The Texas Rancher's Family

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Erin looked at Nicholas. “Drive safe. And come right home after you drop everyone off.”

  “Will do, sis.” He ushered his friends out.

  The rest of them finished eating. As Erin rose to clear the table and get dessert, thunder rumbled again in the distance.

  She took the peach cobbler out of the oven, then flipped on the TV to check the local weather report.

  Mac set a stack of dishes next to the sink, then moved to stand beside her. “Everything okay?”

  Maybe not, Erin thought. She nodded at the Doppler radar on the screen. As much as she hated to be a nervous Nellie... “Actually, Mac, there is reason to be concerned.” She pointed out the big wave of green and the smaller cells of yellow and red. “Storms out here can be—” she thought about Heather, who was listening intently, and chose her next words carefully “—rather, um, virulent.”

  Mac’s lifted his eyebrows. “Should we be on our way, too?”

  Heather’s face fell. She looked at Stevie and Sammy, who seemed equally disappointed. Erin took another look at the TV screen. As much as she hated to admit it... “It’s probably too late for that, given the direction you’re headed.” Nicholas’s friends all lived on ranches close by. Mac had a nearly forty-minute drive to the Laramie Inn, in good weather. This wasn’t that.

  Since she had a sneaking suspicion that he didn’t believe her, Erin led him out to the back porch. Sure enough, about a mile or so away they could see dark clouds stretching from sky to ground. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. In the yard, the wind was whipping up, rattling the window screens and bending the trees.

  Mac’s dismissive glance let her know he wasn’t worried. “The SUV I rented has all-wheel drive.”

  “The problem is the low water crossings,” Erin returned, knowing spring storms in Texas could be fiercer than he knew. “A lot of the creek beds are dry and filled with debris. They’ll wash over quickly and the roads will likely be flooded till morning.”

  A fact that made leaving the ranch extremely dangerous. “You and Heather would really be safer staying here.”

  * * *

  MAC HAD EXPECTED a lot of things this evening. An argument over the advisability of a wind farm as a solution to Laramie County’s current energy shortage. A division between Monroe family members, some wanting to sell out, others not. Even some minor dickering over the price his company was willing to pay.

  However, he hadn’t expected to hear about the most difficult times of Erin’s life. Or to have dinner in such a warm and homey atmosphere. Or to see his own little girl, who was so often lonely, fit right in with Erin’s boys.

  It all made him want to keep coming back to the Triple Canyon Ranch.

  And not on business.

  Which was why he should head back to town. Now.

  “That’s very kind of you to offer,” he told Erin. “But you really don’t have to put us up for the night.”

  She gave him a wry once-over, letting him know what a gringo she deemed him to be. Mac found himself grinning back. Chemistry sizzled between them, more electric than the supercharged air outside. Wanting her, Mac knew, would be a lot more dangerous to him than a simple thunderstorm.

  “Texas hospitality kind of says I do,” Erin quipped. “After all, it wouldn’t be neighborly of me to turn you and your daughter out in this.”

  Mac looked away from the softness of her lips. He needed to be a gentleman here. “I appreciate your concern, Erin, but I assure you, I’ve driven in storms before. And before you point out that the country roads can be confusing around here, I’d like to remind you that I found my way to the ranch. I can find my way back to town.” Mostly, Mac thought, because his smartphone had GPS. Had he relied only on road signs—which were few and far between—and the directions she had given him, he’d have been up a creek.

  The power flickered briefly as Erin led the way back into the house. The kids had moved from the kitchen table to a jigsaw puzzle set up on the game table in the family room.

  “The point is, you don’t have to. We have plenty of room here. And...” Erin cast another look at his daughter, who was sitting with her head propped up on her hand “Heather looks exhausted.”

  Mac couldn’t argue that point. She did appear tired. Barely able to keep her eyes open.

  Lightning zigzagged across the sky, followed by a house-rattling clap of thunder. “How about I show you the guest quarters before you make up your mind?”

