The Rancher's Surrender

by Jill Shalvis

  Zoe blinked, for the first time considering that maybe Delia wanted Ty. It wasn't a silly thought, both Ty and Delia were adults. Human ones. But clearly Delia sensed the attraction between Ty and Zoe, and she'd never jeopardize that Zoe opened her mouth to tell Delia to feel free to make a move on Ty, but something held her back—a sort of strange ping to her midsection.

  Too many cookies, she told herself. Yeah, that was it, too many cookies.

  * * *

  Ty relaxed and bit back a grin, taking a moment to enjoy his view.

  It consisted of three shapely female rear ends, each wiggling enticingly.

  Maddie, Delia and Zoe all stood in varied positions, painting the front of the main house. Ty could have told them it was hopeless, that some of the siding needed to be replaced first and the trim was all but shot.

  But it would have been useless and heartless since he doubted they could afford to have the place fixed properly, anyway. If a cosmetic upgrade was what they wanted, they were doing a fine job.

  So he held his tongue and soaked up the interesting sight. Zoe saw him first, when she backed down from her stepladder. Surprise registered, then annoyance, then the expected temper. "You were staring at us," she accused him, dipping her roller into the paint. The sun lit her hair like fire. Her eyes were lit the same way, but it wasn't from the sun.

  He rocked back on his heels, enjoying himself. "Yep."

  Zoe's eyes narrowed at him, then she turned as if to confirm what he'd been looking at. Delia and Maddie were still painting, which meant their nice rears were still rocking and rolling.

  Zoe's teeth were grinding together when she looked at him again. "Get a nice show?"

  For weeks now Ty had been struggling to break through Zoe's barriers. He'd tried sweet-talking, he'd tried humor and sharp wit. He'd even tried seduction, and all it had gotten him was a bellyful of Zoe's fist.

  Her indifference remained, except for when he infuriated her, which was surprisingly easy. Then he got a full range of emotions, mostly anger.

  He'd take what he could get. Besides, he loved the spark that rage brought to her usually pale cheeks. Loved the heat in her eyes and the way her body reacted, whether she was aware of it or not. "Very nice show, thanks." He grinned. "Don't stop on my account."

  "Was there something you wanted?" she asked from a clenched jaw.

  "You know, you have a bad habit of talking like that, all tightened up. You're going to have jaw problems later on in life."

  "Thanks for the tip. Now, if you'll excuse us…"

  Delia and Maddie put down their rollers. It was late afternoon, and each of them had pink noses from being out in the sun. Delia still looked predictably put together, signaling she'd taken plenty of breaks. So did Maddie.

  But Zoe had a streak of paint across one cheek and exhausted eyes.

  Ty had already put in a full day training horses. More than a full day, actually, since one of his trainers had been sick. He'd been up since before dawn and was as exhausted as Zoe looked. All he wanted was a hot shower, lots of food and some sleep, and not necessarily in that order.

  Zoe, still glaring at him, swiped at a strand of hair blowing in her eyes. In the process she streaked more paint across her face and hair. Her shoulders drooped imperceptibly.

  From too much work? Or the prospect of what she still had to do?

  Either way, dammit, he was stuck.

  Hell. "Give me a roller," he muttered.

  "Here," Delia said quickly, handing her roller over without a qualm. "You don't have to ask me twice." She winked at Zoe and brushed her hands together. "Darn, now I don't have anything to do. Guess I'll head inside…"

  Zoe shook her head in disgust and watched her sister leave. She turned to Maddie. "Go ahead," she said. "You take a break, too, you've been at this all day."

  "So have you." Maddie swiped at her forehead, dipped her roller and started to lift it to the wood.

  "It's okay, we've got it," Zoe insisted. "Go on, Mad, rest it. Okay?"

  "Okay, but I'm making dinner, then." Slowly Maddie set down the roller, then looked at Ty. "You won't let her chase you off, will you?"

  He smiled at her. "If you're cooking? Not a chance."

  "All right, good. Stay and eat with us."

  His smile spread, and it was genuine. "I'm not arguing."

