softened his facial expression and gave her a tiny nod of acknowledgment. His wife noticed, and Erin saw the woman’s lips say, Who’s that?

Michael turned toward his wife to reply, and whatever he said had the woman towing him over to Erin, a warm smile of greeting on her lips. “Are you Erin Palmer, the writer?”

Erin stuck out her hand to the woman. “I am.”

“Melissa and Michael McCall. So nice to meet you.” Rather than shake her hand, Melissa folded Erin’s hand between her gloved palms and squeezed. “I’m so sorry that your welcome has been spoiled by this terrible accident.”

“No apologies, please. I’m just so sorry this happened. How is Dave?”

“Shocky,” Michael said, offering his hand.

Melissa dropped Erin’s fingers so that she could greet the patriarch of the family.

“But the EMT assures us he’ll be fine.” Erin gave the older man’s hand a firm shake as he continued. “Glad to meet you, Ms. Palmer. Zane says you were quite helpful in calming the patient earlier. Some sort of yoga breathing?”

She shrugged. “Mostly common sense. He needed not to hyperventilate, which was where he was headed, so I got him to refocus his thoughts and breathe deeper.”

“Don’t be modest, dear. That was a good thing you did. We thank you. Dave is like family to us.” Melissa patted Erin’s sleeve, and the maternal gesture flowed through Erin like warm honey. She immediately liked the woman, whose kind eyes and generous smile spoke of a gentle soul.

“Melissa and Michael McCall...” she said, tipping her head with a grin tugging her lips. “How very alliterative.”

Melissa chuckled. “Says the writer. Yes, we have plenty of Ms around here. That’s where the Double M got its name.”

Erin furrowed her forehead. “I thought the ranch had been in the family for several generations.”

Melissa gave a startled laugh. “Someone has been doing her research!” She sent her husband an impressed look before returning her gaze to Erin. When the mostly gray blue heeler nuzzled her hand, Melissa bent to stroke the dog’s head and scratch his ears. “The ranch was my family’s for close to fifty years before I inherited it when my father died. We renamed it the Double M at that time because I wanted Michael to feel he was included, that he belonged, that the ranch was truly his as much as mine.”

Michael jerked his head toward Melissa. “What? You told me you wanted to change the name because Rocking X sounded like a porn palace.”

Erin snorted a laugh and quickly covered her mouth to muffle her mirth.

“It did sound like a porn palace or house of ill repute!” Melissa fussed. “My mother thought so, too. It needed to change. And the Double M achieved both dignity and a sense of inclusion for you. Win-win.”

Michael touched his wife’s cheek. “Well done, love.” He gave her a peck on the lips. “Thank you.”

The clack of metal stretcher legs folding called their attention to the back of the ambulance. Dave was loaded in the patient bay, and Zane had to retrieve one of the dogs when it tried to jump into the ambulance with the stretcher.

Helen clambered in next to Dave before the back doors were slammed shut.

“Lord, take care of him. Give them both strength and peace,” Melissa said under her breath, then raised a worried look to her husband.

“Why don’t you follow the ambulance to the hospital?” Michael said quietly to his wife. “I’ll join you shortly, but I want to stay here as long as the sheriff is on the premises.”

Melissa gave him a long, anxious stare. “Will you behave? Let your sons talk to the deputies? I don’t need another emergency because your blood pressure spiked.”

The reminder of his medical condition clearly irritated the ranch owner, but he sighed, nodded. “I’ll be careful.”

“Thank you.” Melissa rose on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek before heading across the ranch yard calling, “I’m going to the hospital. Roy? Josh? Anyone want to ride with me?”

Michael shifted his body so that his back was to the rest of the people in the yard. “You saw the accident happen?”

“Sort of,” Erin said, matching his lowered volume. “I was talking to Zane at the time, and suddenly the ladder collapsed, and Dave was on the ground.”

“And you suspect foul play?” Michael lifted an eyebrow.

Erin shook her head. “Not necessarily. I just thought it wise for the police to photograph the scene, treat it as sabotage for the time being. Just in case. Considering the history of incidents here, it would be prudent.”

“I agree. Unfortunately, the deputy I talked to is not so convinced. I tried to argue the point and was sidelined by my family because I had a cardiac event a few years ago and am at risk of another because of my blood pressure.” He grumbled something under his breath, then said, “The best thing for my blood pressure would be to see this menace hanging over us solved, and the ranch put back on a profitable trajectory.”

“I’d like to go observe,” Erin said, casting a glance behind her client and seeing the deputies milling about the ladder debris. “We’ll talk later.” She offered her hand and said in a louder voice, “It was nice to meet you, Michael. Thank you for hosting me.”

He jerked a nod and stepped aside, and Erin eased closer to the area where the deputy was nudging the parts of the broken ladder with his toe.

“Um,” she said and cleared her throat, “aren’t you going to photograph the scene before you move pieces?”

The deputy raised his head and eyed her. “We only do that at crime scenes, ma’am. No evidence of a crime here.”

