Too Hot to Handle (Jackson Hole 2)

Merry hadn’t formed bonds here as deep as Grace’s but she felt that, too. That sense that these people liked her for herself and didn’t expect something else. They certainly liked her more than her own cousins ever had. Cole was like a big brother to her now, the kind of role she’d always wanted Crystal’s brother to play. And hell, Grace had always been like a sister.

And despite the fact that they’d never even dated, Rayleen and Easy perfectly fit the role of quirky grandparents. Even as she thought that, Rayleen was poking at Easy. “I bet there was nothing to do but fiddle and fornicate for days!” she said.

Easy shook his head. “Weren’t any women on the ranch. It was just us cowhands.”

“That’s what I meant. Don’t tell me you never got up to a little bunkhouse slap and tickle.”

Easy’s face turned bright red. “Woman, there are ladies here, even if you don’t qualify.”

“Well, they’ve got all the parts, I guess, but they’re the ones laughing.”

Merry tried her best to stifle her giggles when Easy shot them a look of accusation, but she couldn’t. In fact, her laughter escaped on a muffled snort that made Grace collapse in hysterics. Easy shook his head and turned to glare at Rayleen.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Then maybe you’d better go on and find yourself someone corrigible to play cards with!” she snapped. “Because I’m damn sure tired of hearing about it.”

They glared at each other so long that Merry’s giggles finally faded away. She cleared her throat. “Do you play the fiddle, Easy?”

“Just campfire style,” he muttered.

“Will you play? I love fiddle music.”

“Oh, no one wants to hear that.”

They all urged him to play. Finally even Rayleen said, “Just go get it, you old coot.”

Easy looked at her one last, long time, then nodded and headed for the house. Cole lit the fire in the pit and passed out beers, and they settled in to listen to Easy play through his repertoire of Western jigs and range ballads. It was beautiful. A perfect night with the last red glow of the sun outlining the dark crags of the Tetons. Merry’s only unanswered wish was that she could lean against Shane the way Grace had snuggled into Cole’s arms.

But it wasn’t like that for them. Not really. Though it was nice to look over and catch him stealing a glance of her. She blushed and felt awkward in the very best possible way.

Rayleen leaned close. “I think that boy’s about to stamp your ass with a brand, Christmas.”

Merry choked on her beer and leaned over to cough as Rayleen pounded her back. “No,” she gasped.

“Oh, he wants it,” Rayleen insisted. “I’d bend over and let him call me Sally if I were you.”

“No! Whatever that means, I’m not going to bend over and…anything!”

“Your loss, Christmas. You young girls don’t know how to jump on a red-hot opportunity.”

Merry rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure you should be the one telling me that.”

Rayleen snorted, but her eyes went to Easy as he finished his last song with a flourish. “Hell,” she murmured. “I’d break his hip.”

“Then maybe you should jump softly.”

For a moment, her eyes went a little…sad. But then she shook her head and raised her chin. “Not bad for an old fart,” she called out. “You all worn-out, Easy, or do you have enough energy to get your butt kicked at rummy?”

“Lady—” he sighed “—I’ve got enough energy to make you eat those words.”

“Once again, you’ve forgotten what a woman’s mouth is for, old man.”

“Damn it, Rayleen,” he groused.

Rayleen howled. Easy stalked off to get the cards, muttering something about loose old women.

Shane stood, drawing Merry’s eye. “I’ve got an early day tomorrow. I hope you all won’t mind if I head on home.”