# Barefoot Blue Jean Night

Debbi Rawlins

Destination: Sundance Dude Ranch – Blackfoot Falls, Montana Activities: Horseback riding, rodeos, guided hikes…and lots of cowboy action!The moment she sees the ad for Sundance Dude Ranch – featuring the rugged McAllister brothers – travel blogger Jamie Daniels can’t resist booking. After all, a week of fresh air and scenery will do her good…especially if that scenery includes Cole McAllister’s very fine backside!Cole’s not thrilled about playing host to hordes of ogling women. But when he’s persuaded into showing Jamie the ropes, his reluctance is conspicuously absent. In fact, there’s nothing he’d like more than giving Jamie a cowboy experience she won’t ever forget…

Can’t get enough cowboys?

Popular Mills & Boon® Blaze® author Debbie Rawlins takes readers on a great ride with her new miniseries

MADE IN MONTANA

The little town of Blackfoot Falls hasn’t seen

this much action since … well, ever.

Stay up till dawn with

Barefoot Blue Jean Night

(October 2012)

Own the Night

(December 2012)

On a Snowy Christmas Night

(January 2013)

And remember, the sexiest cowboys

are Made in Montana!

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Blackfoot Falls, Montana, home of the Sundance ranch and the rough-and-tumble McAllister clan. This is the first book in my MADE IN MONTANA series, which brings me back to the romantic world of the cowboy and the beauty of the American West.

I’ve always loved movies and books set in the West. Once in a while, Hollywood makes a Western and I’m first in line for a ticket. And I love making up my own stories, especially since I get to customize the heroes.

In Barefoot Blue Jean Night, you’ll meet Cole McAllister, the eldest of three brothers—and definitely the strong silent type. To tell you the truth, I had trouble sharing him. I wanted to keep him for myself. But hopefully heroine Jamie Daniels and you all will appreciate him as much as I do.

Happy reading!

Debbi Rawlins

## About the Author

DEBBI RAWLINS lives in central Utah, out in the country, surrounded by woods and deer and wild turkeys. It’s quite a change for a city girl who didn’t even know where the state of Utah was until a few years ago. Of course, unfamiliarity has never stopped her. Between her junior and senior years of college, she spontaneously left her home in Hawaii and bummed around Europe for five weeks by herself. And much to her parents’ delight, returned home with only a quarter in her wallet.

Barefoot Blue Jean Night

Debbi Rawlins


www.millsandboon.co.uk

This is for Laura Barth.

Thank you for your support, encouragement and hard work.

You rock!

## 1

“EASE UP, BOY.” Pulling on the reins of his horse, Cole McAllister squinted across a thousand acres of McAllister land at the late June sun sinking toward the soaring Rockies. He never wore a watch, didn’t need to. The sun’s position in the blue Montana sky told him he had just enough time to ride home and grab a shower before his sister arrived. The party would have already started, but he didn’t care about missing any of the festivities. A quiet family dinner would have been his choice to celebrate Rachel’s return after finishing graduate school.

He was excited to have his only sister back, equally pleased not to have to come up with more tuition money. The family ranch was officially operating on fumes. No one knew how desperately they needed cash but him. Both his brothers had some idea of the trouble they faced, Jesse more than Trace. After Jesse’s two tours in Afghanistan, Cole got the feeling he didn’t miss much.

Trace was still young, only twenty-six and most concerned with how soon he could trade in his pickup for a newer model. It wasn’t that Cole had tried to hide anything—though the boys had agreed not to burden their mother or Rachel—but each month the economy just kept sliding further downhill, sinking them deeper into the hole.

Beef consumption was down, fuel and grain prices up. Any number of reasons accounted for their predicament, and they weren’t alone. Most of the other ranches around Blackfoot Falls were in debt and disrepair, yet Cole still felt responsible. For six generations the Sundance had been passed from eldest son to eldest son and despite droughts and land disputes, recessions and wars, the McAllisters had survived on wits and grit. Cole would be damned if he’d be the first to go begging.

Bad enough that when some of the smaller ranches had started to buckle, men Cole had known his whole life had lost their jobs and come to him. Oh, he’d had work for them, but no means to pay them. That he had to turn them away about broke him in two. But it was all he could do to keep from laying off his own hands—some of them had hired on with his dad and were building fences and rounding up cattle before he was born.

They’d been there eleven years ago to console the family the day Cole’s father had lost his final battle with cancer. They were the same men who’d loved and respected the formidable but fair Gavin McAllister as if he were their own kin, and they suffered his loss in the same way.

That hadn’t stopped a single one of them from stepping in to give Cole a leg up in managing the three-thousand-acre cattle ranch. He’d turned twenty-one the week before, too young to fill his father’s impressive boots. But it wasn’t as if he’d had a choice. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have changed anything. He’d been proud to pick up the reins, scared spitless but willing and honored. Who knew he’d bring the family to this?

He exhaled slowly, took a final long look at the land, dotted by the last vestiges of wildflowers—field daisies and pink columbine barely able to hang on this late in summer and only because of the altitude. The thought that they’d have to sell even a square foot of McAllister land twisted his gut in raw disgust that even his horse seemed to feel. Tango reared up. Cole tugged on the reins and leaned over to soothingly stroke the gelding’s neck.

“Hey, buddy. Rachel’s coming home today. You’ll be happy to see her.” He wheeled Tango around and since the horse had been watered and rested, Cole nudged him into a gallop. He took off, at one with the stiff, warm breeze.

They wove through the aspens until they broke out into the open meadow and raced across the tall thick grass, the sun fierce on Cole’s back. He didn’t slow them down until he saw a pair of veteran hands working along the fenceline, and he waved for them to return to the ranch so they could enjoy the barbecue. The crazy old fools would work till sundown if he didn’t stop them. That’s what made the situation so damn hard. Everyone from Chester, the bunkhouse cook, to the last hired wrangler took pride in the Sundance as if it were his own. If it came down to layoffs …

Cole could barely think in that direction. There would be no choice at that point. He’d have to auction off some of the land. Hell, what was he thinking? There’d be no auction. Wallace Gunderson would be the first one muddying up the McAllister porch, pen and checkbook in hand. Not only was he the sole person with that kind of money around here, but the old man had lusted after the hilly creek-fed McAllister spread for as long as Cole could remember.

Even when Cole’s father was alive, Gunderson had put a sizeable offer on the table for the north pasture that butted up to his land. That was one of two times Cole had seen his father lose his temper. He’d nearly thrown the man and his son out of the McAllister kitchen. Of course, it was no secret to anyone who lived within a hundred miles that the McAllisters and the Gundersons hadn’t gotten along for over four generations. Cole wasn’t sure if anyone recalled what had started the feud. Didn’t matter. If and when the time came to sell, he’d sooner rob a bank than deed so much as a square inch to Wallace. Cole’s dislike for the man had nothing to do with the family history. He simply couldn’t abide the bastard’s mistreatment of his animals.

The bunkhouse and barn came into view, made hazy by the plumes of gray smoke drifting up from the rows of barbecue pits. Chester had started early this morning, baking corn bread and preparing the chicken and ribs for this evening’s bash. As Cole rode toward the stables, he saw the groups of picnic tables set up closer to the main house. A couple had been placed near the bunkhouse kitchen. White lights had been strung up around the pine trees and along the corral fence, and a rainbow of balloons bobbed from the posts.

He didn’t see his brother’s Jeep so Cole knew Jesse hadn’t returned from the airport with Rachel yet. Some of the neighbors were already here. He recognized the two black-and-red trucks parked along the gravel driveway, and noticed that the Richardson brood and Ida and Henry Pickens were climbing out of their pickups on the other side of the barn. He didn’t know how many people his mother had invited, over fifty he’d reckon. And that wasn’t counting the hands—most of them had been as much a part of Rachel’s life as Cole and his brothers.

If Cole hadn’t stepped in, there would have been a much larger crowd. The shocked expression on his mother’s face when he’d given her a budget remained vivid in his mind. What had stung even more was the sad, resigned nod that told him she suspected they were in trouble. Still, she hadn’t asked for details, hadn’t given him so much as a glance of disapproval or a hint of disappointment. Being the gracious lady she’d always been, she’d simply smiled and said how happy she would be to have Rachel home again, and that was all that mattered.

His sister would be a whole different story. She’d take one look at the barn that needed painting, the corral fence that should’ve been replaced by now and all the other areas he’d been forced to ignore, and she’d have questions, demand answers. He wouldn’t blame her one bit. Didn’t mean he’d welcome the inquisition.

SHORTLY AFTER TEN, the last of the guests started to leave. Cole normally would be getting into the sack by now since he routinely awoke at five every day, but throughout the evening he’d caught Rachel’s questioning looks enough to know that she wouldn’t wait until morning to give him the third degree.

Fighting the temptation to go help his brothers clear the tables, he stayed near the house, leaning on the clothesline post. He watched her tug a lock of Johnny Weaver’s strawberry-blond hair. The boy stopped yawning long enough to give her a toothless grin.

