A Ranger For Christmas (Linda Lael Miller Presents; Men 0f The West Book 40)

by Stella Bagwell

  “Okay, Vivian. Talk on. I have as much time as you do.”

  He made her name sound like sweet cream dripping over a ripe strawberry. Which made it even more impossible to gather her jangled senses.

  “All right,” she said, then, resisting the urge to lick her lips, she searched for the right place to start. “Like I said back in Mort’s office, I didn’t know you’d be coming today. Or any day, for that matter. This whole notion of me getting a new partner has thrown me. I was expecting to be going it alone.”

  His brown eyes were roaming her face, yet Vivian purposely avoided locking gazes with him. Instead, she focused on the faint curve of his lower lip and the tiny cleft denting the bottom of his chin. He’d clearly shaved this morning. His bronze skin was smooth without the hint of a whisker and Vivian couldn’t help wondering how it would feel to rub her cheek against his.

  “Is that what you wanted?” he asked. “To work alone?”

  She cleared her throat and tried to gather her thoughts. “Not exactly. You see, Louis believed his leg was only slightly cracked and he’d most likely be back on the job in two or three weeks. Learning to work with someone new takes time and—”

  “Patience,” he finished for her.

  “Well, yes, I suppose that’s the right word for it. And I thought handling things on my own would be easier.”

  “Have you had many partners since you became a ranger?” he asked.

  “Only Louis. What about you?”

  “Three. The first one retired. The second one moved to the northern part of the state. And now I have you.”

  The way he said you very nearly made Vivian shiver. She reached for the knob that adjusted the heater and turned it up a notch. “I see. So how long have you been a ranger?”

  “Nine years,” he answered. “I became a ranger right after I turned twenty.”

  She’d guessed him to be in his late twenties and she’d guessed right. And though his age really had nothing to do with anything, it made her feel ridiculously old.

  “There’s a tiny crease marring your forehead,” he said. “What’s the matter? Is there anything wrong with me being twenty-nine?”

  “No. It’s just that you’re very young.” Compared to me, she almost added.

  He studied her for a long moment before he finally asked, “How long have you been a ranger?”

  “Nine years for me, too. Only I didn’t start as young as you. I’m thirty-five.”

  He shrugged as though her age was insignificant and she supposed, to him, it was.

  “You didn’t have to tell me your age,” he said, then flashed her a grin that was far too provocative. “But if it makes you feel any better you look a lot younger.”

  She stared at him in disbelief while the urge to curse and laugh fought a duel inside her. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

  “Just the facts, ma’am.”

  There was a teasing lilt to his voice and it warned her that if she didn’t try to put a brake on his behavior right now, he would soon be outright flirting. And she couldn’t deal with that. Not from this man.

  She squared around in the seat until the seat belt was straining tightly against her shoulder. “Look, Sawyer, I have no idea if your former work partners were male or female. Or what sort of relationship you had with them. But I think you need to know right up front, right now, that there isn’t going to be any flirting, any hanky-panky or anything else between us. The only thing the two of us are going to do together is...work. Got it?”

  “That’s what I’m here for—work,” he said cheerfully. “I know the ranger rules. Hands off. No flirting. No hanky-panky. No anything else.”

  He was making fun of her. Making her sound like some prim spinster afraid to have a man even look in her direction. Damn it.

  He said, “You know, you’re even prettier when you get stirred up.”

  Her jaw tight, she stared out the windshield. Damn, Mort. What in the hell was he thinking calling in a man like this to take Louis’s place? Why couldn’t he have called some man out of retirement, some old ranger that didn’t set her on fire each time she looked at him?

  “What makes you think I’m stirred up?”

  Leaning slightly toward her, he studied her face. “Because the little gold flecks in your green eyes are flashing fire and there’s a raspberry-red color staining your cheeks.”

  What was it about this guy? She wanted to be outraged and insulted, yet deep down she felt flattered that he was implying she was attractive.

