One Bride for Four Ranchers

Passion fills his gaze as he stares down at me. Anticipation, too. Is he waiting for me to kiss him? Is he waiting for me to run?

My foot slides back, and before I know it I’m walking back down the hallway toward the kitchen. A low laugh follows me, but Joshua doesn’t.

I feel like I’m burning up as I emerge into the kitchen, and for half a second I think I can smell smoke coming off of my skin. Then it hits me, I’m not burning.

But something certainly is.

“Oh crap,” I say, rushing farther into the kitchen. The casserole. Trey had put it in before we... Well before. How the heck long has it been in the oven?

I’m not only here to screw up the Hollister’s relationship to one another. I’m here to burn their damn house down.

But someone has beat me to it, a man stands in front of the oven and with quick precision, he has gloves donned, oven emptied, and is headed out a side door with the now too crispy casserole. He disappears into the night for a long moment, and then he returns, pulling the gloves off his hands as he walks back into the kitchen.

“I leave for a while and they try to burn the place down,” he says, mouth quirking into a grin.

The world spins, and I grip the granite countertop edge like the lifeline it is. The man closes the distance between us quickly, and he takes hold of my upper arms. His grip is strong, and he smells amazing. I look up into his dark eyes, and the world spins faster.

“Why don’t we sit down a minute?” the man says, half carrying me to one of the barstools.

“Who are you?” The words escape my lips before I can take them back. But I have to know.

If my rudeness bothers him, he doesn’t let it show. He smiles—no, smirks—at me. “I’m Tyler Hollister. And who might you be?”

“I’m just—” But before I can say anything else, the ruckus from the billiards room spills into the kitchen. All three Hollister brothers tumble in, rightfully looking for the fire.

Their eyes lock on the Hollister I just met. Clay’s face explodes into a huge grin, and Joshua manages a grudging smile. Trey crosses his arms over his chest, and stares at the stranger without expression.

“Tyler!” Clay says. “About time you drag your ass in here. How —” Clay’s gaze suddenly flashes to me. To Tyler—whoever he is—and his hand is still on my upper arm.

“Are you okay, Jessa?” Trey asks, stepping forward as well.

Joshua, ever the silent brother, walks around the island to stand to my left while Tyler remains of my right.

“I’m fine,” I reassure the brothers, but all of them so close, so big. And four of them... Claustrophobia makes me want to run.

“She looked a little shaky on her feet,” Tyler says. “Whoever this lovely woman is.”

I narrow my eyes at him. Here I am on the verge of a panic attack and the man is flirting with me.

I point at Tyler and glare at the other men. “Another brother?”

Clay is still staring at Tyler’s hand on my arm. But it’s Trey who speaks. “Tyler, meet Jessa. Jessa, this is our younger brother Tyler. He kinda comes and goes as he pleases.”

I look Tyler up and down, still far too aware of his hand on my arm. Younger? He didn’t look much different than the other brothers, and he almost—almost—could have passed for a twin of one of the other three. But seeing Clay and Trey and Joshua side by side... No, this man didn’t make them quadruplets.

He confirms that when he says, “I’m younger, but only by two years. I’m still a growing boy.” He winks at me.

I hear Clay groan with annoyance and see Trey shaking his head out of the co

rner of my eye. And I swear that behind me Joshua snickers softly.

“Nice to meet you, but I’m going to bed,” I announce, turning on the barstools and gently pulling away from Joshua and Tyler. I shuffle carefully to where the kitchen transitions, and then I turn around to look at the brothers. My breath catches.

God, but they are beautiful. Four tall, muscular men with gazes that make me finally understand the term “bedroom eyes.” Four sets of bedroom eyes are now locked firmly on me. The room practically vibrates with hunger.

And no small part of it is coming from me.

“Goodnight,” I say. As I turn toward the stairs, I hear a chorus of goodnights behind me. But I don’t look back again. I’m too sure I’ll succumb to the temptation, that I’ll ask them to come to bed with me. To ask all of them to come to bed with me.