“Time for someone to go to bed,” she said, raising her brows when the youngster opened his mouth in protest.

Instead of arguing, Johnny yawned again.

His mother, Peggy, smiled at Rachel, then gave her a quick hug. “Good to have you back. You’ll have to come for supper once you get settled.”

“I’ll do that.” Rachel handed over the plate of leftover corn bread, chicken and chocolate cake she’d wrapped for Peggy to take, then swooped down and kissed the boy’s cheek. He turned beet-red, but there was that grin again.

Cole nodded his goodbye to the Weavers and waited while Rachel walked them toward the driveway. She’d make a great mother some day. He knew that a family of her own was what she wanted eventually, but in the meantime, he had no doubt her focus would be on him and the Sundance.

He stared up at the clear summer sky filled with stars, remembering how as a kid he’d lain on his back deep in the grass, hands clasped behind his head, gazing up at those very same stars making wishes that had rarely come true. Hadn’t stopped him though. Especially after Lizzie Adams had finally laid a wet one on his mouth for a full three seconds. The unexpected memory made him smile.

The moment faded, and he wondered what had happened to that bright-eyed, optimistic young boy. Reality, bills, droughts, payroll … that’s what had happened. And now Rachel, the little spitfire. The only girl and the youngest, but she was a force to be reckoned with, all right.

As soon as the Weavers’ taillights burned red in the darkness, she walked purposefully toward him. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Jesse and Trace had stopped collecting the platters and bowls from the tables, as if waiting for the fireworks. Hell, had she already said something to them? Or had he been fooling himself about how much they knew of the family’s trouble?

“Can I talk to you in your office for a minute?” Rachel asked, glancing over at their mother who paid them no attention as she helped Chester store the leftovers.

“Yep.” Cole pushed off the post. “Looks like we might have company,” he said, gesturing with his chin at his approaching brothers.

Jesse and Trace tried to make it look as if it was a coincidence that they were carrying the platters of food to the kitchen at that particular moment, but Cole knew otherwise. He didn’t care. Better that they were included, and he could get this over with.

They all went inside and, after the brothers deposited their platters in the kitchen, they all headed for the office. Jesse claimed the brown leather couch, while Trace stretched his tall lanky body on the extra office chair that likely should’ve been tossed out years ago. Cole closed the door, not surprised that Rachel had chosen to stand. While he and his brothers all exceeded six feet, like every McAllister man before them, Rachel took after their mother, with her auburn hair, green eyes and petite frame. From early on she’d preferred to even her odds by standing over her brothers whenever they had a family meeting.

Cole obliged her by sinking into his chair behind the desk, then laid his head back on the black leather headrest. Might as well get comfortable. Rachel was like a dog with a bone once she set her mind on something, and she’d say her piece even if it took until midnight.

She met Cole’s eyes. “What’s going on?”

“You wanna be more specific?”

“This place …” She waved a hand, her gaze darting to the window. “It looks like hell.”

“Nice, Rach.” Trace snorted. “It’s not as though we’ve been sitting around on our asses.”

“That’s not what I mean.” She glared at Trace.

Cole and Jesse exchanged weary glances. Typically one of them would end up refereeing the pair of younger hotheads, but before the discussion heated up, Cole said, “Look, money’s been tight. Cosmetics aren’t a priority right now.”

“I don’t understand …” Rachel shook her head. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah, the economy dove nose-first down a sinkhole.” Trace gave a helpless shrug. “We’re not the only ones having trouble. I heard tonight that the Circle Four is filing for bankruptcy. Damn shame.”

Cole scrubbed a hand over his face. He’d heard the news last week and decided to keep it to himself. No need to cause panic.

“Bankruptcy?” Rachel’s eyes widened. When she moved to sit on the couch with Jesse, he reached over and rubbed her shoulder. “I don’t think anyone around here has ever gone broke before. Do you think it’s true?” she asked, her frightened gaze finding Cole.

“I wouldn’t doubt it. The cost of shipping beef has put a drain on all of us. Expenses keep going up.” Cole inhaled. “At least we haven’t laid off anyone yet. Just about everyone else in the county has.”

“Yet,” Rachel murmured, her face growing pale. “How bad is it?” she asked. “For us, I mean.”

Cole’s insides twisted. No more hiding, no more whitewashing the truth. Even if he wanted to, the bank ledger would call him a liar. “Bad. Real bad.”

Trace abruptly turned his head, directed a probing look at Jesse, who remained impassive. He was a lot like Cole in that he kept his emotions in check, everything else close to the vest and spoke sparingly. After his discharge from the air force, Jesse had become even more circumspect.

Rachel’s voice was shaky when she asked, “Does Mom know?”

“We haven’t had any discussions, but she’s not a stupid woman. I’m sure she’s noticed the same things you have.” Cole sighed. “Hell, the whole place needs improvements. So far, I’ve been able to keep the creditors off my back, but I can only trade on our reputation for so long.”

“It’s not fair to hide the problem from her.”

At the hint of accusation in her tone, Jesse jumped in. “We’re not hiding, just trying to survive. Why point out the obvious with no solution in sight?” He looked pointedly at Cole. “Creditors are on our backs, too, bro. This isn’t only your problem. We all have a stake here.”

Cole rubbed his jaw. Sure they all had a stake, that’s why he felt so damn guilty. Because the responsibility to make the place profitable was his alone.

Trace fidgeted, loosening the collar of his blue Western-cut shirt. What the hell was he looking guilty about? This wasn’t his fault. Not just because he was still young. Maybe he was feeling sheepish for not understanding the depth of their problem. But the failure of the ranch was on Cole, always had been. He didn’t deny it.

He shifted to find Jesse staring grimly at him. “Jesus, you think you’re to blame?” Jesse shook his head in disbelief. “You arrogant bastard.”

“Screw you. You know Dad left—”

“Stop it.” Rachel stared at them in equal measure. “What’s wrong with you two?”

Cole just smiled. This was his and Jesse’s way of keeping each other in check. They didn’t mean anything. Rachel must’ve forgotten. She didn’t relax her clenched fists until Jesse grunted out a laugh.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Okay, you two Neanderthals, here’s the thing. I understand the economy sucks, but I don’t buy that there’s no solution.” She paused, and no one seemed eager to end the silence. Hunching her shoulders, she seemed to crawl into herself. “Oh, God, I spent all that money on graduate school … You should’ve told me.”

“Come on,” Cole said. “Knock that off.”

Jesse elbowed her. “I used money for school, too.”

“Those were the old days when we could afford it.”

“Old days, huh?” Jesse looped an arm around her neck and mussed her hair. “You little squirt.”

“You know what I mean.” She shoved him until he released her from the headlock.

Cole wouldn’t argue the age issue. At thirty-two he felt older than dirt. Jesse was only a year younger, but Cole suspected his brother had already seen more than most men saw in a lifetime.

Rachel set her sights on Trace. “Was the lack of money the reason you chose not to go to college?” she asked, her voice soft and miserable.

“No.” He made a face. “I hate classrooms and staying indoors all day. You know that.” He plowed a hand through his longish dark hair. “I’m sorry, Cole, I knew we were postponing repairs and holding on to equipment, but I guess I didn’t want to see how bad it was. Bet you wanted to kick me to next Sunday when I asked for a new truck a few months back.”

Cole shook his head. “You’re twenty-six. ‘Course you want a new truck.”

“Okay …” Rachel straightened. “So let’s talk about what we need to do to get back on our feet.”

Cole smiled patiently at the family optimist. “It’s not that simple. Too many factors are out of our control.”

“Such as?”

“High diesel-fuel costs, consumers’ shrinking grocery budgets. Corn has gone way up because so much of the crop is going for ethanol …” He continued while she listened intently, nodding occasionally and not once interrupting.

His speech went on longer than he’d intended, maybe because it felt good to release some of the pressure, but he cut himself off when he saw the depressed expression on Trace’s face. Jesse had slumped deeper into the couch and stared at his boots. Only Rachel looked unbowed. She sat forward, her green eyes sparkling and ready to do battle.

“I have an idea—” she said thoughtfully “—that just might solve our problems … at least in the short term … and who knows, maybe for the long term, as well.”

Cole tamped down his amusement. Although he was all for her participation, she was about to learn there was no easy answer. “What’s that?”

“Don’t say anything until I’m finished because it won’t cost much to get started—”

“Rachel, wait, stop. We don’t have any money. I don’t know how to say it more plainly.”

She put up her hands. “Hear me out.”

“All right,” Cole said, his jaw clenched. Jesus, he’d thought it was a kindness to spare the women useless worry. Obviously he was wrong. Rachel couldn’t seem to process the ugly truth.

“I’ve had this thought for a while, a couple of years really—ever since my sorority sisters went all gaga over the pictures of the Sundance on my screen saver slide show.” A big smile stretched across her flushed face. “What would you think about starting a dude ranch?”