  Oh, brother, she’d been without a man for much too long. At least, that’s what her younger brother Holt would say.

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Sure. We’re going to be the best of partners,” he said, then gestured toward the gearshift. “Don’t you think you should put that in Reverse and get us out of here? We’re burning daylight.”

  Straightening away from him, she yanked the gearshift into R and tromped on the gas pedal to send the vehicle flying backward. If Mort happened to look out the window and see gravel spewing from the tires, then so be it, she thought crossly. He was the one who’d gotten her into this mess.

  Chapter Two

  Sawyer would be lying if he said he was anything but shocked when he’d walked into Mort Woolsey’s office and found Vivian Hollister waiting for him.

  When he’d been contacted about taking the temporary position here at Lake Pleasant, he’d been excited at the opportunity to work in different surroundings. He’d not bothered to ask who he’d be working with. And even when Mort had told him his new partner would be a woman, he’d not been fazed one way or the other. Sawyer liked to think of himself as easygoing and flexible. He could work with most anyone. And he’d expected Vivian Hollister to be no different. Still, he’d imagined his new partner was going to be a coarse, homely woman in her early fifties with a henpecked husband waiting for her at home.

  Vivian Hollister had blown that image to smithereens. Tall and shapely with chestnut-red hair that brushed her shoulders, she had the face of an angel and the sass of an unbroken filly. Just looking at her sent his thoughts in all sorts of naughty directions. And to make matters worse, she knew it.

  As for the husband waiting on her at home, he wasn’t sure about that yet. Back in Mort’s office, he’d checked out her ring finger and there definitely hadn’t been any sort of band or diamonds to brand her as some man’s wife. But that hardly meant she was unattached. For all he knew, she could have a special boyfriend, or even a live-in lover. No doubt, a woman who looked like her had men circling around her like a pack of hungry coyotes.

  “Where did you work before?”

  Her question brought him out of his daydreaming and he looked over to see her focus was on the narrow blacktopped road. So far they’d been traveling through open desert hills dotted with spiny bayonet, sage, cacti and agave. To his right, in the far distance, he caught glimpses of blue water.

  “At Dead Horse Ranch State Park. It’s near Cottonwood. Are you familiar with the area?”

  “A little. Enough to know the landscape is far different up there than it is here. You have trees and forests and creeks. We mostly have thorns, horned lizards and rattlesnakes. Are you sure you can handle it until spring ends?”

  He chuckled. “I can handle most anything—for a while.”

  “If you live in Cottonwood, you have a long commute,” she commented.

  “I live on the Yavapai-Apache reservation west of Camp Verde. Once I get on 17 the drive isn’t all that bad.”

  She darted him a glance. “You have family there? On the reservation?”

  “Only my grandmother. I live with her.”

  “Oh.”

  His gaze slipped over her profile to eventually land on the soft, sweet curve of her lips. Did she have a special man that kissed her until she was wrapping her arms
around his neck and begging for more?

  Trying to shake off that image, he repeated her one-word reply. “Oh. What does that mean? You can’t figure why I’d live on the reservation?”

  “No. It means I’m a bit surprised that you live with your grandmother. I figured you’d have a bachelor pad in town.”

  Chuckling again, he shook his head. “Me live in a town? Never. And I’d never leave my grandmother. She raised me from a little boy. It’s time for me to take care of her now.”

  She shot him an odd look that he couldn’t quite decipher. Maybe she considered it strange, even shiftless, for a man of his age to still be living with his grandmother in the same house he’d grown up in. Some of his friends thought so. They’d often encourage him to move off the reservation so that he’d be closer to his work and all the excitement and entertainment the city had to offer. But none of them understood what he deemed most important in his life.

  “Is your grandmother elderly?”

  “Nashota is seventy-seven. And thankfully in great health. When I said take care of her—I didn’t mean she was decrepit. I meant financially and to make sure she knows that she’s loved and has a purpose for living. That kind of thing.”