“And how do you know there was no crime if you don’t examine the broken parts and try to determine what happened?”

The deputy tucked his thumbs in his utility belt, puffed his chest out and narrowed a glare on Erin. “And who are you?”

“Guest of the ranch. Concerned citizen. Witness to the accident. Take your pick.” She tipped her head. “I’m available now if you are planning to interview the witnesses.”

“Again, no need. No crime to investigate.” He took a step toward her. “Unless you know something about what happened that you’d like to share. You have a reason to believe this was more than an accident?”

She flipped up a gloved palm. “Context. Past incidents of vandalism here. And, in my experience, ladders don’t typically just fall apart.”

The deputy bent to pick up the bits of the rusty screw she’d found earlier. “They do when the hardware holding ’em together rusts out this much. The ladder was old. Worn out. I don’t see enough here to warrant an investigation.”

She held the deputy’s stare. The hard slash of his mouth said clearly he was miffed that she’d questioned his professional judgment, but she didn’t back down. She was no stranger to crimes being brushed under a rug, investigations neglected because of political agendas and the influence of money.

She heard the crunch of boots on slush but didn’t take her eyes from the deputy.

“Is there a problem here?” Zane said, stepping up beside her and dividing a glance between her and the deputy.

“I was just offering to tell Deputy—” she shifted her gaze briefly to the man’s name tag “—Morton what happened. What I saw. But he indicated he wouldn’t be conducting interviews or investigating the cause of the accident, seeing that he has no reason to believe anything untoward happened here.” She didn’t try to hide her sarcasm, and she earned a scowl from the deputy and a puzzled look from Zane.

Morton cast a disgruntled look at Zane before returning his dark glare to her. “Thank you for your concern, ma’am,” he said tightly, his expression flinty. “I’ll be sure to contact you if we have any questions for you later. Good day.” He turned sharply on his heel and stalked away.

Zane watched the officer go for a moment before facing her with a crease in his brow. “What did I miss?”

“I was just expressing my concern to the deputy that they weren’t doing a more thorough investigation of what happened here.” She motioned to the broken ladder, then rolled her shoulders, releasing some of the tension that had knotted there as she’d confronted the deputy.

“I see.” His lips pressed into a thin line, and he glanced toward the departing squad car. “As I said earlier, I appreciate your help with calming Dave. But if I may be blunt, Ms. Palmer...”

His return to her surname told her all she needed to know about his mood, his opinion of her conversation with the deputy.

“The incident is not your concern, and I would ask that you not interfere. Our family needs to maintain a good working relationship with the sheriff’s department. We have other issues pending with them, and it would be counterproductive to antagonize Deputy Morton or any of the other officers.”

“Even if they aren’t doing their job?” she countered, belatedly realizing that she should have stifled her knee-jerk reaction.

“Not your business,” he repeated calmly, though she could see the tick of the pulse in his throat and the twitch of muscles in his jaw.

She blew out a cleansing breath and gave him a nod. If she wanted to do her job properly, she had to try to maintain objectivity and not let her hot-button issues color the facts. She’d only just arrived, and she had far too much fact-gathering and observing left to do. Getting on Zane’s wrong side would be a mistake.




Chapter 4 (#ud0e994ef-21a1-51ef-8250-3ad136980580)


Later that day, just before dark, Erin knocked on the front door of the main ranch house, a notepad tucked under her arm. The door was answered by a pretty young woman with dark hair and a tall, willowy figure. Her gray eyes were bracketed with tiny creases that reflected the strain and concern for Dave that hung over the ranch.

“Hi,” Erin said, offering her hand to the woman, “I’m Erin Palmer.”

Although the brunette shook her hand, her expression remained puzzled. “Piper. Nice to meet you.”

Piper. Erin mentally reviewed the names her client had given her about the ranch staff and family members. Piper was Michael McCall’s daughter. Zane’s sister. Right... She could see the resemblance in the young woman’s pretty face.

Piper bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry. Am I supposed to know you? Did you have an appointment?”

“Uh, Zane didn’t tell you about me?”

Zane’s sister twisted her mouth in thought. “Not that I recall.”

“Well, with all the confusion this morning because of Dave’s accident, I guess he—”

“You know about that?” Piper blinked her surprised.

“Yeah. It all happened just minutes after I arrived.”

Piper caught her breath and smacked her forehead with the heel of her palm. “The writer! Of course. I’m sorry.” She opened the door wider and stood back. “Come in, please. I’ve been so flustered since I heard Dave got hurt, I totally forgot about your visit.”

“How is Dave doing?” Erin asked as she slipped off her coat.

Piper took the winter wrap from her. “Stable. It was a bad break. Both bones in his lower leg. He’s just come out of surgery to put in a metal rod to stabilize the leg.”

Erin winced. “Wow. I’m so sorry.” She cast a quick glance around. “So...is Zane around?”

“Oh...sure. I think he’s back in the office. Let me go ask him if he’s available to speak with you.”