  Reminding himself that he was doing this for his daughter, Mac nodded and followed Erin up the stairs.

  Once again it had been a mistake to let her go first. All he could see when he glanced up was the graceful sway of her hips as she climbed the steps. The sexy spill of her hair, brushing across her shoulders. The hem of her T-shirt caressing her slender waist. Lower still were long, sleek thighs encased in the sky-blue jeans, and sexy calves disappearing into the tops of her custom peacock-blue boots.

  Damn, but she was one attractive woman.

  Oblivious to his admiring glance, Erin turned at the newel post and led the way down a long hallway. They passed what must be her sons’ rooms, and then paused in the doorway of a third.

  It was sparsely decorated and painted a pale pink.

  Mac had a feeling he knew whose room this had been, so he kept a respectful distance as Erin pulled out a trundle bed that was half the height of the other mattress. “You’ll be able to sleep right next to Heather,” she said, patting the crisp sheets. “Whether on the lower or higher bed is up to you. And the boys’ rooms are right next door, so I imagine that will comfort Heather.”

  Erin was right—it would. Mac studied her expression as the power flickered briefly once again.

  Thunder rumbled closer.

  “You’re sure it’s okay?” he rasped, wishing she would give him some reason not to want her.

  “I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t,” she murmured, her eyes telling him she was as affected by his presence as he was by hers.

  They exchanged glances, and an intimacy Mac hadn’t expected welled up between them. Decision made, he ignored the punch of desire in his gut. Just because he felt it didn’t mean he had to act on it.

  He nodded agreeably. “Then we’ll bunk here for the night.”

  Chapter Four

  Erin was curled up in a corner of the living room sofa, sketch pad on her lap, when Mac finally came back downstairs nearly an hour later. His hair was rumpled, his shirttail out, shoes off, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to the elbow. The sleepy look in his eyes indicated he might have briefly nodded off, too, after tucking Heather into bed. Erin smiled, appreciating the fact that he’d cared enough to stay with his daughter until she fell asleep.

  “Nicholas get home okay?” he asked in a low, husky voice that warmed her inside and out.

  Telling herself they were just being nice to each other because they were stuck here together for the duration of the storm, Erin nodded. “He’s upstairs doing homework.” She gazed up at Mac. “Can I get you anything?”

  A sexy glimmer shone briefly in his eyes, as if he had an answer to that. One she wouldn’t want to hear. “I’m good. Thanks.” His glance trailed over the red-white-and-blue lady’s boot, emblazoned with stars and stripes, that she’d been designing. “What’s this?”

  “A limited edition woman’s boot that will be prototyped in time for Independence Day.”

  “Nice.” Mac sat down beside her on the sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “How many copies will you make?”

  Damn, but he smelled good. Like soap and man and an ever-so-faint hint of expensive cologne.

  Erin tried not to think about what it would be like to kiss him, which would have been a whole lot easier if he wasn’t giving off so many pheromones and didn’t have such erotically sculpted lips. Not that she was noticing... “We’ll stop at two hundred.”

  “How long will it take to sell out?”

  How long would it take for her to squelc
h the desire she hadn’t felt since she couldn’t remember when? “Once I put a pair up on the website and in the store? About a week.”

  He continued to study the design. “I like it,” he murmured. “It’s...”

  “Patriotic?”

  “Very,” he drawled as he settled more comfortably beside her, his elbow briefly brushing hers. “And speaking of boots, when do you want to finish the order for mine?”

  Erin put her sketchbook aside. “No time like the present.”

  “Great!” He beamed.

  Determined to resist the disarming smile he sent her way, she rose and strode purposefully toward the armoire. Maybe it was best they keep their mind on business, rather than anything personal. Heaven knew they had shared enough earlier in the evening.

  “Ready to get started?” she asked, returning with an array of samples and a book of color photos.

  He nodded. “You really love this, don’t you?”