  She remained quiet for a long time, and though Sawyer would’ve liked to know what was going on in that pretty head of hers, he didn’t ask. It wasn’t often that he talked to a woman about his grandmother or his personal life. And he wasn’t sure why he’d said anything to Vivian Hollister. But there was something soft and alluring about her that tugged at him. Something that made her very different from the women he normally associated with.

  After a moment, she said, “You’re a lucky man, Sawyer. All of my grandparents have passed on. I miss not being able to spend time with them.”

  She understood. And he suddenly realized Vivian Hollister was far more than a pretty female in a ranger uniform. The knowledge left him a little uneasy. It wasn’t in his nature or his plan to ever get serious about a woman. And he definitely didn’t want to develop an important attachment to this one.

  Hell, why would he be worrying about such a thing? He was an expert at playing the field. He knew how to enjoy a woman without letting his heart take a serious dive. Enjoying some romantic time with Vivian shouldn’t put him in a risky situation. He wouldn’t let it.

  “That’s why I want to be around for these last years of her life. Some of my friends call me corny and a few other things. For being so close to my grandmother. But that’s all right. I have a tough hide.”

  “I wouldn’t call your devotion corny. I’d call it admirable.”

  Admirable. Sawyer couldn’t remember ever being called that by anyone before. Especially a woman. Granted, he was basically a good guy. But he was hardly one to be admired. It wouldn’t be long before Vivian figured that out for herself. Still, for now, he might as well enjoy her approval for as long as it lasted, he thought.

  He forced his gaze to move away from her and on to the landscape passing the passenger window. “Is this the route you and Louis usually patrol?”

  “This is it. There’s nearly a hundred and fifty camping sites in the park, so the responsibilities for those are divided among the rangers. This is the area Louis and I keep tabs on. Along with several hiking trails.”

  “What about the lake itself? I understand there are several water sports going on around here for most of the year.”

  “That’s right. Fishing, boating, scuba diving and swimming. Our duties don’t include visitors on the water. The park has specially trained rangers for that job. So we don’t have to concern ourselves with those folks.” She wheeled the SUV onto a curved blacktopped road that entered a large camping area. “I don’t know about Dead Horse Ranch State Park, but you can see we have lots of snowbirds during the winter months.”

  As she drove very slowly through the campgrounds, Sawyer eyed the motor homes and camp trailers parked on the desert hillside. A few mesquite trees and tall saguaros dotted the landscape, along with a variety of cacti and thorny chaparrals. The rugged landscape appealed to Sawyer. Almost as much as the woman sitting beside him.

  “Do you have many problems with visitors carving into the saguaros or that sort of thing?”

  “Most of the park visitors understand the rules not to disturb the trees or vegetation. But from time to time there are some who decide it’s more fun to vandalize than to enjoy the beauty of nature.”

  “Same at Dead Horse Ranch. I might as well tell you that it doesn’t bother me to write those kinds of people a ticket.”

  She glanced at him. “It doesn’t bother me, either. Honest mistakes are a different matter. Especially when children make them. But to me, deliberate acts are unpardonable.”

  She sounded as though she could be firm when needed and flexible when the situation warranted. Thank goodness she didn’t sound like one of those gung-ho rangers, who considered themselves more as deputy sheriffs rather than park protectors.

  He glanced out the window just as they passed a site with an elderly man cooking at a built-in grill. “Kind of cold to be cooking breakfast outside this morning,” Sawyer commented. “I take it the park doesn’t have a fire ban on right now.”

  “No. If at all possible, we try to avoid fire bans. Visitors especially enjoy cooking out. And folks from the northern states think this sort of weather is warm.”

  He chuckled. “Right. T-shirts in forty-degree weather. We see the same thing at Dead Horse Ranch,” he said, then glanced in her direction. “Do you live close by? Or do you have a long commute to work?”

  “I live a few miles out of Wickenburg. So the drive isn’t all that bad.”