While she waited in the foyer for Piper to return, Erin noticed a small black cat with a white bib and white toes peek around the corner from the next room. “Hello there.” She squatted and held out her hand. The cat crept forward to sniff her fingers, but when she tried to pat the feline, it shrank away from her touch. “I won’t hurt you.” She tried again to pat the shy kitty, but it turned and trotted away.

The thud of boots on the hardwood floor announced Zane before he appeared in the front hall. “Hi. Piper said you needed to see me.”

She stood and greeted him with a smile. “If you have a few minutes, I thought we could start on the article. I’d like to talk to you and anyone else that’s available.”

Piper reappeared beside her brother. “I’m free now. I just need to check that Connor’s doing his homework like he’s supposed to be.”

“Great! Can we meet in your office?” she asked, glancing at Zane.

He spread his hands, palms up. “Why not? I’ll rustle Josh up, and then you’ll have three of the four investors in the adventure company.”

Erin dipped her chin in agreement. “Perfect.”

“Back in five,” Piper said, heading out the front door.

When she glanced from the door to Zane with a confused look and a question on the tip of her tongue, he preempted her query saying, “She lives in the foreman’s house across the way. She married Brady this summer. Connor is their son.”

“Got it.” She flipped open her notebook and clicked her pen open to jot down the relationships and connections as she followed Zane down the hall to a small room that was likely once a bedroom but now housed a desk, bookshelves, printer stand and...a sawhorse with a well-worn saddle.

Erin pulled up short when she saw the sawhorse, and her face must have expressed her surprise because, again, Zane foresaw her question and offered, “I’ll be working on it later, oiling the leather and fixing a broken buckle. I try to keep something in here that I can work on during downtime with the paperwork. Saves time trekking back and forth to the stable or barn, and I don’t feel like I’m ignoring my ranching responsibilities this way.”

“Very efficient.”

“Well, it’s not much. And I do still pull my weight with the herd and tending the horses. This just keeps me busy in stolen minutes throughout the day and at night.”

“No rest for the weary?” She sent him a half grin as she settled in a chair in front of the desk.

“No rest for the shorthanded and trying to stay financially afloat,” he replied as he tapped his phone screen without looking at her. He laid the phone on the desk next to neat piles of paperwork. “You get settled in all right?”

“I did. Thanks.”

“Good.” His phone buzzed, and he lifted it again to check the screen. “Josh will be here in a minute. But before my brother and sister join us, I want to apologize if I sounded...curt earlier.” He dragged a hand down his clean-shaven cheek and sighed. “I was upset about Dave, trying to deal with the uneasiness between the sheriff’s department and my father, run point on the situation with the EMS and...” He exhaled through pursed lips, making an exasperated sputtering noise, then shrugged. “Losing another hand was the last thing we needed. And with us in the middle of roundup, about to head to market.”

The last thing they needed... Erin’s thoughts spun. Losing Dave just as the family was about to realize their profits for the season...

Certainly the hand’s injury put a crimp in the family’s ability to get the work done on schedule. Could this explain the why of the damaged ladder? Assuming it was purposely damaged and not simply an accident as the majority of the ranch seemed to believe. In light of the upcoming auction, would they hire a new hand? Even a temporary worker to help get the cattle to market would be better than nothing.

She furrowed her brow and picked at the seam along the knee of her jeans as she ruminated on that possibility. When she raised her gaze, she found Zane watching her with a peculiar look on his face. Quickly she schooled her face and backtracked mentally to where she’d allowed their conversation to drop.

“Oh, uh, apology accepted,” she said with an awkward smile.

His hands rested on the desk, and he tapped his thumb restlessly. “Where did you go just then? You were frowning.”

“Just remembering the accident. Dave’s leg...” Her stomach recoiled at the memory.

Piper entered the office and took the second chair that sat at an angle facing Zane’s desk. “Okay, the kiddo is squared away.”

“How old is your son?” Erin asked.

“Eight going on thirty-eight. He doesn’t see the need for learning addition and subtraction in order to help run the ranch someday.” Piper rolled her eyes.

Zane snorted, and one of his cheeks twitched with humor.

“You rang?” Josh said as he sauntered in and swept his gaze around the room. “Wow. Is this an official parley? Something up?”

Erin smiled at the third sibling of the McCall triplets. “Nothing formal. I just wanted to get to know you all and begin planning my research for my...article.” She swallowed and squeezed the arm of her chair. She’d almost said investigation. Her near slip was an unpleasant reminder of the ruse she was operating under.

“So I suppose, since I have the owners of McCall Adventures here—” she made a vague gesture to the three siblings with her hand “—this would be a good time to talk about the company, where it stands and...what happened a few months ago to stall the opening?”

Both Piper and Zane cast looks to Josh, whose chipper expression darkened at her mention of the zip line sabotage. Though she had an encapsulated version of the story from the triplets’ father, she was interested to see how the siblings viewed the incident.

“Well,” Piper started, “first, let me say that my husband, Brady, is actually an equal partner in McCall Adventures.”