  Erin replied with a shrug, “I love the design work, helping customers figure out what they want and turning their wishes into reality.”

  “Do you actually make the boot, too?” His voice was low and gravelly and sexy as hell.

  Erin sat down beside him. “Sometimes I do.” She’d probably make Mac’s, because of the time constraints. “But for the most part, the four artists Monroe’s employs make the lasts and do the actual cutting and sewing and buffing in their home studios.” Erin opened up her satchel. “Any idea what color boot you want?”

  “Dark brown.”

  No surprise there. She fanned out a bunch of samples.

  Mac stared at them, as flummoxed as most men when confronted with all those choices. “I had no idea there were so many different shades of dark brown.”

  She pointed out the undertones in several of the shades. “There’s also a difference in texture. Crocodile or lizard skin is bumpy.” She placed his hand over the hide, so he could feel it, then moved it to the next. “Kangaroo is a little softer. Cowhide is more durable.”

  “Which would you suggest?”

  Erin shrugged. “Depends on whether you plan to use them for outdoor activity or the boardroom.”

  “Both.”

  “In that case...” She suggested a leather that was both soft and durable.

  Mac smiled. “I like it.”

  “Now for the shape. Do you want a full round roper toe? A semiround one? Or something more pointed, like a cut-back toe?” She showed him pictures. “Or perhaps something more rectangular in shape, like a French toe with a wide boxed end?”

  “I prefer the wide boxed end. No scalloping or fancy stitching, though.”

  Erin reached for her sketch pad. “How about something like this?” Sensing from what she already knew of him that he wouldn’t want anything too fussy, she drew a medallion and wrinkle across the toe of the boot, and a simple filigree around the top. The overall effect was understated and elegant.

  “That looks good,” Mac said, satisfied.

  “Do you want your initials on them? We can put them on the ear pulls, where they generally won’t be seen, or on the front inside quarter panel or the heel.”

  “I think the pulls would be good.”

  Erin made a note of that, then got out her calculator. She wrote up a bill of sale, then handed him the final tally. “We usually ask for half up front.”

  “I’ll drop off a check at the shop tomorrow.” Which meant she’d be seeing him yet again.

  Erin glanced at the clock, noting it was after eleven. Rain was still pouring down outside. For a long beat, no one said anything. He seemed as reluctant to call it a night as she was. “I had no idea it was so late,” she said.

  Mac stretched lazily. “Me, either.” His voice was low, gravelly and sexy as hell.

  She moved her gaze away from his sinewy shoulders and chest. There was no use dreaming about what was never going to happen. What she would never let happen. She swallowed around the sudden dryness in her throat. Emotional barriers firmly in place, she asked politely, “Can I get you anything before I go up to bed?”

  He smiled. “I’m good.”

  “Well.” Her pulse quickening in reaction to his nearness, she closed her heavy satchel. “You know where the kitchen is. Mi casa es su casa and all that. Help yourself to anything you want or need. And I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He nodded, his easy acknowledgment cocooning her in warmth. “Good night. And Erin?” He held her eyes until her heart skipped a beat. “Thanks for the hospitality.”

  This wasn’t the end of a date, even if it suddenly felt like one. Ignoring the telltale rush of heat inside her, Erin cleared her throat. “No problem.”

  He smiled again, even more gratefully.

  Tingling, she forced herself to turn away and head for the stairs. She was halfway to the second-floor landing when everything suddenly went dark.

  * * *

  MAC HAD THOUGHT the evening could hold no more surprises. Just showed how little he knew.

  “Mac?” Erin’s soft voice came out of the pitch-black interior of the sprawling ranch house.

  He pushed away the notion that she could easily become something to him. “Yeah?”

  “Need a flashlight?” she asked.

  “It would help.”

  Damn, but it was black out here, with the rain still teeming down outside. No light whatsoever, anywhere, not even a distant flash of lightning. Mac put his hands out in front of him, wishing for night-vision goggles, and trying to feel his way.

