by Maisey Yates
There. Done.
She came to her feet, smoothing the front of her sleeveless black-and-white dress and slipping her olive green handbag over her shoulder. She walked with confidence in her jungle-patterned pumps. The spike-heeled shoes weren’t made for long walks, but they did great things for her calves, and they’d get her as far as her Jaguar convertible.
As she rounded a polished wood pillar near the front foyer, a man stepped unexpectedly out in front of her. She stumbled, nearly falling into his chest.
His hands came out, grasping her upper arms to steady her, and she looked up to find it was Rafe. Strong hands, handsome face, sinfully sexy lips…
Gina told her brain to shut up already.
“Sorry,” he said, then obviously registered who she was. He let go of her like she was contagious, that frown reappearing on his face.
“My fault,” she said, because it was, and she didn’t have to like him to tell the truth. “I was in a hurry.”
He glanced into the dining area behind her. “Your mother?”
“Left to meet with her fiancé.”
“Ah, yes, Brett Harston.”
“Right. You would know Brett.”
“Ranching fraternity.”
Rafe didn’t look much like a rancher. His face was tanned a deep brown. His hands were broad and strong, but she hadn’t felt thick calluses on his fingertips like most ranchers’.
She wondered how long it had been since he rode the range on his huge family ranch.
“I haven’t seen you in here before now,” Rafe drawled, his watchful gaze betraying his assumption. He’d concluded she was persona non grata at the TCC. He was right, but that didn’t excuse his rudeness.
“Are you trying to start an argument?” she asked bluntly.
“No…yes…maybe.” There was a hint of amusement in his expression along with what seemed like a flare of admiration for her grit.
She might have laughed at the comeback if he wasn’t being such a jerk. “We were victims, too, you know. Just like everyone else.”
His dark brows went up in obvious amazement. “You?”
“Yes, me.”
“The Edmond princess, a victim of financial misfortune?” He made a show of peering out the front window to the parking lot. “Let me guess which car you’re driving.”
“Well, that’s irrelevant.”
He took his time looking over her designer outfit. “Where, exactly, are you going to have to cut back, Princess?”
Her clothes were expensive, sure. But, again, irrelevant. “Don’t call me that.”
“It fits.” He waited a moment. “You don’t have an answer, do you?”
“An answer for what? For you being so rude?”
“On where you’re personally cutting back. Give me one concrete example of the festival embezzlement impacting your exclusive lifestyle, and I’ll apologize unreservedly.”
She didn’t have a quick answer for that.
“That’s none of your business,” she huffed.
He laughed at that, a full, rich sound.
“Well, clearly nothing’s changed around here yet,” Gina pointed out, glancing around at the bustling staff and the upscale decor.
Rafe sobered. “You can’t see what’s happening under the surface.”
“You can’t see what’s happening under my surface, either.” The Edmonds might not be in an immediate cash crisis, but their reputation had been savaged, starting with Asher’s arrest and then with Billy’s disappearance. And the fallout from that was just beginning.
Never mind that she and her brothers felt honor bound to try to fix the mess. She’d never admit it to someone like Rafe, but she did feel some responsibility for the catastrophe since it was her family that brought Billy into the community.
Rafe considered her for a minute. Up close, her initial attraction to his looks, his powerful presence and his graceful movements grew even more potent. She felt hot and prickly with awareness of him as a man.
“You want to show me?” he asked, his low, deep voice reverberating around her.
She was taken aback by the question. It could be interpreted in a whole host of different ways, some of them extremely seductive. Her face and neck warmed with her reckless thoughts.
“Hang on,” he said. “I didn’t mean it that way…”
She didn’t know what she hated more, that he seemed to be able to read her mind or that she seemed to be able to read his.
“I didn’t think you did,” she answered tartly, willing her hormones to calm the heck down.
“Then why the blush?”
“I don’t blush.”
“You’re blushing now.” He was making it worse.
“I’m angry now,” she said.
“Why?”
She didn’t have a quick answer for that either, but she tried her best. “Because…because, you’re being so rude!”
“Me?” He feigned surprise.
“Yes, you.”
“I only asked about the more subtle impacts of the embezzlement situation on your family.”
She narrowed her eyes, not buying his innocent act for a moment. “Yeah, right.”
He shook his head pityingly. “Oh, Gina. You’re so used to men falling at your feet in abject adoration that you don’t recognize anything else.”
She wasn’t. She didn’t. She hadn’t just done that…
Had she?
Copyright © 2021 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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ISBN-13: 9780369708175
Rancher’s Christmas Storm
Copyright © 2021 by Maisey Yates
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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