  Zoe was silent until Maddie had gone into the house. "We don't need any charity help."

  "You've been feeding me for several weeks now, so we'll just call it even."

  "I doubt a little food can compare to the work you've put into this place."

  "I'm still manager, Zoe."

  Her movements as she painted were jerky and it wasn't from inexperience. He'd caused it. He wondered if their close proximity disturbed her as much as it did him.

  "I've had enough people in my life who've tried to manage me," she grated, rolling paint. More rolling, almost violent now. "And I don't intend to ever have another."

  "I'm not trying to 'manage' you, Zoe. Just doing my job."

  "Same thing."

  He watched her paint and wondered how to break through to her. "Have I ever asked you to do something you don't want to?"

  She ignored him, which stirred his own temper. He took her wrist, held it still to stop her movements and leaned close. "Have I?"

  "No," she admitted, tugging at the wrist he refused to loosen.

  "Stop holding on to your painful past like a shield, Zoe. I'm not the enemy."

  Silence. Her mouth tightened and that was it, he was tired of fighting her. "Zoe?"

  She stopped struggling but didn't look at him, so he simply yanked her closer. "It's time to live," he said, not very kindly. "Live for yourself. And dammit, why don't you try to enjoy it for a change?"

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  « ^ »

  The fire in Zoe's eyes defied description. "I am enjoying myself."

  He let out a little laugh but didn't release her. "I can see that."

  "I am!"

  "You're a liar."

  "That's it," she fumed, dropping her roller and shoving him back. Paint splattered over both of their feet. "Oh, great, just great." She lifted a tennis shoe for inspection. "I'll never get these clean now."

  "You should be wearing boots out here, I've told you that. And gloves, too, dammit, to protect your hands. I thought you got some new gloves. Where are they?"

  With a guilty gesture, she reached into her back pocket and he saw the new gloves tucked there. Fresh and unused, when her hands were red and chafed. He didn't want to think about that strange bursting thing that happened to his insides, knowing that the gloves were a novelty and she didn't want to get them dirty.

  "Boots, at least," he said gruffly.

  "Yeah, well, boots cost money."

  "You know how to remedy the money problem, Zoe. The offer stands."

  Which was apparently not the right thing to say. She rounded on him with fresh fury. "Can't you just leave?"

  "Maddie invited me to dinner."

  "I want you to go."

  "That would suit you just fine, wouldn't it? Then you wouldn't have to face this."

  "Face what?"

  "Us."

  She shook her head and backed up a step, eyes wide with what he would have sworn was panic. "No," she said unevenly. "There's no us. You've gotten the wrong idea, that's all."

  He pulled her back so that they were face-to-face. "From the very first moment I saw you, we've been sparking off each other. Tell me you haven't felt it— Careful," he warned when she started to shake her head in denial. "I watch the pulse leap in your neck when I come close. I hear your breath catch when I look at you, and when I touch you…" His voice thickened as his own words made him hot. "And when I put my hands on you, I feel you quiver."

  "Sounds like the flu to me." But her voice shook. So did her smile. "I think it's passing now. You should go … you know, before you catch it."

  "I'm not budging, Zoe. It's time to hav
e this out."

  "Look, Ty, don't take this personally. But I don't have it out with anyone."

  "You have a terrible habit of hiding your feelings, Zoe."

  "That's a little like the pot calling the kettle black, don't you think?"

  "No. I have feelings and I show them. For instance, in case you haven't noticed, I'm turned on right now."

  "I've noticed," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.

  He cupped her jaw so she had no choice but to look at him. "For weeks I've been trying to break through to you, struggling to get past that damn block wall you keep putting up. I'm tired of being patient."

  Incredulous, she stared at him. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don't want you to 'break through'? That I'm just perfectly fine and don't need you?"

  "No."

  She let out a little laugh and gripped the front of his shirt in fistfuls, though whether to keep him at bay or hold him close he had no idea and suspected she didn't, either. "I've been trying for weeks, too—to ignore you."