Thunderstruck, Cole and Jesse stared at her.

Trace snorted. “A what?”

“A dude ranch. You know … kind of like a big bed-and-breakfast where people come for vacation and go on trail rides and watch rodeos, have cookouts, go white-water rafting and—”

“I understand what a dude ranch is,” Trace said with disgust. “I’m trying to figure out if you’ve gone loco.”

Rachel pressed her lips together, and then calmly said, “I’m not surprised at your reaction.” She looked from Trace to Cole to Jesse. “But we have plenty of extra room we don’t even use, a whole separate wing of the house, in fact, and there won’t be much start-up cost because we already have everything right here.”

“This is a cattle ranch,” Cole said quietly, even though he was with Trace; their sister was nuts. “We don’t know the first thing about catering to folks used to living with conveniences, and we can’t afford the extra help.”

“Mom, Hilda and I can take care of the rooms and meals. Trace and the hands can take turns providing the outings,” she said, and Trace groaned, then muttered an oath. Without missing a beat, Rachel continued, “I’ll do all the advertising and bookings online, which will cost next to nothing, and I’ll design the website. I’m very good at it. We might even be able to attract sponsors to help cover costs.”

Cole shook his head. “The place needs painting, we’ll need insurance and trying to sidestep kids running around will only—”

Trace grunted. “I like kids well enough, but city folk don’t seem to get it—they’ll be underfoot while we’re trying to work….”

“How about we don’t accept kids?” Rachel said. “Maybe later we’ll expand to families, but for now I’m thinking we should cater to single women. They’d be much simpler to accommodate. Plus I know how to push all the right buttons to have them lining up to make a reservation.”

“Shit, you’re out of your mind,” Jesse murmured, and Cole couldn’t even speak he was so flabbergasted.

“Hey, wait a minute.” Trace’s eyes sharpened with new interest. “Let Rachel finish.”

Her lips lifted in a triumphant smile. “I figured that way the hands wouldn’t balk too much, either.”

“No,” Cole said flatly.

His sister’s flash of disappointment transformed into a glare of pure challenge. “You have a better idea?”

Cole cleared his throat. He sure hadn’t expected this confrontation so soon. “I have one, but I figured we could do some brainstorming.”

Rachel folded her arms across her chest. “Yet you’re quick to shoot me down.”

“Your suggestion isn’t practical,” Cole said irritably. “And you know that.”

Trace shrugged. “I kind of like Rachel’s way of thinking.”

Cole and Jesse both gave him a long, blistering look.

“Well, big brother, what’s your idea?” Rachel caught and held Cole’s gaze. “We’re all listening.”

Cole breathed in deeply. “There’s a couple of hundred acres running south of the creek that we haven’t used for years. Tell you the truth, I can’t see it ever being much use to us and …”

Three pairs of wounded eyes stared at him as if he’d just committed high treason. Jesse spoke first, his voice thick with denial. “You’re not saying we should sell McAllister land.”

The door creaked open. They all turned their heads and watched their mother slowly cross the threshold. Her devastated expression erased any doubt that she’d been listening.

“No,” Cole said, the bitter taste of defeat coating the inside of his mouth. “Guess I’m not.” His gaze moved back to Rachel, who had the good grace not to smirk.

## 2

JAMIE DANIELS PICKED UP the lavender taffeta dress she’d never wear again even if she lived to be a hundred, and carried it to her closet. What had Linda been thinking when she’d chosen the frilly ruffled concoction? And for an August afternoon wedding in Los Angeles? Jamie’s jaw had about hit the floor the day her friend had marshaled her and the other two bridesmaids to the bridal shop to get their opinion.

It wasn’t as if Jamie had held back, she’d been as tactful as she knew how to be considering all three selections had been pretty horrific. Linda had wanted purple and ruffles and there’d been no getting around it. Jill and Kaylee had both tied the knot several months before and had been more zen about the whole thing. Apparently they had the same “perfect wedding” gene, where nothing, not even good taste, was allowed to alter one single piece of the dream.

Sighing, Jamie hung the lavender dress behind the other bridesmaids’ dresses at the far end of her walk-in closet. The blue one she could probably wear again to a fancy cocktail reception, but the other two she’d keep for a respectable length of time and then donate them to a worthy charity to help make some other woman’s silly dream come true.

Good God, when had she become so jaded? Just because she hadn’t given marriage a thought, it didn’t mean the wedding tradition was silly. Besides, she was happy for her two friends and her cousin Kaylee. She was. Really. She just wished she didn’t suddenly feel so damn alone.

She drew in a deep breath, a bit surprised that she’d allowed herself the admission. Of course it didn’t matter, because she’d rebound soon. She always did. She’d learned survival at an early age. Her parents were diplomats. They traveled extensively, which meant she’d traveled, changed schools, changed friends, adopted new languages, adapted to different customs. Her unconventional childhood had turned her into a chameleon.

Ironically, it was during the three years she’d been sent back to the States to live with her aunt Liz, uncle Philip and cousin Kaylee on their Georgia farm that Jamie had had the most trouble adjusting. Mainly because for the first nine years of her life she’d never been separated from her parents for more than a few days. But then the embassy where they’d worked had come under attack and before she knew it she’d been strapped into a seat on a military plane, by herself. And no amount of tears and begging had stopped her parents from sending her away.

She still remembered staring out the window as the plane ascended, watching the gray smoke rise from the city below, convinced she’d never see her mother and father again. Oh, she had seen them all right, a year later … for a mere week before they’d returned to the lion’s den. Though the fighting was over, the tensions had remained high in that part of the world and it was decided she’d stay in Georgia until they were assigned another post.

They’d done their job as parents and protected her from harm. Both of them were crazy smart with Ivy League educations, the works. But they’d failed to see that a child could suffer more than physical damage. They’d chosen their careers over her, and she’d spent three years wondering if they’d found that they preferred being childless. On her twelfth birthday they’d surprised her by showing up at the farm and whisking her away to their new post in Singapore. Two years later she was shipped off to boarding school and her relationship with them had never been the same.

Why in the world was she thinking about all this now? Maybe too much champagne at the wedding reception. She never did care for bubbly, not even the really good stuff, but she’d drunk her share of mimosas because, wow, had it been warm all afternoon.

Pulling her hair off her neck, she moved to the window and stared out at the Los Angeles skyline. She loved her condo smack-dab in the middle of West L.A., even though she wasn’t home much. When she wasn’t gallivanting about the globe, gathering interesting tidbits for her travel blog, she adored holing up for days at a time with a few pints of Häagen-Dazs, leaving only to go for a dip in the rooftop pool or for a workout in the building’s fitness club.

The trouble was, for six years, Linda, Jill and Kaylee had all lived within a five-mile radius of her. One or all three of them would pop over for lunch or lure her out for a last-minute drink at the Beverly Hilton. Now they were all married, relocated to the Valley. Well, Linda hadn’t moved yet, but it was only a matter of time.

Jolted by the sudden ache of loneliness that swept through her, Jamie pressed her forehead to the glass. Her vision blurred a little and she blinked to clear it. Now who was she going to call at one in the morning to complain about a bad date? Or to squeal over a totally hot guy that she’d met at the airport? Who would she take on trips? Sometimes Jill had gone with her to Europe or Canada, while Kaylee had preferred the Asian getaways.

Straightening, Jamie smiled, remembering the Mississippi River houseboat she’d rented for two weeks. She couldn’t recall how she’d talked Linda into that fiasco but, man, had they laughed … so hard sometimes that it hurt. Amazing they’d both survived their ineptness on the water. But in the end they’d agreed they’d had a fabulous time seeing parts of the South they never would’ve seen otherwise, meeting incredible people, eating ridiculously yummy deep-fried food she’d never dreamed would touch her lips.

That particular adventure had elevated her blog to the million-hits level. After that her numbers kept climbing and she’d attracted enough paying advertisers to carve out a nice niche for herself. Only twenty-eight and living the dream. She couldn’t ask for more….

Dammit, she wanted her friends back.

Yeah, she knew she was being a whiny baby, but tough. The girls were more than friends, they’d become her family. Her parents still lived in Europe, and Aunt Liz and Uncle Philip had been great to her, always welcoming her for holidays, or anytime. But her buddies had been her sounding board, the place she’d turned for advice or when she’d needed a shoulder to sob on since freshman year of college. Kaylee was a year younger but she and Jamie had grown so close that she’d followed Jamie to UCLA.

Jamie rubbed her eyes, wishing she were more tired. Sleep would erase some of the edginess. Turning from the window, her gaze went to the handmade mahogany clock she’d picked up in Indonesia last year. Bad enough it was only midnight … she’d been back from Hawaii for three days and hadn’t completely adjusted to the time difference.

Work. That was the escape she needed. Anyway, her blog post was due tomorrow. Unfortunately her next trip wasn’t scheduled for another three weeks. Stupid move on her part. She should’ve foreseen tonight.

