Calder Storm (Calder Saga 10)

“To be honest, yes. I thought it would be something big and sprawling—an oversized ranch house. I certainly never expected to see something that resembles a southern plantation here in Montana.”

“Don’t forget, the Calders originally came from Texas.” Trey parked the truck near the wide sweep of steps leading to the porch and switched off the engine. “There were plenty of cotton kings there in its early days.”

“True,” Sloan admitted and climbed down from the cab.

By the time she walked around to the driver’s side, Trey had retrieved their luggage. Automatically Sloan took charge of the oversized leather case with her camera and gear.

“I’ve got the rest of it.” He motioned for her to precede him. As she started up the steps, she noticed a pair of old-fashioned wooden rockers off to her left. Seeing her interest in them, Trey explained, “Gramps likes to sit out here on warm days.”

Before Sloan could respond, the front door opened and a petite woman stood on the threshold, the porch light shining on her midnight-dark hair, styled in a youthful short cut.

“You must be Sloan. We’ve been expecting you.” Her smile was warm with welcome as she thrust out a hand in greeting. “Welcome to the Triple C. I’m Trey’s Aunt Cat.”

“Yes. He told me all about you.” But Sloan thought Trey had failed to mention what a vibrant and beautiful woman she was.

Amusement sparkled in the woman’s green eyes. “But not that I favor my mother in looks instead of the Calders, right?” she guessed.

Sloan laughed softly in admission. “He did leave out that detail.”

“Calder men don’t think of such things,” Cat replied as if in friendly warning. “Come in.”

When the older woman stepped back, Sloan walked through the doorway, followed by Trey. The wide entryway opened to a sprawling living room with a hall leading off it.

“Is Gramps still up?” Trey asked as his aunt closed the door behind him.

“He’s in the den with your mother, going over ranch business. They shouldn’t be much longer.” Cat’s voice betrayed the faintest trace of exasperation. “I’ll hurry them along and let them know you’re here. In the meantime why don’t you take Sloan to her room so she can have a chance to freshen up after that long drive. I thought she could have Laura’s.”

“It’s this way,” Trey said to Sloan, nodding in the direction of the big oak staircase that emptied into the living room.

Sloan looked about with interest as she crossed to the stairs. The living room had a masculine sparseness about it, with heavy old furniture and lots of leather—missing were the usual decorator’s touches. The sturdy pieces of furniture showed their age, just as the blackened rock around the fireplace’s maw did, yet everything had a comfortable lived-in quality that appealed to her, mostly by its lack of pretension.

“Tired?” Trey asked when they started up the stairs.

“Not really,” she denied with a dismissing shake of her head, then raised a curious face to him. “Why?”

“I just wondered. You haven’t said much.” A rueful smile immediately quirked his mouth. “Although I admit, Aunt Cat never gives anybody much of a chance to get a word in.”

“When you told me about her, I think I imagined someone quiet and matronly,” Sloan admitted.

“That’s definitely not my aunt.”

“She mentioned that she takes after your grandmother.”

“When you put photographs of them side by side, it’s hard to tell they are two different women. Sometimes Gramps even slips and calls her Maggie.” He pointed to a door near the top of the steps. “Your room is right there.”

A lamp on the bedside table was already on when Sloan opened the door. She took note of the shiny satin spread on the bed, the plushly cushioned armchair in the corner, and the door to an adjoining bathroom, then turned, watching as Trey set her black carry-on bag on the floor and straightened to face her. Suddenly she was acutely aware of everything about him. The room that had seemed so big and spacious now felt small.

“I never asked which room was yours.” She recalled the number of doors that opened into the second-floor corridor.

“Down the hall—unfortunately.” His big hands cupped her shoulders. “Right now I’m wishing that we’d stayed at the hotel tonight.”

The note of longing in his voice kindled her own. “I guess we should have thought of this before.”

“Actually

, I did, but I didn’t want to run the risk that you might change your mind about coming to the ranch.”

Smiling, Sloan swayed into him, her hand sliding onto the muscled wall of his stomach. “Now I’m here—with no way to leave.”