by Caro Carson
There was one thing Cole Quartermaine knew, and that was that he knew nothing about how to handle surly teenagers.
In particular, his surly teenage daughter, who was sulking in the passenger seat of his rental car, earbuds plugged into her ears, her mouth pressed into a flat, grim line.
She hates me.
No surprise there. It had been a fraught eight months since he’d first discovered the existence of fourteen-year-old Maisy, and that he was father to a girl who had no interest in getting to know him or having any kind of relationship. But he desperately wanted to work things out with his daughter...no matter how much she resisted. She didn’t care who he was, or that they shared the same blood. She called him Cole and he didn’t insist she say anything different.
To be honest, he wasn’t even sure how he’d react if she actually did call him Dad.
He concentrated on the drive and glanced to the right, at the sign welcoming them to town. Cedar River, South Dakota—population, three thousand and something. A speck on the map that sat in the shadow of the Black Hills. It was where he’d be staying for the next few weeks—a world away from Phoenix and the life he had there.
But he had to do it. For Maisy’s sake. The last few months had been hard on them both. She didn’t want to be with him, she didn’t want anything to do with him or his folks or either of his younger sisters. And since the alternative was foster care, Cole knew this might be the only chance he had of truly connecting with his daughter. When his lawyer and friend, Joel, had suggested it, he’d resisted the idea. He wasn’t a small-town kind of person. He had lived most of his life in Phoenix, Arizona, although he’d traveled the country extensively when he was competing on the NASCAR circuit. But now that he was retired from racing and managing his family-owned race team, Cole spent the majority of the year in his city apartment in Phoenix.
And this, he thought as he drove through Cedar River, with its one traffic light, wide wooden-planked sidewalks and mix of old and new storefronts, was not any kind of big city.
He checked the GPS and took a left turn, crossing the river over a long bridge that took them east, with another five miles to travel. When the electronic voice from the GPS told him they had arrived at their destination, Cole turned right and went through a pair of wide, whitewashed gates. He looked down the long gravel driveway and spotted a ranch house in the distance. There were several other buildings dotted around the house, most of them smaller except for the huge red barn with a white roof that stood out like a beacon beneath the glow of the midmorning sun. Several horses and about a dozen head of cattle were grazing in the pasture, and he spotted a couple of dogs roaming around the ranch house.
“We’re here,” he said, to himself more than anything, because his daughter hadn’t spared him more than a surly glance for the last thirty miles.
Ignoring the heavy knot of tension in his gut, Cole pressed on the gas and headed down the driveway. He parked several yards from the main house and turned off the ignition, then unclipped his seat belt and turned toward his daughter.
“Maisy?” He waited for a reply.
After a moment she removed the earbuds and raised a bored eyebrow. “What?”
“We’re here,” he said again and nodded toward the windshield.
She glanced around and then shrugged. “Lucky me.”
Cole fought the irritation climbing over his skin. He looked out the window and realized the place seemed deserted. Only the two large brown dogs were moving around the yard, circling the car warily. Great...maybe they were attack dogs. “Stay here,” he instructed and grasped the door handle. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
She shrugged with a kind of disinterest he was becoming used to and popped the buds back into her ears. Cole looked at her and sighed as he got out of the car. One of the dogs barked as he closed the door and he took a couple of wary steps toward the house. He could hear music coming from the direction of the barn and then headed that way, watching as the dogs continued to circle around him as he walked. When he reached the barn he noticed how the hounds remained on either side of the door, as though they were standing on point and had been well trained to do so. The music was pure country and exactly what he’d expect to hear on a ranch on the outskirts of a town like Cedar River.
“Hello?” he said and walked through the wide doors.
He spotted an old truck in the corner, propped up on a set of jacks. Then he saw a pair of legs sticking out from beneath the tray, clad in jeans and attached to a set of curvy hips and then a bare, smooth belly peeking out of a grease-splattered T-shirt that was riding up over a taut set of abs. Cole came to an abrupt stop and stared at the shapely female form beneath the truck. His insides twitched with a kind instinctive reaction he suspected was wildly inappropriate, since he didn’t have a clue who she was. But still, he let his gaze linger for a moment, before clearing his throat and saying hello again.
Then he heard a clang, a curse and then the hips shimmied across the ground and a woman sprang to her feet in front of him. The first things he noticed were her bright green eyes and thick red hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. His gaze traveled down her throat, her full breasts, her small waist and finally to her booted feet.
“Hey,” she said loudly and clearly, so she could be heard above the music as she tugged down her T-shirt. “My face is up here!”
Heat smacked Cole squarely in his cheeks and he met her gaze instantly. She was younger than him, maybe around thirty, and was effortlessly pretty. There was a smear of grease on her forehead and another on her chin, but it did nothing to quell the instant and blisteringly hot attraction he experienced, like a bolt of lightning that came out of nowhere. Her green eyes glared at him and he bit back a grin. Feisty redheads weren’t on his radar, not when he had more important things to worry about.
“My apologies,” he said and kept his eyes locked with hers. “When I walked in here I didn’t expect to find someone like you underneath the truck.”