Jill had married first, and as soon as the reception was over, Kaylee, Linda and Jamie had headed for the closest bar and gotten tipsy while they retold college dating stories and mourned the passing of their old life. A few months later a former boyfriend of Kaylee’s had shown up. Within weeks he’d shocked everyone by popping the question. Kaylee’s answer had been twice as shocking. Dan had never been on Jamie’s short list of favorite people, or long list for that matter, but she sucked up her disappointment and put on a happy face for her cousin’s sake.

Then it was just Jamie and Linda drinking at the Crown and haggling over where to eat or what movie to see when Jamie was in town.

And now …

She exhaled sharply and quickly flipped open her laptop. She distracted herself by checking comments on her blog, catching up on Twitter and replying to her mother’s perfunctory bi-monthly email. About to tackle tomorrow’s blog post, she noticed the banner ad for the Sundance Dude Ranch in Blackfoot Falls, Montana.

A dude ranch. One of her regular readers had mentioned something about a dude ranch just last week. It wasn’t this ranch, but there was something about the ad that caught Jamie’s attention.

“Huh.”

She clicked on the website link and immediately clear blue sky, gorgeous mountains and tall Douglas firs flooded the screen. In the foreground was a large three-story log-style house with a wraparound porch complete with a swing and rocking chairs. So peaceful and homey-looking. Kind of reminded her of her aunt and uncle’s peanut farm.

Why hadn’t she tried a dude ranch before? It was different from anything she’d done, and she’d never been to Montana, although she’d heard it was beautiful country. Her readers would love it.

Leaning way back in her comfy office chair, she smiled and got busy clicking. She learned that it was a working ranch owned by the McAllister family since the late 1800s, then she checked out pictures of the adjacent national forest and wilderness area and skimmed the list of activities. She already knew how to ride pretty well and she’d gone white-water rafting twice. But there were other things that caught her interest, like rodeos, guided hikes, overnight pack trips, cattle driving and …

And them.

She bolted upright, causing her chair to roll backward on the bamboo floor mat. Grabbing the edge of her desk, she pulled herself in, then peered closer at the rugged-looking, dark-haired cowboys sitting on great big horses. Squinting, she hoped for a better look at their faces. Which was absurd, but it didn’t stop her from trying.

Holy crap, Cole McAllister was friggin’ hot. With his wide shoulders, long lean legs and brooding expression, the man was a wet dream. Jesse McAllister, with his Stetson pulled low, had the smoldering thing down pat. Oh, and she had brother Trace pegged in a flash, despite the lack of detail in the photograph. He was a hottie who knew it, and wasn’t in the market for taming.

Brilliant ad, really. The bad-boys-of-the-West image against the blue sky and snowcapped mountains, so innately gorgeous in those worn jeans and Western shirts they fulfilled every single cowboy fantasy in the book. Jamie would be shocked if the dude ranch wasn’t sold out for the first six months.

But, she was still going to try to get in. The sooner the better. Even though the ranch had been around forever, opening up for guests was a new business for the family. Tomorrow started their second week of operation.

She clicked on the calendar, saw there were two available bookings left, and got out her credit card. Oh, boy, her readers were going to love those cowboys. Hell, she was halfway there herself.

CALM AS COULD BE, Rachel was setting a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of cookies on the porch table as Cole rode up to the house. What in the Sam Hill was she up to? He’d received an urgent text from her while riding the east fence and had ridden hard for nearly twenty minutes to get here.

“Is Mom okay?” he asked, swinging off Tango and jumping to the ground.

“What?” Rachel frowned briefly. “Oh, she’s fine.”

A female guest chose that moment to walk out the front door, and Cole groaned to himself. He’d done everything he could, short of working twenty-four-hour days, to stay away from the place since the first group of guests had arrived twelve days ago. Eight altogether, all of them women. Jesus. The hands were barely getting their chores done.

“Afternoon, ma’am,” he said politely, touching the brim of his hat. She gave him a flirty smile, and he turned back to his sister, not bothering to hide his irritation.

She missed it, too busy showing all her teeth to the guest. “Hi, Kim.” Rachel gestured toward the barn. “Dutchy and the rest of the girls are waiting for you to join them on a trail ride.”

The woman lingered a moment, and Cole could feel her gaze on him, but he’d enter the house with his dusty boots on before he gave her an opening. She finally pushed on, the impractical heels of her city boots clicking down the wooden steps.

He knew the instant he was safe from the blonde but not from his sister.

Rachel lost her smile and glared at him. “You have to start being nicer to these women,” she said in an angry murmur.

“I don’t have to do anything.” He’d given in enough, even helped freshen up the porch with a coat of redwood stain, scraped up enough money to spruce up the barn and kept his mouth shut when Rachel had ordered a wagonload of flowers for the rock beds. “If I wasn’t pleasant enough for you, then don’t drag me back in the middle of the damn afternoon. What did you want, anyway?”

“Do you know how much money we’ve taken in for deposits?”

Yeah, it had barely covered the cost to ready the place. Grunting, he helped himself to a glass and the pitcher of lemonade.

“No, that’s for our guests.” She snatched both out of his hands. “We have six arrivals in the next hour.”

Cole looked up at the ceiling in disgust, noticed a spot he’d missed in his all-fired hurry for the opening day. “Lord, give me patience.”

“You’d do well to pray a little harder.” Rachel offered him a cookie on a small, fancy pink napkin and gave him one of those sneaky smiles that said she wanted something.

He put up his hands, backed away from her. “No.”

“You love oatmeal raisin.”

“No to whatever it is you’re gonna ask me.”

She grabbed his forearm and slapped the cookie onto his palm. “Jamie Daniels is arriving any minute. She’s a very popular travel blogger and we’re damn lucky to have her. If she likes this place, business will boom. I want you here with me to greet her.”

Cole barked out a laugh, shook his head and glanced toward the driveway. No dust coming from the road. He was still safe. Maybe even had enough time to run in for a drink of water and grab a sandwich before he lit out for the north pasture.

“Don’t you dare.”

“What?”

“I know that look. You’re planning your escape.” Rachel’s lower lip jutted out in that annoying sulk. She was his baby sister and sometimes it was hard saying no to her. “I’ve put a lot of time and effort into making this dude ranch work. Can I get a little help here?”

He stared at her, not sure if he was disappointed, surprised or just plain angry. Sighing, he removed his hat and used the back of his sleeve to wipe his forehead.

“Oh, Cole.” Rachel briefly covered her mouth. “What a horrible thing for me to say. You’ve given your whole life to this place. No one has worked harder than you, not even Jesse, and certainly not me or Trace.”

“Enough.” He squinted toward the midafternoon sun. “I’m going inside to wash up a bit, get something to eat. Maybe I’ll still be around when your guest arrives.”

JAMIE HAD OBVIOUSLY made a wrong turn. Odd, because she was good with maps, but she should’ve gotten to the Sundance by now. With a surge of gratitude, she steered the rental car into the gas station that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Wow, did she have to pee. After that she’d get directions. She had to be close to the ranch but after miles and miles of nothing but blue sky and distant mountains, she wasn’t willing to trust herself, the map or the car’s useless navigation system.

As much as she despised gas-station restrooms—and this one looked like something out of the 1930s—she was in no position to be picky, so she coasted around to the side until she spotted a sign. She hurriedly got out of the car, grabbing her purse and keys.

The bathroom door was locked.

“Dammit.” What the hell … Were they afraid someone would break in and clean it?

She tried not even to breathe as she went around to the front. No sign of life. Two parked trucks, though. Someone had to be around. She couldn’t see through the window or past the ads for jerky and different soft drinks plastered to the glass. The doorknob looked grimy, but she was saved from having to touch it when the door abruptly flew open.

“Looking for this?” A young man, late teens, grinning, held up a hoop with a key dangling from it.

“Thank you,” she said, unceremoniously grabbing it and hurrying back to the restroom.

One stall, unisex, could be cleaner, but she didn’t care at this point. With the tissues she kept in her purse, she covered the seat, did her business, then, while she washed her hands, stared glumly into the cloudy wall mirror barely larger than an index card. She was a mess. Too little sleep the past few nights and then today … getting here had been a nightmare. Two flights, an hour-and-a-half layover, then another hour-plus of driving.

She shook out her wet hands, deciding to use the car mirror to touch up her eye makeup and lip gloss. As soon as she stepped outside, she saw a thin older man wearing dirty coveralls circling the rental car, and appearing far too interested in the luggage she’d thrown on the backseat.

“May I help you?” she asked, hitching her purse strap up securely on her shoulder.

He raised his piercing gaze to her face, his dark brows pulled together in a suspicious frown. “Where you headed?”

She hesitated, tempted to say something about his bad manners. But the lanky young man who’d given her the key rounded the corner of the building just in time.

“Thank you,” she said, returning the key. “Are the pumps self-serve?”

“Pull your car up and I’ll take care of it for you, ma’am.” He smiled, then studiously eyed the other man. “Got your tires ordered, Avery. They should be in next Friday.”