“Oh, right. Of course,” She jotted a note on her notepad. “Should we invite him to join us?”

“He’s not really available. He’s helping Connor with his homework. Have you met Brady?” Piper asked.

Erin nodded. “I think so. This morning, right before...well...” She let her words tail off when Piper’s face fell, clearly distressed by the reminder of the morning’s accident.

“I can tell Brady you want to talk with him later, if you want.” Piper tucked a wisp of her dark brown hair behind her ear.

“Thanks,” Erin said, nodding. “I’d like to talk to everyone on the ranch at some point.” She tapped her pad with her pen and shifted her gaze to Josh. “So the zip line?”

Zane cleared his throat. “Is it really necessary to bring that up? We’ve moved on from the trouble this spring and are ensuring every possible safety precaution is in place as we go forward.”

She made a mental note of Zane’s reaction to reviewing the zip line sabotage. Defensive? Protective of the business or of some other secret he wants to hide?

“That’s good,” she said. “And I do plan to focus on the future of the business primarily, but...I think it’s important for me to have a full picture of what happened, how it impacted the people involved and the business itself—such as the finances of the company—in order to put the journey forward in perspective.”

“I’ll tell you how it impacted me,” Josh volunteered, shifting his weight and poking his thumbs in his pockets. “And I was the one closest to the incident.”

Zane pulled a face as he shot his brother a look that said he wasn’t happy with Josh’s willingness to discuss the recent trouble.

But why? What was it about the past vandalism the family experienced that had Zane’s guard up? Was he just wary in the same way Michael was being cautious by asking her not to reveal her true purpose to anyone?

For his part, Josh returned an even look and said, “Chill, man. It’s all good.” Facing Erin, he flashed a cocky smile. “The woman on the zip line when it fell is not only safe and sound, she is preparing for our wedding in three weeks.”

Josh’s happiness glowed from his eyes as brightly as his smile.

“Mazel tov! Congrats!” Erin already heard about the upcoming nuptials for Josh and his intended from Michael, but seeing the groom’s joy warmed her inside. Her heart also gave a slow drub of envy. Would she ever find someone who filled her with that from-the-soul glow of happiness?

“Yeah, as much as I like Kate, I have to wonder about her sanity, hooking her wagon to this doofus,” Piper said with a teasing smile and pure affection for her brother in the wink she gave Josh.

“I still say it’s Stockholm syndrome. Josh had to have brainwashed her while they were alone those two days,” Zane added, lacing his fingers behind his head and leaning back in his deck chair.

“Hardy har har,” Josh returned wryly as he moved to the saddle Zane had set up on the sawhorse. While his siblings chuckled under their breaths, he swung his leg over the saddle and sat astride it, arms crossed over his chest, his expression as content and smug as a cat with a canary and a bowl of milk.

“I just oiled that,” Zane said.

“You did?” Josh asked, frowning as he stood and checked his clothes for stains.

Zane snorted dryly. “Made you look.”

Josh gave his brother’s shoulder a shove before he resettled on the saddle.

“Boys,” Piper said, rolling her eyes, “you’re wasting the nice lady’s time.”

Erin wanted to say that the interplay between family members and the ranch employees was exactly what she wanted to observe. She needed to get a sense of hidden tensions, jealousies or competition that could shape her investigation.

She honed in on an element of Zane’s jab at Josh. “You were alone with your fiancée for two days after the accident at the zip line?”

Josh nodded. “That’s right. Two crazy, drama-filled, brush-with-death days.” He curled up a corner of his mouth again, and his eyes—the same shade of startling blue as Zane’s—twinkled. “It was great,” he said without irony.

Erin was busy comparing how bright and full of life Josh’s countenance looked compared to Zane’s harsher, more serious expression, and she almost missed the seemingly contradictory postscript.

“Great?”

“Well, maybe not at the time. But in hindsight, I wouldn’t change any of it. Except the parts where Kate was in danger.” He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring and his brow creasing. “That part still gives me nightmares.”

“Understandable.” She paused, taking mental note of how each of the McCall triplets reacted to the mention of the danger Josh and Kate had experienced.

Piper watched her brother with a knitted brow and a tighter grip on the arm of her chair. Concern.

Zane gave his brother a look of disgust...or was it anger? She focused on him. “Zane, Josh’s experience seems to irritate you. Why?”

He jerked his gaze to her, clearly startled by her question. “What?”

“He’s still ticked off because I didn’t do what he wanted,” Josh said.

With a peevish side glance to his brother, Zane sat forward in his chair, propping his arms on the desk as he narrowed his eyes on Erin. “My brother has no one to blame for what happened after the zip line fell but himself.”

Josh groaned and shook his head.

“He took unnecessary risks, like he often does,” Zane continued, ignoring Josh’s noises of disagreement, “and put Kate in danger.”

“With a guarantee of the same end result, I’d do exactly the same again, too.”

Josh and Zane exchanged hard stares, as if challenging the other to be the first to blink.

