Rancher's Covert Christmas

by Beth Cornelison

  “Uh,” he grunted. Clearly she’d caught him off guard. “When?”

  “I can be there Monday.”

  Dang it. Her curiosity was tickling her. Thrashing her, really. She had to know the face that went with that voice! She hesitated only a moment before opening her Facebook account and doing a search for Zane McCall.

  “So soon?” he asked. “I don’t know. We’ve got a busy couple weeks leading up to Christmas. It’s the end of the season, and we’ll be sorting the herd in preparation to go to auction.”

  Several Zane McCalls popped up on her screen, and she scanned the list looking for the one whose information matched Mr. Sexy Voice’s. He was third on the list. Boyd Valley, CO. Rancher/Adventurer.

  Single. That tidbit excited her more than it should.

  “I promise not to get in the way. In fact, I’d love to see the sorting process. If it is key to the ranch business, then it will be great fodder for the article.”

  “I thought you said the focus of your story would be the adventure ranch.”

  She couldn’t tell anything about Zane’s appearance from the thumbnail profile picture in the list. She chewed her bottom lip, debating, and her finger hovered over her mouse. Curiosity won. She clicked his listing, and his profile page opened.

  “Erin?”

  She jolted as if she’d been caught snooping in his underwear drawer and slapped her laptop closed. “Oh, uh, right! It is. But I want a complete picture of the ranch and your operations.”

  Speaking of pictures... She opened the laptop again, and his Facebook page filled the screen. She zoomed in on his profile picture and caught her breath.

  OMG. The photo was of a dark-haired cowboy with a strong, square jaw, wide shoulders and piercing blue eyes. He wore a gray Stetson, a tight T-shirt and a pensive look that sent shivers to her core. Oh, yes. The face matched the voice.

  “How much input would we have over what appeared in the final article?” he asked.

  Drawing her attention back to her conversation took all of her concentration. Even after she closed the web page, she saw the image of Zane McCall, as if he’d been burned onto her retinas.

  She exhaled a cleansing breath, fighting to bring her scattered pulse back under control.

  “Pardon?”

  “How much editorial input would we be allowed?” Zane repeated.

  Since there would never really be an article, she supposed that point was moot. But because she was selling herself, for the time being, as a journalist, she figured her answer needed to reflect a journalistic standard. “Well, I would, of course, want to be sure all of my facts were correct, but beyond that, I would have the last say over my writing. A good journalist can’t allow outside influences to dictate the content of her work.”

  “So what assurance do I have that you’re not planning to trash us and get readers by writing some sensational, scandal-mongering thing about the recent events at our ranch?”

  Erin settled back in her sofa cushions, intrigued by Zane’s wariness.

  “You don’t,” she said bluntly.

  She knew his family, the ranch, his new business had been through some rough times. That was why she’d been hired. Maybe his skepticism was understandable, but his distrust of her didn’t bode well for the mission for which she had been hired.

  “All you have is my promise, my word that I have no intention of hurting your family or causing your business any grief.” That much was true, and it felt good to be able to be completely honest in that regard. “I want to help your family get the Double M and McCall Adventure Ranch back on track, not derail you.”

  Zane was silent, and, conjuring the Facebook picture of him again, she could easily imagine him brooding, mulling his options. Square jaw set. Black eyebrows drawn down in meditation over those pale blue eyes. How would she handle working with him every day during her assignment at the ranch? She’d need to get a handle on her giddy attraction to him. Be professional. Not get distracted.

  “Your word?” His doubt was obvious in his heavy tone.

  “I know you have no reason to trust me, but it is the best I can offer.” Sensing she might have underestimated her ability to sell her cover, she searched for additional arguments to sway him.

  Before she could launch into a further spiel, he said, “I’m willing to have you come and get a look at the adventure ranch operation. We’ve made changes, repairs and are planning a relaunch in the spring.”