“Someone like me?” she queried, and regarded him as though he was a chauvinistic jerk who belonged in a cave. “Do you think women should stay in the kitchen and out of the garage?” she asked, and wiped her hands down her jeans, then turned off the radio.
“Not at all,” Cole replied, his gaze unwavering. “I think it’s helpful to be good at most things.”
Her brows rose steeply. “And are you?”
“Good at most things?” He shrugged loosely. “Like most men I’d probably like to think so.”
She laughed and the sound hit him directly in the middle of his chest. Then she held out her hand before he had a chance to speak. “You must be Mr. Quartermaine. I’m Ash McCune.”
She’s Ash McCune...
And not what he had been expecting. Joel had neglected to say how young and attractive his cousin was. Cole knew very little about her, other than the fact she was a police officer, a single mom and had been a foster mother to many kids during the past few years. Which is why he’d brought Maisy to her South Dakota ranch. He needed help with his daughter. And Joel had insisted that Ash McCune was exactly the lifeline he needed.
The moment their fingertips met, heat immediately shot up his arm. “Please, call me Cole.”
“Sure,” she said and removed her hand. “You’re early. I wasn’t expecting you until late this afternoon.”
“Our flight was canceled and we had to switch to an earlier one. Is that a problem?”
She shrugged. “No problem. I just need some time to finish getting your cabin ready.”
Awkwardness twitched between his shoulders. “I guess I should have called.”
She shrugged again. “Like I said, no problem. I trust Joel explained our situation here?”
Cole’s mouth twisted. “Actually, he was pretty vague about everything, other than the fact you graciously agree to allow Maisy and I
to stay here for a few weeks.”
“Maisy? That’s your daughter?”
“Yes.”
She nodded. “And she’s fourteen?”
“She had a birthday last month,” he replied.
“Does she know why she’s here?”
Cole sighed. “She knows. And she’s not happy about it.”
Ash McCune’s vibrant green eyes widened. “For the record, by the time they get here, most of the kids are resistant to the idea. And it usually works out.”
“Usually?”
“Helping kids isn’t an exact science,” she explained. “And that’s what we do here—we help kids.” Her mouth twisted a little. “And the occasional parent.”
His mouth twitched. “I’m glad to hear it. In my defense, I’m new to this parenting gig.”
She nodded. “Joel told me. You’ve been friends with my cousin for a long time?”
“A few years. He dated my sister for a while a couple of years back. We’ve stayed friends and now he’s my lawyer. Joel was convinced you’d be able to help Maisy.”
“I’ll do my very best,” she said quietly. “But you do need to understand that I have no actual qualifications in child psychology. I’m an authorized foster-caregiver and have all the relevant documents to legally have children in my care. But there’s nothing scientific about our methods. I guess what I’m trying to say is that we get results here through patience and kindness and caring.”
“We?”
“My mom, Nancy, lives here and helps with the kids and I have an uncle who runs the ranching side of things.”
He nodded fractionally. “You’re a mother and a police officer, right?”
“Correct.”
“Then I’d say you have all the qualifications you need.”
She smiled and the action hit him way down low, in a place he’d somehow forgotten was there, and suddenly he felt about seventeen and keen to impress the cute girl in biology class. But he wasn’t seventeen and this wasn’t high school. It was real life. And he had a child who needed him to keep his head screwed on right.
“So... I should probably meet your daughter?”
Cole pulled himself from the foolish trance he was in and stepped back. “Of course. Ah, don’t be surprised or offended if she’s uncommunicative. My daughter doesn’t say a lot.”
“The sullen, silent type,” she said and began walking from the barn. “I’ve handled that before.”
And as he watched her hips sway as she walked from the barn, Cole was sure that Ash McCune could handle pretty much anything with one hand tied behind her back. Including him.
* * *
Good-looking men were nothing but trouble for a sensible, hardworking, small-town police officer and single mother. Logically, Ash knew that. But logic had spectacularly deserted her the moment she’d come face-to-face with Cole Quartermaine. Six foot something of lean, utterly gorgeous male with smooth brown skin, glittering blue eyes, broad shoulders and a sexy, megawatt smile wasn’t what she’d been expecting.
I should have Googled him. Or at least asked Joel for more information.
Usually she knew more about the people whom she allowed to stay at her ranch. She knew he was rich and came from a prominent racing family in Phoenix. But when her cousin had assured her that Cole Quartermaine and his daughter were in dire need of her help, she’d agreed without resistance. She trusted Joel and all she’d been given were names, a brief and abridged history of Cole’s occupation and the relationship between father and daughter, and an arrival date. She’d figured she’d simply find out anything else when they arrived.
Ergo, the hotter-than-Hades dad with the nice clothes and million-dollar smile who smelled absolutely divine was one major surprise.
And she didn’t like surprises. Not ever.
As she strode from the barn she could feel his gaze burning through her. She straightened her back and kept walking, heading directly for the flashy new sedan parked in her driveway. The dogs were now beside her, doing their job. Milo and Mitzy were well trained and would restrain on command...but the only restraint needed in that moment was on her unexpectedly resurfacing libido!