Erin was following the tense standoff when she felt a hand on her arm. She turned to Piper, whose mouth was twisted in a lopsided moue. “That smell you smell,” she said, waving her hand as if stirring a scent in the air, “is testosterone and the reek of McCall stubbornness.” With a quick glance at her brothers, she added, “They actually do love each other. They’re best friends. Two peas in a pod.” She cleared her throat. “Right, guys?”

After a beat, Josh cut a side glance to Erin and cracked a grin. “It’s true. Zane and I are like this.” He held up crossed fingers. “But lately my twin has been in a perpetual bad mood.”

Zane made a rumbling noise in his throat and firmed his mouth as he broke his stare at his brother. “If you hadn’t noticed, our family’s legacy is about to go down the toilet. We’re under attack from some unknown vandal, and our planned adventure business nearly got someone killed. We’ll be lucky if we can find the cash to make repairs and reopen in the spring. I’d say I’ve got good reason to be in a bad mood.”

“Fa-la-la-la-la. La-la. La-la!” Josh sang, mocking his brother.

“It’s not a joke!” Zane groused. Then, as if remembering Erin was watching them, he jerked his gaze to hers and schooled his expression.

Interesting...

Erin took mental notes, not wanting the siblings to know their interaction was of key interest to her. She wanted them to be as natural as possible, not stifling reactions to put on a good face.

“This pessimistic version of you is getting old, Zane.” Piper tipped her head as she considered her brother. “We may have troubles, but we have plenty to be thankful for, too. Lots to be happy about. My reunion with Brady and Connor. Josh’s wedding plans. Roy’s sobriety. A roof over our heads. Christmas...”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zane said, shrugging a shoulder. “I just get the feeling sometimes that I’m the only one with my eye on the ball. We do have a business to run and financial issues to deal with. Not to mention this other unknown threat looming over us.” He sat taller in his chair and squared his shoulders as he centered his cerulean gaze on Erin. “But that’s not what you came to write about, nor is what we need to be talking about now. Am I right?”

Erin chewed the end of her pen. “Well, maybe not specifically. But getting the lay of the land, so to speak, will help fill in details for a richer story, one with heart and depth.”

“‘Heart and depth,’” Josh repeated, nodding approvingly. “There you go. I like that.”

At almost the same moment, pings and buzzes sounded in the office. The instant tension was palpable, and the siblings exchanged meaningful looks as they all pulled out their cell phones.

“Crap,” Zane and Josh said at the same time.

Erin’s gaze darted from one face to another.

“Hoo-boy,” their sister added.

While Piper’s and Josh’s faces reflected frustration and mild concern, Zane’s expression seemed almost...relieved. Curious.

Erin couldn’t wait to get back to the guesthouse and begin making notes on her observations. “What’s wrong?”

Josh swung his leg back over the saddle on the sawhorse. “Gotta go.”

Piper pushed to her feet. “Roy found a place where the fence is out and some of the herd got loose. Shorthanded as we are, it’s all hands on deck to get the strays rounded up and fix the fencing.” She shoved her phone in her back pocket and extended a hand to Erin. “Nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll talk again soon.”

Josh replaced his hat and nodded to her as he hurried out. “Sorry to have to bolt. Catch you later?”

“Sure.” Erin turned to Piper. “You’re going out to round up cows, too?”

Piper grinned. “I did in the old days, but now I’m headed back to the house to stay with Connor while my husband goes out in the pasture.”

Zane tapped a few keys on his computer, closing programs, and turned off his monitor. When he faced her, he turned up his palms and shrugged. “This is life on a ranch. We’re all on call 24/7.”

Erin stood and flipped her notepad closed. “Understood. No worries. We’ll continue this some other time.” She studied Zane as he stacked and straightened files on his desk, put away his pen and calculator in a drawer and pushed his chair under the desk. So orderly and neat. Her brother, Sean, an engineering student at the time of his death, had been the same way. She could still hear Sean saying, “A place for everything, and everything in its place.”

“Question?” she said as Zane took his gray cowboy hat from a hook made from bull horns by the office door.

“Okay.” He motioned with his hand for her to precede him out the door.

“When the call—or should I say the text?—came in just now about the trouble with the fence, I felt the mood shift in the room. Everyone tensed.”

He nodded, his expression flat. “For all of us to get a text at the same time is a bad sign. It means there’s trouble.” After a slight hesitation, he amended, “Usually.”

“I get that,” she said as they walked down the hall together. His broad shoulders filled the space between the walls where family pictures and shadow boxes with ribbons and medals had been hung. She wanted to spend more time in this hall with the old photos and awards, but Zane ushered her forward. “My question is this—when you read the text, instead of worry or frustration, like I saw on your siblings’ faces, you looked...relieved.”

Zane snapped his gaze toward her. “I did?”

“That’s how it seemed to me.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed as he stared at her. His brow furrowed, and his lips set in a taut line. While he was every bit as handsome as his twin, his more serious countenance and the lines of stress etched around his eyes made him appear older than his siblings.