  He waited with hopes she’d add something more about her personal life. To his disappointment, she remained silent so he asked, “No other rangers from that area to carpool with?”

  “No. What about you?”

  He shook his head. “Not that I know of. Anyway, I’m independent. I like to come and go on my own.”

  She looked at him and smiled and Sawyer decided for the next six months he was going to have a hell of a time trying to keep his mind on his work. There was something totally sexy about the way the corners of her lips tilted upward and her green eyes glimmered like sunlight on the water.

  “Me, too,” she said, then her expression turned thoughtful. “Maybe we have more in common than I first thought.”

  He tried not to grin, but he couldn’t help it. She made him feel very happy that he was a man. And as of this morning, a very lucky man. “Oh, I expect we’re going to discover we have a lot in common, Vivian.”

  The tone of his voice must have given his thoughts away because she suddenly rolled her eyes and focused her attention back to her driving.

  She said, “As long as the hanky-panky isn’t one of the things we have in common, then we’ll get along fine.”

  He laughed. “Oh, Vivian. You’re so prim and pretty.”

  Shaking her head, she said, “And you’re so—ridiculous.”

  “Oh, come on. You know you want to laugh with me. And you know you already like me. Don’t you?”

  He could see the corners of her lips twitching as she fought to hold back a smile.

  “Stop it. Stop it right now,” she ordered in a voice that was more playful than demanding.

  “No. You stop, Viv, right now.”

  Her head jerked in his direction and she frowned at him in stunned fascination. “What?”

  “Back up. To the campsite we just passed on my side. The guy was changing the oil in his truck.”

  “That’s not exactly a crime, Sawyer,” she pointed out.

  “No. But I want to make sure he doesn’t think he’s going to dispose of all that used oil back at the sanitary station.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that,” she admitted. “And I should have. We’ve caught people trying to dump all sor
ts of environmental hazards into the sewer tank. Hopefully this guy plans to haul the oil to the nearest town and dispose of it properly.”

  “We’re going to make sure he does.”

  Vivian jammed the vehicle in Reverse and slowly backed to the entrance of the campsite.

  “I’ll let you deal with this one,” she said smugly, as the two of them climbed out of the SUV. “You’re the one who spotted it.”

  “Thanks,” he said drily. “I always like to start my day off being a jerk.”

  “Don’t you mean doing your duty?” she asked, as she walked alongside him.

  Sawyer looked at her and chuckled. “Sometimes they’re one and the same.”

  * * *

  He’d called her Viv. Such a simple little thing that really meant nothing. And yet, here it was nearly three hours later and Vivian still couldn’t quit thinking about the way his shortened use of her name had made her feel. The way he made her feel. It was crazy.

  “Do you always eat like a bird?”

  He was sitting a few feet away from her on a sunbaked boulder just off a hiking trail. Less than three yards in front of them was the edge of a rock bluff overlooking a portion of the lake. It was a beautiful view of the water among the desert hills, and they’d chosen the spot to stop for lunch.

  For the past fifteen minutes Vivian had watched him wolf down two sandwiches, a bag of chips and a banana. Now he was topping it off with a chocolate cupcake with thick confectioner’s icing. As for her, she’d managed to nibble her way through half of a bologna sandwich, but even eating that much food had been a major chore. Being in Sawyer’s company had caused major butterflies in her stomach. At this rate, she’d be skin and bones before Louis came back to work.

  “Normally I have a big appetite. I’m just not hungry for lunch today. Guess I had too much eggs and chorizo for breakfast.”

  “You cook breakfast before you leave for work?”

  No, Vivian rarely cooked anything. Not because she disliked it, but because Reeva, the longtime house cook for Three Rivers Ranch, always kept delicious dishes on the family table. But Vivian wasn’t quite ready to reveal to Sawyer that she and her daughter lived with her mother and brothers on one of the largest ranches in Arizona. He saw her only as a working woman. And for now that was the way Vivian wanted to keep it.