  She released her breath. “Great! I can be there—”

  “But—” he cut in, his voice firm and commanding. A delicious shiver slid through her. His take-charge, alpha-male authority was sexy. She liked a man who knew what he wanted and had the confidence to get it. “I can only speak for the adventure ranch. I’ll have to speak to my father before granting you full access to the ranch. He’s the owner here and has the final word regarding the Double M.”

  “Of course.” Erin smiled to herself and relaxed. “I’ll wait until you get approval from your father.”

  She was in.

  Erin knew before Zane could say the first word to his father. Because Zane’s dad, Michael McCall, was the real reason she was going to the Double M. Zane’s father was her client.

  * * *

  He spotted his blackmailer in Buckley’s Feed and Seed, and a black pit of loathing gnawed his gut. He didn’t want to call attention to himself and to have to face the threats the blackmailer was sure to make again. Though his business at the Feed and Seed wasn’t done, he’d much rather make a second trip into town than linger here and deal with another confrontation.

  Moving carefully toward the exit, he lost sight of the blackmailer as he edged past a tall display of winter clothes set up to look like a Christmas tree. The exit was in sight. If he could cross the open area just inside the door, near the checkout counter without being seen...

  He paused at the end of the aisle with hardware supplies, peering cautiously around the rack of axes and sledgehammers. The coast appeared clear. He took his opportunity and started quickly and quietly toward the front door.

  “Leaving so soon?” The voice sent a curl of acid and frustration through him.

  He sensed more than saw the source of the voice edging into his path, blocking the exit. He raised his head, nudging back the brim of his hat, to meet the leering expression on his tormenter’s face.

  “What do you want?” he growled.

  “I think you know damn well what I want.” The reply was hushed. Clearly the blackmailer didn’t want to draw attention any more than he did. Could he use that to his advantage?

  “Step aside,” he said. “This isn’t the time or place.”

  “Agreed. So meet me in the restroom. Two minutes.”

  No. Go to hell, you and your threats. I’m done with you. Dear God, how he wanted to say as much to the source of his anxiety and grief for the past several months. But too much hung in the balance. The blackmailer knew it, too, and gloated over the power, the ability to destroy his life, if he didn’t do what was asked.

  His enemy stepped away and disappeared down an aisle of nuts and screws. Appropriate, he thought with a derisive snort, since he was putting the screws to him. He thought of leaving, of ignoring the demand for a confrontation. But how could he risk incurring the wrath of his foe? One wrong step could trigger all the threatened repercussions to come down on him like a crapstorm. Worse, the blowback could hurt his family. His family was all he had, and he wouldn’t risk them to save himself.

  Gritting his teeth, he made his way to the back of the store. He killed a minute gathering himself as he feigned interest in the bridles and bits displayed on the back wall. Then he stepped inside the unisex restroom in the rear hall. His tormentor was waiting for him.

  “I’m tired of waiting.” No preamble or preliminaries. Straight to the point. “The herd doesn’t make it to auctio
n. Understood? Enough with the piddling stabs and pokes meant to slow them down. I want you to slash the throat of the operation. A fatal blow. Now. This year’s herd.”

  He’d been afraid that it would come to this. Bile rose, nearly gagging him. “How? Something that big won’t look like an accident.”

  “That’s your problem. Just finish them! If the herd makes it to auction, they’ll skim by for another year. I’m not waiting another year to get my revenge.”

  “But I—”

  “No excuses. Either the ranch goes down or you do.”

  He had to brace himself on the dirty sink as a wave of dread stampeded him.

  His blackmailer put one hand on the doorknob and paused long enough to deliver a parting shot. “No more stalling. One way or another, I want the Double M to die!”

  Chapter 2

  Zane studied the spreadsheet his sister, Piper, had prepared with the previous month’s expenses, and frowned. “Are you sure this is right?”

  When she didn’t answer, he glanced up and met her raised-eyebrow, exasperated expression. “No, Zane. I just threw some random numbers on the page for kicks.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I see marriage hasn’t made you less sarcastic.”