  "I know. And I'm tired of that, too, tired of you pretending you don't care when I can see the passion burning in your eyes—passion for me!"

  She tried to laugh again, then tried to scoff at him, but failed at both. Instead, she clamped her mouth tight, looking suddenly vulnerable and nervous. "You're mistaken," she told him, pale now. "I'm not a … passionate sort. I'm not the kind of woman to have it burning in her eyes, much less—" She bit her lip.

  "Much less what, Zoe?"

  "Much less cause it in you."

  He could see she wasn't kidding, so he held back his startled laugh. God, could she really believe that about herself? "Zoe, I don't even have to see you to feel it. I just think about you and it happens. You're one of the most passionate people I know."

  Dropping her head back, she stared up at the sky. "Why won't you just go away? I really don't want to talk about this."

  She'd been hurt, that was obvious. At least one person had taught her that to feel hurts, and at the moment be wanted badly to hurt that someone. Instead he gentled both his hold and his voice. "It's time to let go, Zoe. Let go of what has hurt you. The past is over."

  "I feel, you know. I feel for this place."

  "Feel for me."

  Her eyes widened at the bold dare and she took a step back. "I … can't do that."

  "Why not?"

  "I just can't!"

  She was miserable, but he couldn't let her hide, not from this. "Tell me you feel nothing and I'll walk away right now," he said rashly. "Tell me."

  "I—" She closed her eyes. "I want to tell you that. God, I really want to tell you I feel nothing."

  "Then do it."

  Her eyes opened and she licked her lips with a nervous little dart of her tongue. With just that small movement he became aware of their position and how close they stood. Her breasts brushed his chest. Her thighs met his. And between them was a heat that made him dizzy. "Tell me," he urged quietly. "I have to hear it."

  They looked at each other, the air charged, and she said nothing.

  "Zoe."

  "When you kissed me," she whispered, staring at his mouth, "I saw fireworks. That's never happened before."

  A smile crossed his lips before he could stop himself. "Did you like it?"

  "Yes." She smiled, too. "That's why I punched you."

  "If we try it again, just started with a little kiss, what would happen?"

  "I'd probably still like it," she admitted.

  His smile widened as he leaned close. "Don't slug me again." And he came closer still, brushing his mouth lightly over hers once, then twice. "No biting, either," he whispered.

  A soft sound came from deep in her throat, and the soft, mewling neediness was irresistible. His hands slid down her arms to link his fingers with hers, and he took her mouth one more time, deeper, hotter. She met him, straining for even more. Then, when his brain was exploding with pleasure, she pulled back, put a hand to his chest and drew in a ragged breath. "Not good."

  In his highly aroused state, he could hardly place together a coherent thought. "Felt good to me."

  "You want something from me I can't give."

  "Believe me, what I want, you can give."

  "No, you want me to admit feelings that I … just can't. And…" She let out a little sound. "And never mind the rest."

  He stared at her. He knew the rest suddenly, sharply, as if she'd spoken. She wanted something from him, too, something he wasn't sure he was any more prepared to give then she was.

  The front door to the house opened and Zoe jerked back guiltily, even though they weren't in direct sight. But Zoe didn't want to get caught in Ty's arms and have to explain it to a curious, meddling sister when she couldn't even explain it to herself. She bent for the roller she'd dropped and let out an oath at the dirt clumped to it.

  Maddie called to them from the front steps. "Dinner's on. You guys hungry?"

  Ty hadn't moved an inch of his big, tensed body. He turned just his head and met Zoe's gaze. Something inside her chest tightened at his expression.

  His slate eyes held lingering heat and frustration, equally mixed. That long, rangy body of his was tight with anticipation and irritation, also equally mixed. He was so … so overwhelmingly male.

  In fact, he looked like trouble personified, and suddenly it struck her as poetic justice. He was aroused and angry about it, and that made two of them.

  "Not funny," he groaned quietly, reading her mind. "A guy could die of this, you know."

  "So could a woman," she told him, then regretted it when his eyes smoldered.

  "I'll take that as an admission," he told her bluntly. "And it's a start."