Ash got to the rear of the car and waited. He walked around her and she got a waft of his aftershave...or soap, or shampoo, or maybe it was just her starved pheromones gone mad and she was imagining he smelled like a pine forest after the spring rain. Whatever it was, it struck her with the force of a freight train and she had to pull on every ounce of her usual good strength to not look like some kind of sex-starved idiot over a man she’d met just five minutes ago.
But boy, oh, boy...he was hot.
Ash watched as he tapped on the car window and then waited as the door opened and a girl got out. She was extraordinarily beautiful, with dark curly hair, pale brown skin and blue eyes like her father’s. She had a small piercing in her nose and several long chains dangling from her ears. But there was no smile, no indication she was even remotely pleased to be where she was.
“Hi,” Ash said as cheerfully as she could muster and walked around the front of the vehicle. “I’m Ash McCune. And you’re Maisy Quar—”
“Rayburn,” the girl said stiffly. “Maisy Rayburn.”
Ash saw Cole flinch slightly and made a mental note. Right. Relationship between father and daughter is exceptionally strained and she doesn’t share his name.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Ash said and smiled. “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here.”
The teenager’s gaze darkened. “I’m here because he made me come,” she said and jerked a thumb in her father’s direction.
Ash glanced toward Cole. He was frowning and she felt her smile falter. He must have gotten her meaning because he quickly transformed the frown into a smile and when he did her insides immediately fluttered like a moth caught by the glow of a bulb. Damn...he was achingly gorgeous. Maybe the most delicious-looking man she had ever met. Perfectly put-together features, with just a touch of a whisker shadow and a military-style crew cut that amplified his good looks tenfold. Yep, Cole Quartermaine was obviously one of those men who had it all.
Great smile. Check!
Great shoulders. Check!
Great load of trouble ahead. Check!
“How about we head inside for some iced tea?” she suggested.
“I’d rather just go to my room,” the teenager said.
“I have to finish getting the cabin ready,” Ash said and pointed to a small building about one hundred feet from the ranch house. “And we should probably get to know one another first.”
The young girl’s expression narrowed instantly. “We’re staying in there? Are you kidding me? What a dump.”
“Maisy!”
Cole’s voice was sharply disapproving and his daughter recoiled for a second before shrugging her shoulders in a willful way that spoke volumes. Ash did her best not to take offense. She’d been a cop for over a decade and had fostered nearly twenty-five children during that time, so a thick and resilient skin was a necessity. But there was no doubt the man standing by the car was not as adept at handling teenage stubbornness and anger. Compassion for him quickly coursed through her blood, along with a deep-rooted and heartfelt ache for the girl who looked so solitary and mad at the world.
“The cabin is clean and tidy,” Ash said and walked toward the porch. When she mounted the first step she turned on her heels. “Things aren’t always what they seem. Take me, for instance,” she said, shoulders back as she met Maisy’s glare head-on. “Five feet four and one hundred and twenty-five pounds wringing wet—some people might think I’m a pushover. Those people would be wrong. Come inside the house, you can take your bags up to the cabin later.”
Ash turned and walked up to the house, opening the door and screen. She waited for her guests to follow and th
en stood back as they crossed the threshold. Cole ushered his daughter up the steps and Ash managed a tight smile as they moved through the doorway. She closed the screen and walked down the hallway, over the shiny polished floors and into the large kitchen at the rear of the house. The warmth of red cedar cupboards and dark granite countertops struck her as it always did. She’d had the kitchen renovated a year earlier and loved spending time in the big room, with its large scrubbed table and chairs and the pots hanging above the stove. Ash loved to cook and did so whenever she could shoo her mother out from behind the counter. Fifty-seven-year-old Nancy Olsen-McCune-Rodriguez was twice-married, twice-divorced and Ash’s right hand on the ranch. Along with Uncle Ted, her mother’s much older brother, who was essentially the ranch foreman and lived in one of the four cabins behind the main house. And of course, Jaye, her twelve-year-old son, whom she loved more than anything.
She washed and dried her hands and ignored the fact her clothes were grease-stained and she probably looked like an oily rag. “So, iced tea?” she asked and looked at her two guests, who were hovering in the doorway.
“Sure,” Cole said and stepped farther into the room. “Nice place you’ve got here.”
Ash nodded. “My grandparents bought the ranch over fifty years ago. When they died they left it to my uncle and Mom and me,” she said and grabbed the jug of iced tea from the refrigerator, then filled up three glasses with ice and a sprig of mint. “We run a few head of cattle and some horses. And we have chickens, an adorable alpaca and a few goats.”
“And two big dogs.”
She met his gaze and smiled a little. “They look formidable, but they’re quite civilized.”
“He hates dogs.”
Maisy’s voice was muffled but decipherable and Ash raised a brow. “More of a cat person, are you?”
He shrugged. “Not especially,” he replied and glanced toward his daughter. “And I don’t hate dogs. I just have...allergies,” he said and shrugged again.
“He’s allergic to everything.” Maisy again, even more disagreeable than before.