The older man ignored him, his interest still firmly planted on her. “Didn’t catch where you’re headed.”

Jamie sighed and opened the car door. She was going to ask for directions anyway. Besides, the kid knew him. “The Sundance. Do you know where it is?”

He moved his head to the side and spat on the pavement.

She just smiled. If he’d intended to gross her out she had news for him. There were still restaurants on the other side of the world where men used spittoons. “Was that a no?”

“Don’t mind him. I’m Billy,” the teenager said, grinning. “You’re looking for the McAllisters’ new dude ranch.”

“I am.”

“Stay on the road for another five miles. You’ll see a sign for Blackfoot Falls. Take the next left after that. The road’s not so good but you’ll do fine.”

Billy had already started backing toward the pumps so she closed her door, then pulled the compact around the building. She ignored Avery except for a brief glance in the rearview mirror. He followed close behind, but she wasn’t so much afraid as annoyed. The old-timer probably didn’t like tourists. Nothing new there, either. There was always someone fighting the idea of strangers poking around.

She parked and lowered her window. Billy confirmed that she wanted the medium-grade gas, then started topping off her tank, which didn’t require much, but she had used their restroom after all.

“Hey, Billy? Got a question for you.”

He looked up. “Ma’am?”

“My name is Jamie, by the way. Are there any other dude ranches in the area?”

“Nope. This is the first. Only been open a week so we haven’t seen many visitors yet. Heard they’re taking on people clear through the fall, though.”

From behind her, Avery muttered a curse.

Jamie jumped because she hadn’t realized he’d been standing near the compact’s bumper.

“Don’t mind him. He just don’t like strangers.” Billy shot the man a look of disgust. “Pretty sorry thing when I gotta remind my elder to mind his manners.”

“No good is gonna come of that dude ranch business, I tell ya,” Avery grumbled. “This is cattle country. Always was, always will be. We’ve had hard times before and we rode it out. You youngsters are too damn impatient.” He spat again and then ambled toward a dusty dark green pickup.

Shaking his head, Billy pulled the nozzle out of the tank and returned it to the pump. “He’s not the only one upset with the McAllisters.” He took a rag from his back pocket and wiped his hands. “That’ll be nine dollars even.”

“Why?” Jamie passed him a ten, motioned for him to keep the change.

He blinked, not looking eager to volunteer more information. Finally shrugging, he said, “Some folks feel like Avery. They don’t want outsiders poking around. The other half hopes it’ll bring business to the town and no more stores will have to shut down.”

She gave him a reassuring smile. “Everyone is having problems. I travel for a living and it’s not pretty out there.”

“Yeah, I know, but the McAllisters … they’re like … let’s just say everyone was kinda shocked when Cole had to turn away help.” Billy chuckled. “Though not as shocked as when they found out Rachel had talked him into the dude ranch.”

“Rachel … the sister, right?”

Billy’s smile faded, and he flushed. “I shouldn’t be talkin’ about the McAllisters,” he mumbled. “They’re good people. The best.” He backed away. “You have a nice time over there.”

“I will.” She smiled, then pulled back onto the highway.

She found the sign to Blackfoot Falls with no problem and turned onto the road, which after a couple of miles went from rutting pavement to rough gravel. Obviously the dude ranch idea was a recent one or they might have done something about this road. She didn’t care, though, especially when she saw the overhead iron sign strung between two poles, announcing the Sundance.

Jamie turned onto yet another gravel road, and the spectacular view of the Rockies in the background nearly stole her breath. Knowing she was on the right track, she looked her fill. Within minutes she saw a group of buildings, several trucks … As she got closer, she noticed three women, one of them wearing a pink sundress, laughing with a couple of cowboys.

She squinted to see if she recognized any of the brothers, but it was dusty and her gaze got caught on the sprawling house itself. It was beautiful, huge and looked exactly like the pictures in the online brochure. But it was the tall, lean cowboy standing near the porch that had her heart doing a cartwheel.

## 3

“I THINK IT’S HER because everyone else booked in pairs,” Rachel said, trying to look casual as the small red Ford nosed its way toward the house. She elbowed Cole in the ribs. “So don’t be rude.”

Cole glanced at his sister. “When have you ever known me to be rude?”

“At the harvest dance five years ago when Maggie Johnson pinched your ass.”

“That was self-defense.”

Rachel chuckled. “She thought she was going to marry you.”

“Where the hell did she get that idea?” He tugged down the rim of his hat so he could look without the lady knowing he was eyeing her. No sense her getting any wrong ideas right out of the chute. Only natural he was curious. Quite an assortment of young ladies had been parading around the ranch for the past week. Some real pretty, but most of them kind of silly.

“Mmm, might have been me.”

He turned from watching the Daniels woman park her car and stared at his sister. “You better be joking.”

“We were fourteen when I told her that. She should’ve gotten over it by then and married Paul Haas,” Rachel muttered, and walked toward the car.

Cole stayed where he was, able to get only a vague glimpse of the new guest through her car’s tinted-glass windows. The driver’s door opened, and she climbed out, the sun catching the gold in her tawny hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail.

The open door blocked a good part of his view as she shook hands with Rachel. She matched his sister’s height of about five-five, and he could see the woman had a pleasing profile and the good sense to wear jeans. Boots, too, worn ones—not the impractical high-heeled pointy kind so many of the guests had shown up wearing.

Rachel indicated the parking area on the east side of the barn, and the woman lifted her hand to shade her eyes. No flash of some god-awful color on her fingernails. Already she’d risen in his esteem, but that didn’t mean he’d offer more than this meet-and-greet. He’d made it clear from the get-go. The dude ranch was Rachel’s baby. He had better things to do.

Stepping away from the car, Rachel waved him over. His reluctance ebbed when she motioned to the trunk and he realized she wanted his help carrying in luggage. Adjusting his hat, he strolled over, wishing he’d changed his dusty blue work shirt. He almost stumbled at the errant thought. Hell, he’d insisted Rachel advertise the place as a working ranch and since he seemed to be the only person at the Sundance paying more attention to the cattle than the females, he wasn’t about to put on airs.

“Jamie, this is my brother, Cole. He’s the oldest, a bit ornery and stubborn, but a real nice guy when you get to know him.”

Cole tightened his jaw, did his fair best not to react. But he and sis needed to have another little talk. Though Rachel’s light laugh said she already knew she’d irritated him.

Their new guest laughed, too. “I don’t have any brothers but I’m guessing you just earned yourself an earful.” She offered him her hand just as she had done with Rachel. “I’m Jamie Daniels, and I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Cole McAllister.”

That wouldn’t happen. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat, then pressed his palm to hers, which was soft and small while his was rough and callused.

She held on a few seconds longer than he expected. “Did you know that in ancient times men shook hands to show they weren’t hiding a weapon?” Her hazel eyes sparkled with mischief. She let go, lifted her hands, palms out, and glanced down at herself. “Not carrying, promise, no need to call me ma’am.”

Cole blinked; that was the best he could do to keep from staring at the tempting swell of her breasts, the small waist, flat belly, the way her hips curved out enough to fill a man’s hands when he took her …

“Sure …” He silently cleared his dry throat, moved a cautious step away. “Jamie, uh, you wanna pop the trunk?”

“Everything I brought is right here.” She opened the back door, then leaned in to grab a duffel-style leather bag.

His gaze went straight to her shapely backside. It wasn’t as if he’d had a choice. The way she was bending over, her hind end angled up … and he was a man, after all. The sudden feeling that he was being watched made him glance over to see Rachel standing by the hood, regarding him with wide-eyed curiosity.

He sent her a warning look, then shifted his attention back to getting her guest inside so he could be on his way. “Let me get that,” he said, and received a shock all the way to his toes when unthinkingly he nearly grabbed Jamie by the hips to move her aside.

Christ almighty.

He jumped back, waited for her to get clear. “Maybe you wouldn’t mind moving the car while I take your bag inside,” he murmured, and out of the corner of his eye caught her smile.

“Will do. Thanks.”

“You know which room?” Rachel asked as he lifted the bag from the backseat.

He didn’t like the devilish tone of her voice. “No, you’d better come show me.”

“After I move the car,” Jamie said, “I’ll meet you inside, if that’s all right?”

“Perfect.” Rachel hitched a thumb over her shoulder. “There’s cold lemonade and cookies on the porch. Help yourself, then come on in.”

Cole hefted the bag and closed the car door. Rachel trailed him inside, and when he headed for the kitchen stairs that their housekeeper, Hilda, and the guests used, Rachel stopped him.

“I gave Jamie the room next to yours,” she said, then breezily passed him as if the change of plans didn’t matter.

“You hold on there.” He stood stubbornly in the big foyer, and waited for her to face him.

She’d already made it partway up the main staircase but she turned, her expression all innocence.

“You’re already reneging on our deal?”

“What deal?”

“Dammit, Rachel.” He set down the bag, exhaled sharply. “We agreed no guests in the main part of the house.”