  Mention of Piper’s recent wedding brought a quick smile to her lips. “Nor has it made me less meticulous with my numbers.” She folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in the chair across the desk from him. “Besides, you ask me that every month, dork.”

  She added a lopsided grin to soften the epithet his siblings had given him when they were kids.

  “Yeah, okay.” He turned back to the computer screen and sighed. “Maybe I was just hoping there was better news than this. If we don’t start getting reservations and deposits soon, we’ll be out of cash before we open in April. I refuse to go back to Gill for another loan.”

  Just the thought that his high school rival and all-around SOB oversaw the business loan for McCall Adventure Ranch soured his gut. The sooner he and his siblings could get out from under that debt the better. But the numbers Piper had presented him this morning showed a lot of red ink and expenditures.

  “None of us want that,” Piper said and leaned down to pat the head of the family’s Maine Coon, Zeke. The cat rubbed against her shins and mewed at her. “I know, Zeke! Right?” she said to the cat. “See, even Zeke knows what a putz Gill is.” Dusting loose fur from her fingers as she rose from her chair, Piper flashed her brother a conspiratorial grin, which he returned. “I gotta go. I’m late.”

  “You headed out to pick Connor up from school?” Zane asked without taking his eyes off the computer screen.

  “Yep. What time do you expect that reporter to get in?”

  Zane’s chest tightened. Even though his family had been enthusiastic about having the travel writer come visit, he remained skeptical. Sure, good publicity, free publicity, would be great for the adventure company. But he’d gotten a weird vibe from the Well Traveled reporter that he hadn’t been able to shake. He trusted his instincts about people, and the odd conversation they’d had set him on edge.

  He flipped his wrist to check the time. “According to her last text, she should be here anytime now. She’s driving in from Boulder.”

  “Hmm. Guess I’ll meet her when I get back then.” Piper shouldered her purse and rattled her car keys as she headed out.

  “Tell my favorite nephew I said hi,” Zane called as she left the office.

  Zeke, abandoned by Piper, moved on to demand attention from Zane. The cat hopped up on the desk and walked in front of the computer monitor, his fluffy tail swishing in Zane’s face. “Uh, excuse me, Fluffbutt.”

  Zeke nudged Zane’s hand with his nose. Pulling an amused face, Zane scratched the cat behind the ear for a few moments then lifted him down to the floor. “Now, vamoose. I have work to finish before our guest arrives.” He gave the cat’s head a final pat before returning to the spreadsheets Piper had prepared.

  He stared at the dismal numbers with a pit in his stomach. No matter how many ways he tried to rework or reimagine the company budget, the bottom line remained the same. The delays in opening, the expense of rebuilding the zip line and increased insurance premiums had hit the fledgling McCall Adventures hard. Really hard.

  Zane jammed his fingers through his short-cropped hair and buzzed his lips as he exhaled his frustration. Zeke, who rarely took no for an answer, jumped into his lap and, purring loudly, head-butted Zane’s hand. He ruffled the cat’s head. “Thanks, pal. But what I need is about a hundred thousand dollars to get the business back in black.”

  “Zane,” his twin brother Josh said, thumping his hand on the office door frame. “Your reporter just pulled in the front drive.”

  “She’s not my reporter,” he replied, frowning, and not sure why the pronoun bothered him so much.

  “You’re the one said she could come stay and write her article.” Josh hitched his head toward the front of the family house. “Yours or not, get out here and greet her.”

  “You heard the man,” he told Zeke, shooing the cat to the floor as he pushed his chair back from the desk.

  “Dad?” he called down the hall toward his father’s office, “Ms. Palmer’s here if you wanna come meet her.”

  From the next door down, his father replied, “On a business call. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  Zane traipsed through the family home to the mudroom where he snagged his winter coat from the hook by the back door. Shoving his arms in his fleece-lined jacket, he hurried out into the frigid December air, arriving at the main drive in front of his family home just as the sporty, dark blue Toyota 86 pulled up to the house. While the family’s two blue heelers wiggled and wagged their tails in excitement, Josh opened the driver’s side door and introduced himself as he offered their guest a hand to help her climb out.