“I suppose I was,” he said finally as he continued down the corridor. He sidetracked briefly to the foyer to retrieve Erin’s coat and hold it for her as she slipped her arms in the sleeves.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling and adding another mental tick mark in the “gentleman” column for Zane.

She followed him through the kitchen and into the mudroom where he paused to toe off his athletic shoes and jam his feet into a pair of well-worn boots, saying, “Considering everything that’s been happening around here lately, I guess I was glad the news wasn’t anything worse. Loose cows and a broken fence we can handle. It happens now and then. Nothing new.” He exhaled a sigh as they stepped out into the winter chill, and his breath clouded. “The news just as easily could have been another disaster because of our saboteur, or a problem with my dad’s health, or bad news from the hospital about Dave, or—”

She grabbed his arm, stopping his progress across the ranch yard. “First, have you ever heard the expression ‘borrowing trouble’?”

He nodded. “I know. It’s a bad habit...especially lately.” He dragged a hand down his face and gave her weak smile of chagrin.

A pang of sympathy prodded her chest, and she had to remind herself that her job required her to stay as unaffected emotionally as she could. She didn’t have a heart of stone, but to judge people fairly and accurately, she couldn’t let her personal feelings sway her perspective. “Second, where’s your coat?”

He hitched a thumb at one of the outbuildings. “I have a work coat in the stable.”

“Well.” She took a step backward and motioned toward the area where she saw Josh mounting his horse and riding out. “Don’t let me keep you.”

Touching the brim of his hat, he turned and took a couple steps before returning. “Erin?”

“Mmm-hmm?”

He screwed his mouth into a frown of consternation. “I don’t want the incident this morning or the tension you saw in my office earlier to affect your research.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Easy there, cowboy. That sounds a bit like you’re about to try to censor my work.”

His brow dented, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “That’s not what I meant. Although...ideally, I’d like your article not to be a laundry list of all the troubles we’ve had of late. That’d hardly be a sales pitch.”

“I told you before, and I’ll say it again, the integrity of my work requires no interference from the subject of my writing. My intent is not to sabotage your—” He flinched at her word choice. “Sorry. I’m not out to hurt your business. Trust me to do my job, okay?”

He hunched his shoulders against the cold as a chilly breeze buffeted them. A shiver sluiced through Erin, as well, but for a different reason. Every time she had to defend her work as a supposed journalist, she cringed internally. She could feel herself sinking deeper into a quagmire of deceit that dragged at her soul. Asking him to trust her, even as she led him to believe falsehoods about her, rankled.

He made a noncommittal sound in his throat. “What I meant was...I want you to have every opportunity to talk with the family, interview us, hear about our history, learn the business, get a close-up, inside view of the daily operations...despite the fact that we’ll be operating shorthanded. That, more than the troubling incidents that have put us on our heels, is what defines my family and this ranch.”

She raised her chin. “Oh,” she said awkwardly. She flashed him a lopsided smile. “Looks like I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have presumed...” She bit her bottom lip, letting her sentence trail off. Was she already letting herself be swayed by Zane’s serious disposition? Was she overcompensating because she found him so attractive and such an enigma at the same time?

The taut lines in his expression eased. “How about a mutual agreement to extend some trust, the benefit of the doubt?”

She released a deep breath, her grin warming. “Agreed.”

“In that spirit then...” He shivered visibly and jammed his hands deeper into his pockets. With the wind stirring, he had to be freezing. “How would you like to come with me and help round up escaped cattle?”

Erin gave a startled laugh. “Me?”

“It doesn’t get any realer than broken fences and rounding up a straying herd.”

She only hesitated a second before throwing her hands up with a snort of amusement. “Why not?”

“Good. This way.” He hitched his head toward the outbuilding where she’d seen Josh earlier. “You want a horse or an ATV?”

Falling in step beside him, she wrinkled her nose at his question. “An ATV? That’s not very Americana. Cowboys are supposed to ride horses.”

“It’s the new Americana. More efficient in many cases, and you don’t have to muck an ATV’s stall or pay for vet bills and feed. Every ranch I know is using some form of motorized vehicle these days.”

They reached the outbuilding, and as they stepped inside, the scent of manure and straw grew stronger. As her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light inside, she scanned the long aisle of stalls where a few horses hung their heads over their gates, snuffling and flicking their ears.

While Zane pulled on a coat he’d retrieved from a hook just inside the main door, she walked over to one of the horses and raised a hand to pat its nose. “Hi, beautiful. How are you?”

“So what do you think?” He eyed her as he buttoned the coat, which she saw was stained with Lord-only-knew-what, along with a liberal amount of dust and dried mud. No wonder he kept it in the stable.

“I’ll save the ATV for another day and try a horse...if that’s okay?”

He nodded and pursed his lips in thought. “I’d recommend Lucy for you. That’s who Kate rides.”

“Kate?” She flipped through her mental Rolodex, working to recall if she’d met Kate yet.