  With that, he walked around her and headed toward the front door, where Maddie stood watching them both with clear curiosity.

  Ty smiled at her, and when he got close enough for Maddie to hear, he murmured something that made her smile back at him in return.

  Zoe drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Another kiss like that, she thought, and she was going to go right up in flames.

  How did he do it? How did he draw her so completely out of herself? It was startling, and once again she used anger to ward off fear.

  He had some nerve, demanding she stop hiding and live. She did live. She did feel. Yes, maybe she did both of those things conservatively, but he had no right to criticize.

  Not when he'd so neatly neglected to tell her how he felt about her.

  She watched him set a gentle hand on Maddie's shoulder and lead her into the house. Maddie's soft laughter drifted to her and Zoe shook her head in disgust.

  He couldn't care, not really. Right? All he wanted was the land. But the uncertainty had Zoe's head spinning. He seemed sincere with Delia and Maddie. Then there was the way he treated her. He'd held her as if she were important and meaningful, with no intentions of fooling her in those eyes. The only thing shining there had been hunger and yearning.

  Apparently he'd grown up with even less love and affection than she'd had. Could he be just as reluctant as herself? She supposed it was possible, but it was so much easier to think the worst of him.

  Easier and far more simple.

  Momentarily forgetting he had as much reason as she to fear entanglement, Zoe vowed to put a stop to this insanity now. She would regain control of herself. That's all there was to it.

  Zoe stalked off toward the house, determined to do just that.

  The gloves she'd tucked into her back pocket flapped against her. Stopping, she reached back and jammed them in farther. She'd told Ty she'd gotten new gloves; what she hadn't told him was that they had appeared mysteriously wrapped in a brown sack in her bedroom the other night.

  Zoe knew they'd come from Delia. It was just like her sister to buy them secretly, simply because Zoe's hands were cracking from the unaccustomed hard work. Delia loved to give presents, and strangely enough hated to be thanked or acknowledged, which always made Christmas fairly interesting.


  Maddie and Zoe had long ago accepted Delia's inexplicable embarrassment, but now the gift meant even more. Shopping was a prized commodity out here in the boondocks. It was inconvenient, not to mention their precarious financial situation. Still, Delia had thought of her, and that was a thrill Zoe would never get used to.

  A funny sensation burst in Zoe's chest. Love? Most definitely. Easy to define, not nearly as easy to express.

  But that's what the gloves represented to her, a deep, abiding love. Maybe that's why she didn't want to ruin them by actually using them for work. It was her small, silly way of showing Delia that she loved her back.

  Showing was much easier than actually spelling it out. She wasn't proud of the fact she rarely told Delia and Maddie how she felt, when they told her often and easily.

  Old habits were hard to break. Ty might have made the mistake in thinking she could easily define how she felt about him, but Zoe could never make that same mistake.

  If she couldn't easily put to words her feelings for Delia and Maddie, then describing the wild and unpredictable feelings she had for Ty were all but impossible.

  Her solution—avoid him at all costs.

  * * *

  Zoe's plan backfired.

  There was no need to ignore Ty, not when he'd so effectively ignored her first.

  And he hadn't just ignored her, Zoe was forced to admit, he'd completely avoided her.

  On Monday he'd brought Maddie wildflowers for the table, disappearing before Zoe had come in for dinner. Tuesday he'd brought plans for the hot tub he'd promised Delia, once again doing the vanishing act before Zoe had set eyes on him.

  The week had continued like that, until by Friday she was alternately telling herself how much she enjoyed her peace and quiet, and chewing her nails into stubs wondering if she'd kissed so awful he'd decided she wasn't worth any effort at all.

  Friday night the three sisters had their weekly financial meeting, which had pretty much revolved around how bad that financial situation was.

  Fact was, they needed to get the ranch going now, if they had any hope of making this work. The problem was, none of them knew anything about ranching. So far the only thing they'd agreed on was that animals seemed easier than raising crops. Zoe had spent much of her childhood fantasizing about homes, but her practical experience was nil.