  Zane stopped in his tracks to stare as a woman with long, curling, dark brown hair and high cheekbones stepped out, flashing Josh an appreciative smile. He wasn’t sure what he’d imagined the freelance travel writer would look like, but this stunning beauty wouldn’t have been it. When her gaze met his and locked, his pulse jolted as if he’d been hit by the cattle prod.

  The bright smile she’d given Josh faltered briefly as she gazed at Zane, then returned to full wattage as she stepped forward, shucking her gloves to extend a bare hand. “You must be Zane. Erin Palmer. Nice to meet you.”

  Recalled to the moment and his manners, Zane returned a welcoming grin and gripped her hand. Her handshake was firm, her hand warm, her skin silky-soft. Zane became self-conscious of how work-roughened his own palm must be, but she seemed unfazed by his callused hand.

  “Welcome, Ms. Palmer.”

  One delicate eyebrow lifted, and she tilted her head. “Ms. Palmer? What happened to Erin? I thought after our phone conversation that we were on a first-name basis. I certainly would prefer to be less formal...Zane.”

  The way she said his name, as an addendum, her husky voice heavy with innuendo, her rosy lips twitching with amusement, caught him off guard. And shot a spike of lust through his blood. Zane arched one eyebrow, matching her gesture, and nodded once in agreement. “Erin, then. How was your drive?”

  “Blessedly traffic-free, although I did run across a good bit of ice on the road.” She had yet to release his hand, and he found himself drawn to her eyes. Eyes the deep green of—

  A loud clatter and shout drew her attention across the ranch yard. Erin’s hand dropped from his, her gaze seeking the source of the disturbance.

  “Hey, can I get a hand here?” Piper’s husband, Brady Summers, shouted. He was carrying a tall stepladder and stood next to the twenty-five-foot blue spruce tree that grew next to the stable. A pile of Christmas lights lay on the ground at his feet.

  Even as he tucked his hand in his pocket, Zane could still feel the satin warmth of her fingers, l
ike lingering impressions on his memory-foam mattress. He determinedly steered his brain away from thoughts of Erin and his bed. Clearing his throat, he turned to his brother. “Josh? Would you—?” Zane hitched his head toward Brady and the ladder. “I need to show Erin where she’ll be staying, help her with her luggage.”

  His brother, who already had Erin’s suitcases out of the sporty Toyota, said, “I can—” Josh bit off his words as he met his twin brother’s gaze and the silent message relayed in Zane’s expression. “I can...help Brady with the Christmas tree lights.”

  Josh flashed his brother a not-so-secret grin and play-punched him in the shoulder as he headed across the ranch driveway toward the massive spruce, the two dogs at his heels.

  “All right, then.” Zane moved to the bags and lifted one in each hand, while Erin slid an additional duffel over her shoulder. “If you’ll follow me...”

  Traces of slush and ice left from a light snow earlier in the week crunched under Zane’s boots as he escorted Erin across the ranch yard toward the bunkhouse-turned-guest-quarters. “You’ll have the run of the guesthouse. Once the adventure biz gets up and running again, this is where the clients will sleep during the on-site portion of the tours.”

  “Uh-huh,” she hummed distractedly, watching Brady position the large ladder with Josh’s help. She strayed from the path Zane was leading to get a closer look at the spruce. Setting the suitcases on a dry spot of ground, he followed her over to the tree that the family decorated each year with a copious number of lights and large red glass balls. The glass decorations were already hung on the tree.

  “Um...” Erin said as she approached the tree, putting her glove back on. “Can I make a suggestion?”

  Brady turned to face their guest, taking a moment to blow warmth into his hands. “Uh, sure.”

  Zane jogged a few steps to catch up to Erin and made the introduction to his new brother-in-law. After niceties were exchanged, Erin waved a gloved hand toward the spruce. “It’s easier to put lights on a tree if you do them before the other decorations.”