by Lois Richer
Lexy held up her hand and yelled for her sister to stop. The man’s dog rushed to him and nosed his cheek. Another dog, even bigger, stood just outside the door and barked. “Quedate.” His voice was crisp as he ordered the dog to stay.
With Jess snug in her arms, Lexy rushed to her sister, who was looking a little wild-eyed and ready to attack again. She held up her hand again to Naomi as she turned her gaze to the man. He was glaring at them.
“Sir. Está bien?” Lexy asked.
“I’m fine,” he replied, in clear English.
In one motion he stood. His right hand went to his opposite shoulder, then down the short sleeve of his dark blue T-shirt. His left arm ended right below the elbow with a crisscross of scars. She stared at the missing arm for a moment before he turned, blocking his left side from her view.
Naomi stepped back. “I called the police,” she yelled as she waved her phone at the man. “They’ll be here any minute.”
He eyed the shovel, then them. The big dog with the black face stood by his side. A red mark had appeared on the man’s cheek. “Good. Did you report someone trespassing on my property?” His voice was deep and a little gravelly, as if it didn’t get used often.
Both dogs whined. He patted the one next to him and whispered something too low to hear. “Hansel, vienes.” The dog in the doorway ran to his side.
A half sob came out of Naomi’s throat. “If this is your barn, why are you sneaking around in the dark with a gun?”
All three adults shifted their gazes to his rifle a few feet away.
“On the ranch, it’s common to carry a gun. There’s a reason it’s called the Diamondback Ranch.” He lifted his arms, his one hand spread wide to show her he didn’t have another weapon.
“We’re on the Diamondback Ranch?” Relief flooded Lexy’s muscles that had been tight since she’d realized they were lost in the dark. They had made it. “We didn’t mean to cause any trouble. We’re lost.”
One of the horses responded, but the man didn’t say a word. As he moved to retrieve his gun, Naomi gasped. He stopped midaction.
Lexy rushed her next words. “It’s been a really stressful couple of days and we’re a bit edgy around guns.”
“I’m sorry about the shovel. I’m not a violent person. I saw your gun, and I just panicked.” Naomi edged past the man, then rushed to Lexy’s side. “I’m sorry.”
He stood still. His gaze darted between them. Outside, the wind picked up. The temperature was dropping. Slowly he reached for the wall behind him and flipped a switch. Lexy blinked against the brightness that flooded the area.
His focus zeroed in on her. His features were hard and unforgiving.
They were an unusual greenish-gray color, framed by coal-black lashes and dark skin. Haunting images of the sweeping Spanish moss that hung from the ancient oak trees in the bayou came to mind. Taking a step away from him, Lexy lifted her chin.
Mouth dry, she cleared her throat. “I work for Quinn Sinclair. We’ll be living on the ranch.”
* * *
Great. Damian De La Rosa clenched his teeth and shifted his weight, resisting the urge to flex his knee.
Why did people keep showing up on his family ranch? There seemed to be someone new every time he turned around since his cousin had married the biologist.
This new interloper might be afraid of him, but the determination to protect her little family burned in her obsidian eyes. A fierce warrior lived in that short but solid body. Tons of dark brown curls threatened to escape a messy bun.
He frowned. The light pullover she was wearing wouldn’t do much to keep her warm, but at least she had combat boots.
Reluctantly, he turned to the younger woman, the one who had swung at him. Other than being almost a foot taller than the one who’d distracted him, the women looked alike.
He reached for his rifle, and the taller one waved the phone again as if to ward him off. He sighed. The reason he lived deep on the ranch was so he didn’t have to deal with people or explain himself. “It’s not safe to leave the gun on the floor. I’ll go lock it up. Then we can decide where you belong and how to get you there. Okay?”
He looked back to the shorter one holding the baby. She seemed to be in charge of the trio. He stayed still, waiting for her agreement.
She kept her back to the wall and her gaze on him. “You said this was your property? Are you a De La Rosa?”
“Damian.”
The baby whimpered and reached for the taller woman. With great care, the woman took the baby and moved back to cuddle her. With a soft woof, Gretel left his side and stood in front of the child.
He looked back at the older woman, his eyebrows raised. She shrugged and nodded toward the rifle. Damian picked it up and released, then cleared the chamber. Slinging the strap over his shoulder, he slipped the cartridge into his pocket, then snapped his fingers and pointed to his foot.
“Gretel, vienes.” Head down, she turned toward him. But instead of walking over, she sat, her amber eyes begging to stay. “Seriously?” She made a low whine. He raised his eyes to the shorter woman. “Name?” His voice was harsher than he intended.
“Sorry.” She stepped forward, right hand out. “I’m Lexy Zapata. This is my sister, Naomi Hernandez, and my niece, Jessie.”
