Tempting the Rancher (Meier Ranch Brothers 1)

She removed her raincoat and stood, waiting, watching, wrecking.

His toes curled inside his boots.

Don’t fall, she’ll leave again.

He reached for a pot on the shelf. “I should water the animals.”

January nodded.

Nat thought she might stop him. She didn’t.

Just as well. Making love to her only to lose her a second time would leave a hole in his heart the size of Texas that even a New York Times bestseller couldn’t fill.

Dear Agnes…I’m fucked if I do, and I’m fucked if I don’t.

6

The least January could do after not following through on her wants, her needs, for not going to Nat when it was clear he wanted her again from his attentiveness, his smoldering stare she had come to know as desire, his monumental erection, was to make their forced night of proximity comfortable.

He stayed with the animals for the better part of an hour. In that time, she shook out a moth-eaten quilt and laid it before the stove, found and cleaned a cast iron skillet, heated up the roasted vegetables she had brought with her, and fetched two fresh water bottles from her pack. One “belly” down—food and water. The other bellies, the one of the enemy—this time, herself, for wanting freedom—and the one that grounded her—Nat, always Nat—were a little harder to manage.

Her inheritance was scheduled to hit her bank account tomorrow morning. No other reason to stay. Her time here had been good, cleansing, like a reboot of the soul, but it only served to exacerbate the itch she had to move again. Nat wasn’t a casual lover. He was old-fashioned in his commitments—one thing that drew her to him all those years ago after she found out her father had no intention of reuniting with his family. One night to recapture the way she and Nat were with each other—generous, enamored, voracious—would keep him right where Mona had written to her that he remained: stuck. January wanted him so very much that the remembered taste of him sat on her tongue. But she loved him even more.

When he returned, he gave her a run-down on the animals. He had adopted her nicknames for the cow and donkey. For the first time, she understood the imprint of her being here. The realization was a heavy coat lined with burrs. She had hoped to drift in and drift out again. No emotional footprints, no evidence she had been back at all. Nothing had gone as planned.

“Are you hungry?” she said, feigning a brightness she struggled to pull off past the guilt.

“This is why you took forever to pack.”

He smiled, for the first time since things between them became so weighty outside, and settled across from her on the floor. Without his wet ball cap, his hair was untamed and sexy. January sensed another shift in their dynamic, both times inside the cabin. Clem’s hands on every nook and cranny. Meier descendants conceived and reared inside these walls. Love that stretched the span of lifetimes. January felt sure that if the great flood came and washed the cabin into the gulch, Nat would have his third “belly” here—his legacy. Forever, this stretch of earth would be his center point when things didn’t go as planned. God whispering in his ear.

A tsunami crashed through January’s body. In an instant, she flared hot and cold and wanted to be anywhere but inside her skin. She had no center point. Hadn’t for a long time. Quite possibly, wouldn’t recognize it if it showed up. S

he didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong anywhere. She was her father, both of them experts at disconnection. Adrift on conflicting tides of resentment and admiration, she rummaged in her pack for the utensils she kept there—one set because she so often ate alone—and fought back hot tears.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

Of course he knew. Nat always knew. He was the most perceptive man she had ever known. The man all others pale in comparison to.

She nodded, not daring to speak. One stubborn tear made itself known. She brushed it aside with a casual swipe of her sleeve cuff. But, of course, he knew.

“Will the others worry?” she asked, handing him a fork and keeping a spoon for herself.

“They know there’s no cell service out here. Probably guess one of the animals was hurt in the storm and come at first light with a trailer. Willie knows about this place. And Mona knows you’re with me.”

As if that knowledge was synonymous with being safe. January didn’t mind the assumption. Largely, it was truth. She backtracked to a topic that didn’t involve her faltering sense of autonomy.

“So tell me about college. I want to hear everything I missed.”

Her question caught him at his first bite. Most people who spent an inordinate amount of time with animals would have lapsed in manners. Nat clenched a loose fist at his lips and waited until he had swallowed to answer.

“I studied ag sciences, worked on a few projects researching the intersection between technology and ranching. My roommate was a computer science major. We teamed up and wrote software that tracked herds, measured the vital signs of certain marker animals, and sent data back to a phone app. We were even able to pinpoint the precise window for Clem’s bull to breed that season based on the animal’s optimum body temperature.”

“That’s huge, Nat. Revolutionary. Did anything ever come of it?”

“Not really. Until they launch more and better satellites into space and rural networks improve, any kind of software to track in real time is useless. That project was really the only thing that held my attention, except…”

January was afraid to ask, but she had never held anything back from Nat. “Girls? Surely a few of them held your attention.”