The Rancher's Rules

At eleven, he had given up the money he’d been saving to build a soapbox car to buy that cow. He had learned the lesson well, and he’d been taking care of Zoe ever since.

He put the hamster back in its cage as he heard the back door open. Zoe came into the kitchen with a blast of cold air and a flurry of snow. He hadn’t realized it was snowing.

He frowned. “You should have waited to come until tomorrow. Just because your truck has four-wheel drive is no excuse to risk the ride over in the snow.”

Zoe pulled off her stocking cap, revealing the silky length of her pretty brown hair. The ridiculous bobble on her hat bounced when she tossed it on the counter.

“I’m not driving my truck.” She yanked on one glove with her teeth and shivered. “Something went wrong with the doo-hickey and Wayne has it down at the garage. I borrowed my landlady’s compact.” She shivered again. “The heat’s broken.”

Grant grabbed her hand and pulled off the other glove. “What the hell were you thinking? You could have frozen on the way over here.” She nearly had. Her small hand felt like an icicle. He chafed it between his own much larger and warmer ones, enjoying the smell of spring she carried with her, even in the dead of winter. “Angel, you need a keeper.”

Zoe smiled up at him and her chocolate-brown eyes twinkled. “I already have one. You.”

He did not smile back. “I’m not doing a very good job if you’re out driving in the snow in some broken-down car without a heater, niña.” No way was she driving home in that death trap.

She pulled her hand from his grip and started unbuttoning her coat. Her fingers trembled. “I’m not a child, and the car isn’t broken—just the heater. What’s the emergency?”

He picked up the hamster cage. “This is the emergency.”

Zoe’s eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest, pressing the swell of her breasts against her loose knit sweater. “No.”

Ignoring his body’s blatant reaction to the subtle stimulus, he forced his gaze to her less than welcoming expression.

She stomped her foot and snow fell onto the kitchen floor. “Do you hear me? I’m not taking him.”

Grant opened the cage and pulled the hamster out. He extended his hand to her. “Look at those sad little eyes. He’s already been rejected by one woman. Don’t do this to him.”

She did not take the animal, but stood defiantly silent—all five feet two inches of her.

“He was a gift to my foreman’s daughter, along with another hamster. The pet store said they were both female.”

Zoe’s eyes widened in comprehension. “They weren’t, and your foreman did not want a zillion hamster babies running around the house?”

Grant nodded. “Little Sheila had to choose between her two hamsters. She chose the female. Bud got left out in the cold.”

Zoe unclipped her long brown hair and smoothed it back, clipping it again. Grant recognized the gesture. She was thinking. She looked at him, her expression unreadable, and then shifted her gaze to the hamster. She reached out to take Bud and cuddled the little furball close to her chest.

Her nicely rounded, high-breasted chest. He ground his teeth at the thought. He hadn’t noticed Zoe’s feminine attributes since the summer she was nineteen—he’d made sure of it—but lately his body had been going haywire around her. He definitely needed an outlet for his libido.

“What’s his name?” she asked.

“Bud.”

“Why didn’t they just take him back to the pet store?”

“They tried, but the store owner wouldn’t take the older hamster along with the babies.”

Zoe’s gaze shot to his. “They already had babies?”

“Yep. That’s how they figured out they weren’t both females.”

Zoe raised her brows at this. “They couldn’t figure it out before that?”

Grant shrugged. “I guess not.”

“Why can’t you keep him?”

“Get real. I don’t do small furry animals. That is your domain. I do not begin to have time for a pet.” Not even a hamster. “Besides, I have to fly out for a business trip tomorrow.”

“So, me coming tomorrow would not have worked?”

“No, but had I known you planned to take your life into your hands to make the trip, I would have come to you.”

“Bringing Bud, no doubt.”

He did not bother to answer. That was a given.

Her eyes skimmed the kitchen, another indicator that she was thinking heavily, and her gaze lit on his empty beer bottle. “Get dumped again?”

“Don’t sound so cheerful about the prospect.”