“Yes, we did. But number one, we’re full, and number two, this is Jamie Daniels we’re talking about.” Rachel’s gaze drifted to the window, and then, in a muted voice, she added, “We can’t talk about this now.”

“And you had the nerve to call me ornery? You sneaky little cuss. If you think you’re gonna bushwhack me like this—”

“What’s going on?” Hilda pushed through the swinging doors between the dining room and kitchen.

Barbara McAllister was right behind her. “You two hush up. We have guests.”

“A fact about which I’m painfully aware.” Cole dialed down his tone but continued to glare at Rachel. “This little pipsqueak has taken it in her mind to give up the family’s privacy.”

After a short silence, his mother sniffed and quietly said, “It is Jamie Daniels, after all.”

Hilda added her agreement.

Cole shifted his disbelieving gaze to the two older conspirators, who gave him small guilty smiles.

Rachel said, “You didn’t seem to mind her too much when she was bending across her backseat.”

He turned back to glare at his sister, but damned if he could think of anything to say. So he pulled his gloves out of his rear pocket and started pulling one on. “You can take this bag up yourself.”

“Wait,” Rachel called after him as he headed for the swinging doors. “Mom, tell him not to leave yet.”

He brushed past Hilda and his mother, ignoring their soft pleas, determined to escape through the kitchen door. “Women,” he muttered, and refused to look back.

JAMIE DIDN’T WASTE much time unpacking. With all the traveling she did, she was an expert at hauling only what she needed. Besides, she was pretty anxious to see that cowboy again.

Cole was even better-looking in person with those bedroom brown eyes and sexy mouth. His dark hair was a bit too long, but she suspected it was more due to indifference than anything else. She sure looked forward to seeing him without the hat, although when he’d casually touched the brim in greeting, her silly heart had done a little curtsy.

Her guess was he’d shaved early this morning, but already stubble had shadowed his strong jaw. At first she’d thought he had a cleft in his chin but then she’d realized it was a small scar—which totally worked for her. The man was the real thing, all right. The kind of cowboy who might star in a fantasy or two. She wondered if a roll in the hay was as uncomfortable as it sounded.

Rachel had invited her to go on a tour as soon as Jamie had settled in, all the more reason she’d hurried stuffing her underwear, sleep shirts and jeans into the antique oak dresser, then hung up her blouses and sundress to loosen any wrinkles.

She glanced back at the neat homey room with the queen bed, hand-carved oak headboard, and blue-and-white patchwork quilt. Nice. She wondered how long the furniture had been in the family. Pulling the door closed, she counted five more rooms besides the two she knew were bathrooms. It was kind of weird to be staying on the same floor with the family. Rachel had explained that the rooms over the kitchen had been added to the house during the last renovation and were the designated guest areas but they were full and she hoped Jamie didn’t mind.

Jamie didn’t, not really. In fact it had to be harder for the McAllisters to have a stranger in their midst. Didn’t stop her from wondering which room belonged to Cole. She was even more curious about his role in the dude ranch. She’d gotten a feeling from Billy at the gas station that this was Rachel’s brainchild and her enthusiasm might not extend to the rest of the family.

At the top of the stairs, Jamie paused, unprepared for the breathtaking view of the Rocky Mountains. How had she not noticed the two-story vertical window? It didn’t particularly suit the log-cabin style and yet it did because not to showcase the view would’ve been criminal.

“You’re quick.”

Jamie recognized Rachel’s voice and looked down to see her approaching from the dining-room area.

“Yeah, I travel so much I kind of have to be.” She took another step down, her attention divided between Rachel and the view. Against the distant clear blue sky an eagle soared.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Rachel had turned to the window.

“Do you ever take it for granted?”

“Nope. While I was away at school I’d come back for the summer and holidays and every time I’d be in total awe.” She smiled. “My sorority sisters’ reaction to the pictures on my laptop gave me the idea for the dude ranch. In fact, two of them are coming next month.”

“Was it the pictures of the countryside or your brothers that got their attention?”

Rachel let out a surprised laugh, and Jamie truly wished she hadn’t been quite so frank. Especially when an older woman came through the swinging doors with a knowing smile on her face. She had to be Rachel’s mother. Same auburn hair, friendly green eyes, slight build.

Maybe she hadn’t overheard.

“So which one of my brothers hooked you in?” Rachel asked, still grinning.

Jamie sighed. “I was just saying …” She left the last step and smiled sheepishly at the older woman. “Hi. You have to be Rachel’s mom.”

“It’s Barbara.” She set the vase of giant sunflowers on the foyer table and wiped her palms on the front of her jeans. “Yes, I’m the mother of the whole brood.” She had a firm handshake and warm smile. “Dinner isn’t for a couple of hours. May we get you a snack to hold you over?”

“Thanks, but I already had a couple of the oatmeal cookies. My compliments to whoever made them. Wow.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Cole,” Rachel said.

Jamie blinked. “Seriously?”

Barbara made a tsking sound and gave her daughter an admonishing look.

Jamie chuckled, mostly at herself. What the hell, she’d already stuck her foot in it. “You got me all excited. I was ready to ask for his hand.”

“You have my blessing,” Barbara said, then laughed. “But I wouldn’t count on it.” She darted a look at Rachel. “I can’t seem to get rid of any of them.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Love you, Mom, but you’re full of beans. What would you do without us?” She gave Barbara a quick kiss on the cheek. “Ready for the tour, Jamie?”

“Ready,” she confirmed, the affection between mother and daughter tugging at her heart. She couldn’t imagine her mom teasing her that way. They didn’t have that kind of relationship. Sadly, they barely had one at all. “Rachel, if you’re busy, I don’t mind wandering around on my own.”

“Nope, you’re getting a tour. Otherwise, I’d have to help with dinner preparation.”

“See you two later.” With an indulgent smile, Barbara left through the swinging doors.

Rachel pointed out the kitchen and the large room with an impressive stone fireplace where guests tended to linger after dinner. At six, beer and margaritas would be served on the porch, dinner at seven in the dining room—with the exception of Saturday nights when Chester, the bunkhouse cook, fired up the smokers and the evening meal was served family-style on the picnic tables outside.

On their way to the stables, Jamie kept an eye out for Cole. A dark-haired man riding a bay horse left the barn and galloped north but it wasn’t him. Even from the back Jamie would’ve known.

“The bunkhouse?” she asked, casting a glance at the two men leaving a long rectangular building across the yard. With the door open, a strong whiff of coffee drifted through the warm air and stirred an old memory. The men who worked her uncle’s peanut farm always had a pot of acrid brew going, no matter how hot or humid the weather.

“It is, but I promised the hands we’d keep the place off-limits to guests. Believe me, you don’t want to go in there anyway.”

The men saw them and each lifted a hand in a half-hearted wave. Jamie smiled and nodded. “Must be hard for these guys to have a bunch of tourists underfoot.”

“No, not at all,” Rachel said quickly, then eyed the taller, more taciturn-looking man in his mid-sixties as the pair of cowhands moved closer. “Some of the old-timers are a little slow to adjust, but I promise it won’t affect your stay here.”

“I get it.” Jamie shrugged. “It’s a working ranch, and frankly, that’s part of the appeal.”

“I hope you’re right,” Rachel murmured, then as if regretting the remark, glanced at Jamie. “Everything is still new for us. I kind of wish you’d wanted to come later.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” She smiled at Rachel, whom she’d decided she really liked. Had they met in college, Jamie suspected they would’ve been friends. “Look,” she said, nudging her chin toward two giggly young women dressed inappropriately in heeled sandals, brief shorts and halter tops, watching a tall cowboy demonstrate a lassoing technique. “They seem to be having a good time.”

“Oh, yeah. So is he, apparently. That’s my brother Trace.”

At Rachel’s dry tone, Jamie grinned and got a better look at the guy’s face. She could see now that he was one of the brothers. He was kind of young and good-looking but not in the same league as Cole … who she really wanted to see again. But she didn’t dare ask, not after making that glib remark in front of his mother and sister.

“How do I sign up for activities?” she asked as they reached the stables.

“What specifically are you interested in?”

“As many things as I can fit into this week.”

“Good for you. How about we go over the schedule after dinner?”

“Sure, and by the way, I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty.”

Rachel gave her a long speculative look, then absently nodded, a slow smile lifting her mouth. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The stable was cool and dim after walking a few minutes in the blazing August sun. Horses stopped munching hay to curiously study the newcomer. Only a small paint seemed put off at the intrusion and tossed its mane, nickering loudly.

“Be quiet, Bubblegum.” Rachel stopped at the stall and stroked the horse’s neck. “Mind your manners.”

Unexpectedly overcome by the familiar smells of fresh straw, leather and saddle soap, Jamie hesitated, reliving that moment nearly twenty years ago on her first day in Georgia. Feeling utterly alone, she’d run from the strange family she’d never known and hidden in an empty stall. They’d found her, coaxed her out, hugged her, soothed her, loved her.

She shivered.