  “Where are you?” Erin’s voice sounded closer.

  Good question. “Somewhere between the foyer and the middle of the living room,” he replied, hoping that Heather—and the other kids—would sleep through this. He didn’t want his daughter in another meltdown.

  “Stay where you are,” Erin advised calmly. “I’ll come and get you.”

  “So, is this one of those rolling brownouts I’ve been hearing about?”

  “Given the fact we’ve had no lightning in the immediate area, I’d have to guess yes.”

  The only upside of this situation was the sensuality of hearing her voice in the darkness, so soft and sweet and helpful. Mac had always loved a woman who was good in an emergency. He exhaled. “If that’s what this is, how long is it going to last?”

  “Thirty minutes.” As Erin’s voice came closer, he inhaled a drift of lilac perfume. “Maybe more. Maybe less.” Without warning, her palm hit him in the center of his chest.

  He savored her body heat. “And now you’ve found me.”

  “Sorry.” She dropped her hand, stepped back.

  He still couldn’t see her, but he could hear the uneven meter of her breathing. His body tensing with need, he inhaled the flowery fragrance of her skin and hair. He had to rein in his fantasies here. “Now what?”

  “The flashlights are in the kitchen.”

  Mac figured it would be better not to crash into anything else, especially something—or someone—soft and feminine and incredibly enticing. “Lead the way.”

  She touched his chest again, tentatively this time. “Take my hand.”

  He was glad she didn’t grope for his palm, given the difference in their heights. No telling what she might have found.

  He wrapped his hand around hers and fell into step behind her, or tried to. They hadn’t gone more than five paces when she bumped into something and stumbled back into him, knocking him off balance, too. They would have fallen if he hadn’t clamped an arm across her body and caught her against him, swift and hard. Unfortunately, the difference in their heights meant his forearm landed on the soft swell of her breasts.

  His reaction was immediate. “Sorry,” he murmured quickly, loosening his grip as soon as he was sure she was steady on her feet.

  Sensing her embarrassment in the silence that followed, he said, “I didn’t mean to, uh...”

  “Touch me that way?” she finished, with a trace of humor.

  Mac winced in the darkness. “Right.”
<
br />   Unfortunately, now he knew how warm and womanly her breasts felt. The memory would stay with him, probably all night. He shifted, trying to ease the pressure at the front of his jeans.

  “Put your hand out and take mine,” she commanded.

  When their fingers reconnected, he could feel the heat in her skin. “Let’s keep going,” she directed. “We’re almost there.”

  Mac sucked in a breath. “I’m right behind you.”

  They moved forward, Erin holding on to him with one hand, feeling her way forward with the other. Eventually, they made it down the hallway to the kitchen. She let go of him, and opened a drawer.

  Mac listened as she rummaged through the contents, muttering in dismay.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Erin groaned. “The flashlights aren’t here! The boys must have taken them to play with.”

  “So now what?”

  Exasperated, she laid out their options. “Stay here in the kitchen and try and feel our way to the chairs at the table? Go back to the living room and wait it out there? Or try to make it up the stairs to bed. Without crashing into something and waking the entire household?”

  “Those are our only options?”

  She huffed. “Unless you can think of something else to do.”

  Actually, Mac could. Not, he reminded himself sternly, that making a pass at her was one of the options...

  This was a business situation.

  Or at least it had been...until they had started sharing personal stories and whiling away the time together.

  Then it had become something else.

  Something a lot more...treacherous.

  Erin groaned and let out a nervous laugh. “Forget I said that.”

  The gentlemanly side of Mac knew he should. Only trouble was, he wasn’t feeling particularly chivalrous right now. He was feeling...turned on. And she was, too, otherwise her mind wouldn’t have gone in the exact same direction his had.

  The direction that would land them in each other’s arms.

  “Actually,” Mac said gruffly, turning toward her and gathering her closer, “I don’t think I will.”

  Then, going on instinct, he slowly lowered his head.

  * * *