She wasn’t the mother. No rings on either of their hands.
“My car was running low on gas and we’re a little lost,” she continued. “And by a little, I mean we had no clue as to our location. We just needed a place to rest and regroup before heading out in the morning. It’s a relief to discover this is the Diamondback Ranch.”
“Just the three of you?” He glanced around for a husband or boyfriend. There was no reason for him to care if she was single or not.
The sisters exchanged a glance, then her focus returned to him. “I was supposed to come alone, but my sister needed a place to stay for a while, so I brought her with me.” She paused. “I spoke with Quinn. It’s not a problem, is it?”
He shrugged. “No clue.” In the morning he’d deliver the little family to Belle and hopefully not see them again. “There’s a couple of cots in the tack room.” He turned to leave, but Gretel whined again. With a shake of his head, he sighed. “She wants to stay.”
Mouth back in a tight line, she met his gaze. “Is she a German shepherd?”
“No. Belgian Malinois.”
Lexy went to the dog and held out her hand before stroking her behind the ears. “She’s a beautiful dog.” Tail wagging and with what had to be a smile, the dog lifted her eyes to the sister. “I think she likes babies. She’s safe, right?”
He tried not to be insulted. “She’s well trained.”
With the baby balanced on her hip, Naomi went to her haunches next to her. The big dog dropped to her belly, her eyes on the little one. The woman held her hand out, palm up. “I can tell you’re a good girl.” Her voice was sing-song. His dog was eating it up.
The short one, Lexy, smiled for the first time, then glanced at him. “Sorry, we get a little silly over animals.” Her attention went back to her niece. “Puppy.”
Instantly his dog flopped to her back in complete surrender, and the child filled the room with the sweetest baby giggle. The females seemed to have created an instant tribe right in the middle of his stables.
An odd sensation settled at his core. He took a breath, but there was no rush to exhale. Something unfamiliar shifted under his skin.
Taking a moment to analyze the experience, he surprised himself with the conclusion.
A feeling of calm and peace had invaded this space. He looked over his shoulder. Making sure there was a clear escape.
He took a step back. The sooner this little family made it to Belle, the better. If it weren’t two in the morning, he’d call her to come get her visitors. Better yet, he should just take them and drop them off
on her front porch, but that wasn’t socially acceptable behavior.
Lexy stood. “She’s a good dog.”
With one look at his big dogs, most people assumed the worst, just like they did with him. He snapped his fingers at his side for his dogs to join him. Gretel gave a soft bark, as if promising to be on her best behavior. The poor girl never asked for anything.
He glanced at his midnight trespasser. “Is it okay if she stays?”
She nodded. “That would be lovely.”
“There are extra blankets in the cabin. I’ll get them. Belle and Quinn are just about ten minutes from here. We’ll go in my truck in the morning. There’s a tank at the big barn where we can get you gas.”
“Thank you, Damian, for helping us.” She lifted her hand gracefully and waited for him to take it.
The hand was small but strong, and he wrapped his much larger one around it. A warmth eased through his skin. “De nada. You’re going to love Belle. Everyone does.”
His throat hurt from overuse. Too many words. It was time to go, so why was he lingering?
He hadn’t talked this much since he’d been an inquisitive kid and his father would backhand him for his questions. Asking questions led only to trouble.
With his rifle back on his shoulder, he made his way to the cabin. Hansel stayed close to him, slipping one questioning look back at Gretel.
“She’ll be back with us in the morning, boy.” Pulling his jacket closer to ward off the dropping temperature, he resisted the urge to rub his hands together.
His brain thought it was fun to pretend he still had a left hand and foot. In the cabin, he locked away the rifle and ammo, then gathered the extra blankets.
Hansel tilted his head. “Yeah. It’s getting colder and our travelers need a warm place to sleep.” He didn’t like people being in his space. “Gretel will make sure they’re safe.”
Hansel flopped down in his bedding with a heavy exhale of air as if he didn’t agree.
Sleep would be good, but he wasn’t going to get any tonight.
Blankets in hand, Damian went to the door. Hansel was back up and at his side. They’d probably end up spending the night on the porch until it was time to take their night travelers to the big house.
There was no way he’d be going to bed knowing they were out there alone.
Why would two women with a baby be traveling so late? Something wasn’t right, but it wasn’t his problem. By the time the sun came up, Belle would have them and they’d be out of his life.
That was good. He would hand her off to Belle and go back to his life the way he liked it. Quiet.
Copyright © 2020 by Jolene Navarro
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ISBN-13: 9781488060588
Christmas in a Snowstorm
Copyright © 2020 by Lois M. Richer
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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