Rachel touched her arm. “You okay?”

“Fine.” She shrugged. “My aunt and uncle used to have a peanut farm in Georgia before they retired. Their stable was only half this size, though.”

Muffled voices carried from the back where it was dark and shadowed. Jamie couldn’t see anyone but she immediately recognized Cole’s quiet husky drawl.

“I thought he’d left,” Rachel said absently.

“Who?”

“Cole. He’s supposed to be working on the irrigation system in the north pasture.” Rachel picked up her pace. “Cole? Jesse?”

“Back here with Jezebel.”

“Is she okay?” Rachel asked anxiously. “She’s not due yet.”

“She’s fine … still pregnant.”

The two men stepped out into the dappled sunlight sneaking in through a gap in the wall. Seeing Jamie, they lapsed into a brief uncomfortable silence.

She slowed behind Rachel. The brothers were of similar height and build, both had dark hair, but Cole’s was longer. Still, they looked remarkably alike.

Rachel introduced Jesse, who was so cute he even took off his hat before he shook Jamie’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am, but you’ll have to excuse me,” he said in a deep rumbling voice, and glanced at his sister. “I’ve got to make a run to the border to pick up a goat.”

That startled a laugh out of Jamie.

“His date.” Rachel grinned, and watched her brother shake his head as he headed out. “He works part-time as an animal rescue pilot.”

“Wow.” Jamie turned to watch him go. “How interesting.”

Cole noisily cleared his throat. “I gotta be going, too.”

Rachel caught his arm. “I thought you’d already left.”

“I got sidetracked.”

“Are you sure Jezebel’s all right?”

He briefly glanced at Jamie, and she thought she saw a glint of guilt in his eyes. Maybe the brothers had been looking for a private place to talk. “Go see for yourself.”

“Stay,” Rachel said. “It’s getting close to suppertime. Have a beer on the porch with our guests.”

He frowned. “I got four hours of daylight left. I’ll grab a sandwich when I get back.”

“Come on, Cole, you work too hard.”

Jamie couldn’t see his face, but she could just imagine the glare he gave his sister as he strolled purposefully past her. “Mind if I go with you?” The words were out of Jamie’s mouth before she considered them.

Even Rachel looked a bit stunned.

Jamie shrugged. “I’ve been cooped up in a plane or car all day. I wouldn’t mind the fresh air.”

Cole stared at her, looking as if he’d been cornered by a rattlesnake.

## 4

“I’M GOING OUT THERE to work. It won’t be a pleasure ride,” Cole said, looking to Rachel for help. He wasn’t about to let Jamie go with him. Not only did he truly mean to replace those pipes that had been leaking, but he didn’t need the distraction.

His sister thought for a moment. “How perfect,” she said, giving him one of those determined looks that meant nothing but trouble. “That way we can expect you back at a decent hour.”

Cole glared at the traitor, then realized Jamie was staring at him. He rolled his shoulder to ease the sudden kink of tension cramping his neck. “I think you’d be better off with Shane, one of our wranglers. He’s been giving the guests riding lessons and—”

“I already know how to ride.” Jamie met his eyes straight-on, giving not so much as a hint of what was going on in her head. She’d be a good poker player.

“Take Gypsy.” Rachel ignored the pointed warning he sent her with the set of his mouth, and with sheer cussedness turned to Jamie. “She’s that sweet bay mare in the first stall we passed.”

Sighing, Cole took off his hat and plowed a hand through his hair, then rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t mean to be contrary, but I’ll say it plain. This isn’t a good idea.”

Her lips parted a little, her expression startled as if he’d splashed her with cold creek water, and then her long thick lashes swept the tops of her slightly flushed cheeks. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I have no business pushing myself on you.”

“You’re not being pushy. It’s just that you’ve got plenty of time for riding, and you haven’t had a tour of the place yet.”

Jamie smiled, moved a slim shoulder. “You’re right, of course.”

Ah, hell. Better that she would’ve played coy … that he could’ve ignored. But she seemed genuinely embarrassed, which made him feel like cow manure. “Hey, if you want a ride, I’ll go saddle Gypsy for you,” he murmured, and settled his hat back on his head.

“No, Cole, really …” Jamie caught his arm.

He froze, glanced down at the slim unadorned fingers curled around his forearm. A sudden warmth flooded his chest. The reaction puzzled him. A whole passel of females had been traipsing around the ranch for the past two weeks, a lot of them prettier than her.

She slowly withdrew her hand.

“Rachel, get her a hat to protect her face and eyes.”

“I’m wearing sunscreen,” Jamie said, already starting to back up. “I have a ball cap in the room. Won’t take me but a minute to get it.”

Something about her appealed to him. Or at least she didn’t make him feel like hightailing it to the broken-down east line shack and holing up for the next week. Maybe it was her wide generous smile which seemed to come easily, or the fact that she had strong hands and sensible nails. He was a practical man. He appreciated those simple attributes in a woman.

He saw the soft heave of her high round breasts, looked into her clear hazel eyes and felt a smile tug at his mouth. She blinked, and he darted a look at his sister, who was staring at him as if he’d belched out loud in church. “What?”

As usual, Rachel wasn’t fazed by his abruptness. “Nothing.” She pressed her lips together, but that didn’t stop the corners from twitching. “I have a hat for you, Jamie. Right over here.”

Cole walked past them, his head down, wondering why the devil he’d given in. He wouldn’t get any work done because he had every intention of taking Jamie for a short ride to the foothills and then turning around in time for her to drink her margarita and eat supper with the rest of the guests. Then he’d ride back out and finish his chores. And just maybe he’d bunk in the line shack after all.

“I’VE NEVER BEEN to Montana before. It’s beautiful country.” They’d reached the edge of the high mountain meadow dotted with orange and yellow wildflowers, and Jamie wished they could stop, just for a few minutes while she soaked in the beauty of the verdant landscape.

Cole didn’t say a word. She hadn’t expected him to, nor did she expect him to stop riding. He regretted letting her come with him—that much was clear from his stony silence during the twenty-five minutes they’d been riding.

“I checked out a map before I came. The western part of the state is flat. I don’t think I’d like that much.” She glanced over at him. “Is this all McAllister land?”

“Until the other side of the meadow.”

She tugged down the borrowed brown hat, hoping to shade her eyes from the sinking sun, then squinted at the dense grove of pines climbing the mountainside. Any minute she was going to have to swallow her pride and ask him to stop. She wasn’t a bad rider but it had been a while since she’d climbed on a horse, and ogling while staying in the saddle was becoming a bit too much. Plus she was getting stiff.

A minute later he reined in his beautiful chestnut gelding, and she wanted to throw her arms around him in gratitude. But then he’d probably send her back to the ranch. She figured the best way to show her appreciation for letting her tag along was to let him have his silence. So she listened to the wind rustle the aspen leaves and inhaled the crisp air, so fresh and clean it seemed almost unnatural.

“Your nose is pink.”

“Oh.” She touched the tip, momentarily self-conscious, unaware he’d been looking at her. “That always happens, even with sunscreen. Better than freckles, I suppose.”

Their eyes met, briefly, before he found something on the side of the mountain to stare at, basically anything that wasn’t her, while he lapsed again into silence. Fine. Maybe he’d already met his word quota for the day.

She seized the chance to study his profile, guessing that he was in his early thirties. She wasn’t good at judging age to begin with, and the lines at the corners of his eyes, the groove in his cheek, all could be the result of working outdoors. Though whatever had conspired to create that face got two thumbs up from her. She liked what she saw, no doubt about that.

She didn’t even mind that he wasn’t talkative. He reminded her of the heroes in the old Westerns that she’d watched with her father. That her dad had been a sucker for a John Wayne or Gary Cooper yarn was the most human thing about him. Her mother would roll her eyes on that rare free night when he’d fix his martini, pop one of his beloved Westerns in the VHS player, and Jamie would cuddle with him on the couch, watching until she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

Yeah, she liked thinking about Cole as one of those Western heroes. Tall, dark, quiet. He was perfect, sitting there looking sexy with that Stetson brim pulled low. All he needed was a gun belt and a rifle to complete the picture.

Nah, she wasn’t fond of guns. Or God help her, the violent explosion of gunfire.

She closed her eyes, regretting that she’d invited the memory of that horrifying day so long ago, and lifted her face to the sun focusing on her breathing. While it had been too hot earlier, the warmth felt good now, especially with the slight breeze.

“You’re a good rider.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Why the surprise?”

His lips moved a little, probably as close to a smile as she was going to get. “Most of the guests have been beginners.”

“That has to be frustrating.”

“They’re my brother Trace’s problem.”

Jamie grinned.

“I didn’t mean that like it sounded,” he muttered, and squinted in the other direction.

She changed her mind. She didn’t want him retreating into silence again. Distraction was better. “It’s okay. I kind of get that the dude ranch thing was Rachel’s idea.” She paused. “I understand that some people around here aren’t happy about the new business.”

