The Rancher's Rules

“The woman last night? Linda?”

“Yes.”

Zoe smiled. “She take exception to you turning your evening into a double date at the last minute?”

As a matter of fact, she had. But Grant wasn’t about to share that with Zoe. He shrugged instead.

She laughed. “You didn’t have to join me and Tyler. He’s a sweetheart under all that leather.”

“Sweethearts do not get tattoos of naked women in chains on their biceps.”

Zoe had got that I’m going to protect the underdog look on her face. “He got the tattoo when he was a lot younger. You shouldn’t judge a man by the vagaries of his youth.”

Grant couldn’t help it. He laughed. Zoe leaping to the defense of an abandoned kitten made sense. Zoe protecting the reputation of the guy she had been out with the night before did not. He had looked like someone who could take care of himself and Zoe besides. That was why Grant had insisted on joining them. He hadn’t liked the way the other man had looked at her.

“You going out with him again?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Come on, niña. He’s not your type.”

She looked at him, and something in her eyes made his body tense, ready to do battle. “Just what is my type, Grant?”

“It’s not that clown from last night.”

She walked over to the table and gently put Bud back in his cage. “His name is Tyler.”

“I don’t care what his name is. He is not the right man for you.”

“Yeah, well, according to you, neither are any of the other men I’ve dated since I was sixteen.”

It was an old argument and Grant knew he’d lose. Zoe dated who she wanted, driving him crazy in the process.

She grabbed her coat. After she’d put it on, she yanked on her gloves and hat. The bobble bounced wildly from her harsh tugging. “I’m really not in the mood to argue about this. I’ve got forty little yellow bells to cut out for tomorrow’s craft project. I’d better be getting home.”

Grant grabbed his car keys from the drawer by the sink. “Take my truck. You don’t want Bud to freeze.”

She considered his suggestion silently. He could tell she was warring with her desire for independence and her concern for the hamster. “What about my landlady’s car?”

“I’ll follow you and drive my truck back.”

She chewed on her lower lip. “It’s a cold ride. Mrs. Givens doesn’t need the car right now. It belongs to her son and he’s away at college. Just bring it by when you get back from your trip. I assume you are flying out in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“You could have one of your hands make the transfer tomorrow, if you like.”

“We’ll see,” he said noncommittally, knowing he would not do so. He would rather she kept his truck until his return, when hopefully her own vehicle would be repaired. He was careful not to let the satisfaction he felt show in his face, however.

If she thought he was getting away with being “overly protective”, as she called it, she was stubborn enough to insist.

That Sunday, Zoe rushed around her apartment before Mrs. Givens arrived for tea. She had invited her landlady the previous week and didn’t want to cancel at the last minute. It would make the older woman suspicious. Zoe didn’t want Mrs. Givens to realize that she had taken in another stray. Even this close to Christmas, she had the feeling that one more pet would prompt an eviction notice.

She led her German Shepherd, Snoopy, into the back bedroom and shut the door, and then tucked Bud’s cage into the cubbyhole above the sink in her tiny bathroom. That should do it. With luck Zoe would find a new owner for Bud before Mrs. Givens was any the wiser. The hamster’s exercise wheel squeaked as Bud’s short rodent legs trod a constant rotation on the plastic device. Princess, one of Zoe’s cats, watched with a hungry look. Zoe tapped the acrylic cage and smiled. Even Princess could not get into the hamster’s haven.

Just to be safe, she shooed the cat out of the bathroom and shut the door. The doorbell rang and Snoopy let out a shattering series of barks. She hushed the dog before opening the front door, and almost fell backward as she came face-to-face with Grant’s imposing six-foot-two-inch frame.

He reached out to steady her. “You okay?”

“Sure.” She’d just been expecting a rather short, rather round older lady rather than his well-muscled, ultra masculine person. She’d done a pretty good job of sublimating her body’s response to Grant since that awful night when she’d been nineteen, but every so often feelings she’d rather not acknowledge leapt past her defenses. Like now.