“Josh’s fiancée. She’s still learning to ride, and Lucy is one of our gentlest.” Zane had taken a saddle and reins from a rack and entered the first stall on the left. He stroked the neck of the large black horse in the stall, and the animal responded with a snuffle, nudging Zane with its nose. “Hey, Sarge. Time to work.”

Zane’s phone beeped, and he paused long enough to check it. Muttering a curse, he glanced back at Erin. “That was Roy. I need to hurry. The herd got spooked, and they need me ASAP. I really don’t have time to saddle Lucy for you. Rain check?”

Erin’s heart sank, but she tried to hide her disappointment. “Sure.”

As she turned to leave, he called, “Unless you wanted to ride double with me.”

Walking back to the gate of the stall, she licked her lips and weighed the option. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I weren’t. But I need an answer now. Those loose cows are getting near a dangerous area in the hills, even as we speak.” Zane slid the bit into the black horse’s mouth and adjusted the reins while he talked.

“Okay. Am I dressed all right?” She held her hands out and dropped her gaze to her jeans, winter coat and low-heeled suede boots.

“Cows don’t care about fashion,” he said, not even looking as he tossed a blanket over the horse’s back.

“Uh-huh,” she replied dryly. “But what about functionality? Do I need to change anything? I can run back to my room, if so.”

He sent her a quick side glance as he grabbed the saddle off the floor and draped it over the horse’s back. “It’ll do. But if you want to preserve the condition of those rather expensive-looking shoes, I’d swap out for a pair of work boots around the corner by the front alley door. While you’re there, grab some gloves.”

She followed his directions, and by the time she’d swapped her boots out and found a small pair of work gloves in a plastic bin, he was leading his horse—Sarge, he’d called the large black equine—out to the alley. The top of the horse’s head rose taller than Zane’s by several inches, and the beast’s well-muscled flanks were sleek and shiny, his ears perked and alert. Just the same, she asked, “Sarge can manage both of us?”

“For a while. I won’t ask him to work with both of us in the saddle.” He motioned her closer. “You’ll sit in front of me until we get up to the part of the fence where the cows got loose. Then you’ll have to get down while Sarge and I round up strays. But you can observe. Maybe give Roy a hand with repairing the fence?” He slapped the saddle and nodded toward Sarge. “Need a leg up?”

“Onto this giant? Definitely.” She moved closer and poked her foot in the stirrup, a challenge in itself thanks to her tight, slim-legged jeans. As she hoisted herself up, she felt Zane’s large hands on her hips, his fingers digging into her with a firm grip. The heat from his palms sent shockwaves through her, and her breath snagged in her lungs. Erin worked to calm her scattered pulse as she settled into the saddle, sliding as far forward as she could to make room for him. But Zane had a rugged, magnetic presence that was hard to ignore. Especially when his touch made her blood sizzle like Fourth of July sparklers. He swung up to sit behind her, and his broad chest and muscled legs surrounded her. The press of his body against hers was like a vacuum, sucking all the oxygen from her lungs. Dizzying desire flashed through her as his arms circled her to take hold of the reins. “Ready?”

She squeezed the saddle horn, searching for balance as her head swam. She hummed her assent, because she doubted she had the breath left to speak without her voice cracking.

Zane clicked his tongue to the horse. As they rode out, he paused long enough to call to the two dogs that milled around the gate to the pasture.

“Ace! Checkers! What are you two lazybones still doing here? We have work to do.” He gave a whistle and the dogs sprang to action, running into the pasture in front of them.

Erin tried to focus on the blue heelers bounding over the frozen ground ahead of them rather than the hard male body pressed against her back. Easier said than done, especially when Zane settled his hand on her belly, anchoring her as he kicked his horse’s gait up to a canter. She clutched the saddle horn with one hand and his arm with her other.

“You okay?” he asked, his mouth beside her ear and his warm breath sending a tingle through her.

“I’m good,” she said, though her voice sounded choked. She hoped he credited her winded reply to the jostling of the horse.

They rode for several minutes in silence, crossing the rolling hills of frozen pastureland. She drank in the lovely setting, imagining what it might be like to live in this rural setting, working the land and managing a herd for a living. Peaceful, in many respects, she thought, then remembered the stress and concern Michael had expressed to her because of the sabotage. Being at the mercy of the weather was a constant issue for the ranch. Drought, blizzards, storms could all take a toll on the herd.

“Do you ever wish you did something else for a living? That you lived in town and had a nine-to-five job?” she asked.

“No,” he said without hesitation.

“Never? Not even when the herd gets loose right at dinnertime and you have to round up straying cows in the freezing cold?”

She felt the rumble from his chest as he grunted. “Inconvenient, yes. But ranching is my life. My heritage.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t want something else for yourself. You really don’t ever think about getting a different job?”

“No.” His tone was so certain, so final. She had to admire that he was so sure of his life path. She wondered sometimes if she’d chosen to be a private investigator for the right reasons. If Sean hadn’t been killed, what would she have done with her life?