He turned his head sharply toward her. “Where did you hear that?”

“The gas station.”

“Billy?” he asked, frowning.

“He was trying to explain Avery’s attitude.”

“Avery Phelps.” Cole sighed and shook his head. “Nice welcome wagon.”

“Billy was adorable. Avery not so much.”

“What did the old man say to you?”

She shrugged. “I’m used to people like him. I make my living traveling. Wherever there are tourists, there will be Averys who don’t want to share.”

“It’s not about sharing. It’s about change. This is cattle country. Most folks around here want to keep it that way.”

“What about you?”

His jaw tightened. “Just trying to make a living and take care of my family.”

“You aren’t married,” she said too quickly, her gaze going to his hand even though she already knew he wore no ring.

“Nope.”

“Ever been?”

His brown eyes warmed with amusement. “Why?”

She should’ve been embarrassed. She wasn’t normally that blatantly inquisitive about a man. “I’m nosy.”

“That could get you in trouble.”

“Oh, it already has. Many times, actually. I haven’t learned my lesson.”

“I see that.”

She liked that she’d almost made him smile. “So?”

“What?”

“Ever married? Or come close?”

He hesitated. “No.”

Interesting that he’d had to think about it.

“What about you?”

She blinked, unprepared for him to turn the question around. “Not me,” she said emphatically.

“Too busy traveling?”

She shrugged a shoulder and gave him a cheeky smile. “Nobody would have me.”

“Right.” Between his murmured drawl and the lingering gaze that slowly slid away from her body, a shiver raced down her spine.

She wondered if he was aware of the message he’d just sent. She hadn’t imagined it. No way that heated look had been wishful thinking on her part. She breathed in deeply, then tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry.

“Ready to head back?” he asked.

“I thought you had work to do.”

“Not up here,” he said, lifting one brow in obvious amusement. “We irrigate the pasture when necessary.”

“Then what are we doing here?”

“Thought you’d enjoy the view.”

Damn the man. Here she’d thought they were making a little headway. “You figured I couldn’t make the ride uphill and I’d beg you to take me back.”

He lifted his Stetson then resettled it on his head, his gaze trained on the horizon. “You have a mighty suspicious mind.”

She didn’t trust the slow easy smile that curved his mouth. Sure, they’d go back to the Sundance, because she was about ready to kill for a beer or margarita, but he wasn’t getting rid of her. Not this easily.

COLE DIDN’T KNOW what to make of Jamie. They hadn’t spoken much on the ride back, and he liked that she was more comfortable with silence than any woman he’d ever met. She was different in other ways, too. Nothing he could pinpoint, because he didn’t know her that well yet.

Hell, he wasn’t planning on getting to know her better. No point in it. He wasn’t that interested, and in six days she’d be gone, anyway. He’d made that mistake with his old girlfriend Bella after fooling himself into believing he knew her as well as a man could know a woman. The only thing positive he could say about the outcome was that he’d learned his lesson well. Luckily, he and Bella had worked out a comfortable arrangement and when she occasionally blew back into town for a couple of weeks, the sex was decent with no promises or expectations on either side.

So why was he thinking about Jamie Daniels at all? Why was he hanging around the west barn, catching glimpses of her mingling with the other guests, drinking margaritas and nibbling Hilda’s homemade tortilla chips and salsa?

By the time he’d brushed down and watered Gypsy, he’d told himself it was too late to return to work. A damn lie for sure. With another two and a half hours of daylight left, he could’ve replaced three T-joints before he’d called it a day.

Hearing an engine, he ducked his head out to see the sheriff’s white truck coming up the drive. Between the tinted windshield and the sun’s glare, Cole couldn’t tell if it was Noah or one of his deputies. Either way, this close to supper was an odd time for anyone to call.

He grabbed a rag to wipe his hands, and the sound of feminine laughter coming from the porch had him shaking his head. How could he have forgotten? The deputies were probably here to check out the new batch of guests who’d arrived today. Yep, he thought, sighing, the Sundance was starting to be a mighty busy place.

About to go back inside the barn, he was surprised to see Noah climb out of the truck. They’d been friends since before either one of them could tie their shoes, and Cole knew damn well Noah hadn’t made a special trip to check out the women. He wore his customary jeans and tan uniform shirt. Had to still be working.

Noah spotted him, tugged down his brown Stetson, his attention on the gravel under his boots as he headed toward the barn.

“Hey, Sheriff Calder.” Rachel called to him from the porch, waving to get his attention.

“Evenin’, Rachel.” Noah glanced her way, gave her a polite nod, then set his sights on Cole.

“Would you like to join us for a nice cold beer?”

“Thanks, but I’m on duty.”

“We have iced tea,” Rachel shouted. “Hilda made fresh salsa. Thick and spicy the way you like it.”

Noah gave her a strained smile and a small shake of his head.

Chuckling, Cole watched a dozen women track his progress. A few were sitting on the rockers and the swing, but most of them stood at the railing, staring and showing their teeth. It might’ve looked like a Tupperware party except women around these parts tended not to run around half-naked, getting sunburned and wearing impractical high-heeled sandals.

As soon as Noah was close enough, he gestured with his eyes for them to meet inside the barn.

Try as he might to resist, Cole slid a parting glance toward Jamie. She wasn’t watching Noah. Her gaze was on Cole. He pretended not to notice and waited inside.

His friend followed him with a scowl on his face.

“What? You don’t like being eyed like a side of prime Angus?” Cole laughed at the hand gesture. “I heard they’re partial to a man in uniform.”

Noah snorted. “What the hell are you hanging around for? Didn’t figure I’d catch you here.”

Cole shrugged. “I took one of the new guests for a ride up to Big Jim Flats and just brought her back.”

“You?” Noah’s tanned face creased in surprise. “Which one?”

“What difference does it make?” Cole grabbed the pitchfork he’d been using and irritably stuck it in the hay. “It was a favor to Rachel.”

“Could’ve sworn you said you were staying out of the business.”

“You drove all the way out here to be a pain in my ass?”

Noah smiled, and from his position in the shadows of the barn door, ducked to get an undetected look at the porch. “I bet it was the blonde in the white shorts.”

“Care to lay down a hundred on that?”

Noah eyed him with new interest, then went back to studying the assortment of ladies. “Can’t be the one in the jeans.”

Cole thought for a moment. Jamie was the only guest with the good sense to be wearing the appropriate clothes. “Where?”

“Right there. Dark blond hair. Real cute. Got a bum leg.”

Cole shouldered his friend aside. Jamie’s hair was dark blond but there was nothing wrong with her leg. He would’ve noticed. “Who are you talking about?”

“She just sat down next to Rachel, but she’s got a bad limp. Hope she didn’t get hurt on your property.”

“Jamie hadn’t been limping,” he murmured, half to himself. “Are you sure?”

“Jamie?”

Cole watched her grimace as she leaned over to take a beer off the tray Hilda had carried out. Rachel patted her arm with concern. Jamie shook her head, and gave a strained smile.

“Christ almighty.” Cole sighed heavily. He understood the problem now, and he was mainly to blame.

Noah gave him a long measuring look. “What’s wrong?”

The guy was more than a good friend, he was like a brother, but Cole wasn’t in the mood to discuss Jamie with him, or anyone. Fortunately, Trace chose the perfect time to step out of the house and onto the porch. He’d changed into clean jeans and his hair was damp from a shower.

Snorting, Cole motioned with his chin. “Look at that.”

Noah chuckled. “Maybe you can get stud fees for the kid.”

“That’s a thought.” Cole grunted. “Hell, might be the only way I’d get a decent day’s work out of him. Ever since the women got here he’s been doing nothing but preening like a rooster.”

They both watched Trace shamelessly flirt with the guests. The women swarmed to him like hummingbirds to nectar. Not Jamie, though. She stayed where she was, talking to Rachel, occasionally laughing at something someone said. When she glanced toward the barn, Cole turned away.

“You really on duty?” he asked Noah.

“Yeah.” Noah took off his hat and slapped it against the front of his thigh sending dust particles in the air. “Got a call from Mrs. Clements. Claims someone stole one of her four-wheelers.”

“Can’t be right.” There hadn’t been a theft in Salinas County for as long as Cole could recall. “The old woman has so much junk on her property, she probably misplaced it.”

“That’s my way of thinking. Naturally Avery had to stick his nose in, jabbering on about how this is what happens when you bring in outsiders.”

Cole stared at his friend. “You think one of the … Is that why you’re here?”

“You know me better than that, McAllister.” Noah sighed. “I figured I’d ask around, see if anyone’s noticed if things have gone missing.”

He shook his head. “The men would’ve mentioned it.”

“I expect it’ll turn out to be nothing, just like you said, probably misplaced. But the truth is, these are hard times. We don’t like to think our neighbors would resort to stealing, but a lot of men are out of work and they’ve got kids to feed. They see an elderly widow hoarding stuff she doesn’t use—” Noah shrugged, his expression grim. “Who’s to say …?”