The Rancher's Rules

He missed her.

She could be so damn stubborn sometimes. Like when her dad had sold the ranch. It had been the only move that made sense.

The Jensens had had Zoe late in life, when her dad had been in his early sixties already. He’d wanted to retire. His only son had died a year before Zoe had been born. With only a vegetarian daughter who would no more sell the cattle for beef than cut off her own right arm, he hadn’t had anyone to leave in charge of the ranch—so he’d decided to sell.

He’d been doing Zoe a favor, and Grant still wasn’t sure what she had been so upset about. Certain times of year, like during the stock sale, she’d been miserable living on the ranch. He’d tried to talk to her about it once, but she’d changed the subject. He hadn’t pursued it, not wanting her to realize he’d been the one to encourage her dad to sell.

They argued about enough lately.

Mrs. Patterson needed to vacuum under the guest room bed. Zoe sneezed for what seemed like the hundredth time while she pleaded with her cat to come out. “Alexander, you can’t stay under the bed while I’m at school. The litter box is in the bathroom, with Princess.”

Zoe was afraid that was the problem. She had left the cats in the bathroom with the litter box the last two days while she went to school. Alexander had not liked the confinement. Smart enough to realize that today would require more of the same, he had run under the bed and wasn’t coming out.

Zoe had already tried her most coaxing voice and offering kitty treats, but Alexander would have none of it. Darn it. She was going to be late for school if she didn’t hurry.

“If you don’t come out from under there, I’m giving Princess your play mouse.”

Who said cats couldn’t understand plain English? Alexander dashed from under the bed and made a beeline for the bedroom door. Zoe would have lost him if two male hands had not shot out to catch the desperate feline. Zoe saw fancy tooled Spanish cowboy boots from her vantage point under the bed. Grant.

She scooted out and lifted her gaze to him. He was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt under his coat. So today he was working the ranch with his hands. It surprised her he still did it. He was a man of contradictions. A smart business tycoon who could ride herd on a horse or fly a helicopter to do it equally as well.

And he looked equally yummy in both business and ranch attire, which was not a comforting thought in their current relationship.

Jumping to her feet, she dusted her hands off. “What are you doing here?”

“Bad morning?”

“Not if you discount that I woke up late, had to skip breakfast and my cat hid under the bed. Now, even without breakfast, most of my students are going to arrive before I do.”

“I’m glad I came over, then.”

“Why did you?” She smiled so he’d know she wasn’t being snippy.

Her annoyance with him had worn out sometime after dinner last night. It wasn’t his fault she was feeling so vulnerable since her dad had sold the ranch. It had been a final slap in the face. The ultimate confirmation that Zoe wasn’t the son he’d wanted and hadn’t made much of a daughter either.

“The roads are bad.” He smiled that killer smile that had been doing strange things to her insides since she was sixteen. “I’m going to drive you to work.”

She sighed with exasperation. “Grant, you may not realize this, but there are women all over the county who are driving themselves to work today. Some are driving busloads of children to school and even more are driving their own.”

He shrugged. “Better get a move on. You’re already late.”

“You aren’t going to listen to me about this, are you?”

“No.”

“I could refuse to ride with you.”

“I’d just follow you all the way into town. Why deny yourself my scintillating company?”

Why indeed? It was pretty sweet he wanted to drive her himself, considering that even if he was concerned he could have asked one of his hands to do the chore. “Fine. Put Alexander in the bathroom. Check their food and water too, please. I’m going to get myself something to eat on the way, since you’ll be driving.” Grant was not the only one who could give orders.

He tipped his Stetson. “Yes, ma’am.”

The fake drawl shivered through her, doing things to her heart and her desire. She forced a casual smile and squeezed past him, her breath quickening as her breasts brushed against his arm. She rushed into the relative safety of the kitchen.

When they were in the truck, she started to peel the banana she’d grabbed along with a yogurt for her breakfast. “How are my pets?”