When the cattle and other ranchers on horseback came into sight, she pushed the philosophical questions aside and took in the scene before her. She recognized Josh in his black hat riding in a wide arc around the straying cows. Brady was further out in the pasture, while another man sat with his back to them, astride an ATV near the fence line, talking to the foreman, Roy Summers. Zane rode up to these two and addressed them. “Erin came to observe. Dad, want to give her a hand down?”

When the man on the ATV glanced over his shoulder, she saw it was Michael McCall, his face marked by lines of strain and worry.

Roy stepped forward first and reached up to help her down from the saddle. She caught the faint whiff of alcohol as the foreman set her on the ground. “Thank you, Roy.”

“Ma’am,” he replied, dipping his chin briefly.

“You can ride with me,” Michael said, patting the ATV seat behind him, “or you can stay up here with Roy.”

With another whistle to the dogs, Zane set off to help his brother and Brady head off the wandering cattle. She watched him ride away, a strange twinge in her chest. His command of his horse, his poise in the saddle, his whole confident demeanor struck her as infinitely sexy. He embodied the classic cowboy of American folklore, the rugged masculinity made famous by Madison Avenue advertisements. Her heart kicked, and her breath snagged as he galloped away.

“Ms. Palmer?”

She jerked her gaze back to Michael. “Oh, right. I’ll watch from here. I don’t want to be in the way.”

He touched the brim of his hat in acknowledgment and said something to Roy she didn’t catch as he revved the ATV engine and drove off in the same direction Zane had gone.

“Can I do anything to help you?” she asked Roy. “I brought gloves.” She pulled out the leather work gloves to show him.

“Sure. You can hold the posts while I work on the barbed wire.”

A stiff cold wind blew up across the pasture, and she dug in her coat pocket again for the bright purple knit hat her sister had given her last Christmas. After tugging the hat on, she moved to kneel beside Roy, who worked to wind new wire on the downed posts. The longer she held the posts, the more she doubted the value of her contribution. Roy was clearly humoring the ranch guest. But the simplicity of her task allowed her to follow the action in the pasture. The flow of the men on horseback, the dogs and the ATV, gathering the far-flung cows and guiding them back toward the open section of fence, was mesmerizing. More and more, though, she found herself less observing the process as a whole and more tracking one man in particular. Zane.

She furrowed her brow when she realized what she was doing. What was her fascination with him? Josh and Brady were every bit as handsome, if happily attached. The other men had been more cheerful, though she couldn’t find fault in Zane’s behavior toward her. She’d witnessed his courtesy and thoughtfulness. Was it the veil of mystery and wariness that surrounded Zane that intrigued her?

She gave her head a brisk shake. She didn’t need to form any leanings one way or another about any of the McCalls or the ranch staff without further observation and interviews. She’d been on-site less than twenty-four hours, for Pete’s sake! Yet her first impressions had always been a valuable guide in the past. So...what did it mean that she had such a visceral reaction to Zane?

“Now when they come around that hill with the herd, they’ll drive ’em right up here. Once they’re all inside the fence, you take that post over there—” Roy pointed to the last place the fence was standing “—and I’ll start driving in the new posts.”

“Got it.” She sniffed the air discreetly, more certain now that she smelled liquor on the man’s breath. Michael had told her, when giving her an overview of the state of the ranch, that Roy had recently done a stint in a rehab center. She didn’t want to stick her nose where it didn’t belong, but she wondered if she should let Michael know she suspected Roy had been drinking.

“Now when the cows come through, you’ll need to stay way back. You don’t wanna get trampled.”

Her pulse jumped, and she gave him a nervous laugh. “Uh, no. Certainly not!”

Roy glanced up from his manipulation of the barbed wire with a pair of long-nosed pliers. “The boys will do their best to steer ’em straight in, but you can never predict when a cow will veer off track.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

A whoop sounded behind her, and she turned to see Josh headed toward them, the first of the herd charging up the hill.

“Stand clear!” Roy gave her a gentle push, backing her away from the gap in the fence.

She scuttled away, her heart racing with the thrill of seeing the beasts beating a path toward her. The ground shook, and the low bleats and moos escalated the din of thundering hooves and the roar of the ATV engine as Michael guided the left flank.

Erin scanned the terrain, searching for Zane. He and Brady were bringing up the rear with the dogs racing along beside the cattle, tongues lolling. As he neared, Zane cast a glance her way. She smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.

But instead of returning a grin, his face darkened, and he shouted, “Erin, look out!”

She jerked her head around in time to see one of the cows at the edge of the herd veering away from the others. The cow was running straight at her.




Chapter 5 (#ud0e994ef-21a1-51ef-8250-3ad136980580)


Adrenaline spiked in Erin’s blood. She stepped back, only to come up against the barbed wire of the fence. Without a moment to second-guess, she whipped off her purple hat and waved it and her arms at the approaching cow as she yelled.

The cow tossed its head and turned sharply left, seconds before it would have trampled her. Relief left her limp, her knees shaking, and she would have collapsed if not for the strong arms that wrapped around her and pulled her into a hug.





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