The Rancher's Rules

She sat down on the barn floor, glad for Grant’s penchant for cleanliness and his ranch hands’ follow-through. Snoopy nuzzled her neck before settling down beside her and laying his head in her lap. She scratched behind his ears again while she contemplated both her own and Grant’s reaction to the kiss.

The one relationship in her life she knew she could count on was her friendship with Grant, and she didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize it. She didn’t want to get hurt again either.

It had been a whole lot easier when she’d been living in Portland and going to college, and then doing her teaching practice. Maybe coming home had been a mistake in more ways than one. She’d wanted to mend her relationship with her father, but that hadn’t worked out. He’d sold the ranch and moved away.

Now, instead of being a blessing, like she’d thought it would be, her constant proximity to Grant was sending her libido out of control. While out of sight hadn’t exactly been out of mind, without his constant physical presence she’d been able to convince herself that this passionate encounter in the barn had been an aberration and she didn’t want him anymore.

Right.

Her body was still aching from a simple kiss. What would happen if they got even half of their clothes off, like they had that fateful night? And, more importantly, did she want to find out? Could she give him her body without giving him her heart, and if she did would it help her to dismiss this aching need pulsing through her once and for all?

She didn’t know the answer to those questions, but she did know it irritated her that Grant had a rule against kissing her. It brought out a primitive, competitive side to her nature, and a speculative look settled on her face. It was a look that Grant knew well and one he’d learned to be very wary of.

The smile that tipped her lips was one that had sent him into damage control mode on more than one occasion too, but he wasn’t there to see it now. Poor guy.

Grant could not believe that he had kissed Zoe. Talk about sheer male stupidity. Memories he’d fought hard to suppress rose to the surface, reminding him of how it felt to hold his best friend’s delectable body in his arms. A nuclear meltdown would have been cooler.

After filling a pot with water, he placed it on the gas range to heat, and then moved to the fridge to pull out ingredients for the cheese sauce. He wasn’t a fool, so why had he behaved like one? Zoe was his best friend. She was younger than him and needed to be protected, not seduced. He’d almost done that once when she was nineteen. He wouldn’t have stopped, and he’d had her half-naked before she’d come to her senses and done so herself.

Letting her go had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. It was right up there with trying to live with himself after seeing the look of horror on her face when she’d run from the barn after he’d all but taken her innocence. At twenty-four, he’d had a lot more experience than her, and she hadn’t known what to do with the feelings their kisses had inspired but he had. And he’d tried to do it.

It was not a memory that made him feel good about himself. He’d moved fast to get their friendship back on track, and to do it had gone so far as to flirt with a woman from New York a few days later at the town dance. It had worked. Until now. He wasn’t about to repeat his mistake of the past and risk losing Zoe’s friendship, but, damn—she had tasted good.

Grant swore soundly. Remembering how good she tasted was not going to help him keep their friendship on the right footing. He didn’t need to remember how good she’d felt in his arms either. She belonged to another part of his life. The permanent part.

Any physical relationship between them would have to be transitory. He didn’t do permanent. He didn’t even try to anymore. Besides, she would be no happier as a rancher’s wife than she had as a rancher’s daughter. And he’d learned that leaving the ranch was not an option for him. He belonged here. But she didn’t. That left her place in Grant’s life pretty well defined: friend.

And friendship was good, especially with Zoe. She didn’t care about his money, his holdings, or his mother’s connections on the east coast. Zoe only cared about Grant, and that kind of friendship wasn’t something he’d ever willingly risk. Not even for soul-shattering sex.

He pulled out a block of Tillamook cheese and started grating it into a bowl.

“It’s freezing out there.”

He swung around to face her, still holding the cheese in one hand and the grater in the other. Snow stuck to her hair and jacket. Her hands were red from the cold. He wanted to grab her and take up where they had left off on the couch.