Helen Lacey - The Rancher's Unexpected Family

“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.

Ash’s eyes widened. “Everything?”

She noticed his cheeks darken. “Not everything. Bees,” he explained. “And shellfish.”

“Then I shall try not to poison you with my seafood paella,” Ash said and smiled. “I trust you have an EpiPen on standby?”

“Always.”

“My son has a nut allergy, so I’m well-rehearsed in emergency trips to the ER.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said and his mouth twitched in a half smile that sent her awareness of him skyrocketing. “As long as I stay out of your flower bed and avoid your paella, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Flirting...

For one crazy moment that’s what it felt like. Which was ridiculous, since his daughter was standing in the room and Ash hadn’t known him for more than fifteen minutes. But still, the notion lingered. Ash filled up the glasses and passed them around, careful not to get too close to the man now sitting on the far side of the dining table. She pushed the glass across the table and invited Maisy to take a seat. The teenager shrugged, clearly feigning an overinterest in the music coming from the buds she had in her ears so she wouldn’t have to talk. Ash was familiar with the ploy and pulled out a chair for Maisy, opposite her father.

“Take a seat,” she said and smiled.

The girl cranked her gaze toward her for a moment, then plunked heavily in the seat. “Sure. Whatever.”

Ash moved around the table and sat down, then directed her gaze straight onto the angry-looking teenage at the end of the table. “So, Maisy, tell me why you’re here?”

Dark blue eyes flicked up and glared at her. “Because he made me.”

“Yes, so you said,” Ash said with controlled patience. “I want to know why you think you’re here.”

She shrugged. “So I get to stay out of social services.”

“Is that where you think you were heading?”

“Ask him,” she said and jerked her thumb once again in her father’s direction. “He’s got all the answers.”

Hot Dad was about to respond when Ash held up a hand. “I’m asking you, Maisy.”

The teenager shrugged again, but wouldn’t look at her. “I dunno...maybe. I’ve done some stuff.”

“Stuff?”

Maisy glanced up, her gaze angry and resentful. “I stole a stupid book from a stupid store and got busted. They called the cops and then he had to bail me out.”

Ash took a sip of tea and nodded. “Do you like to read?”

The teen’s expression narrowed suspiciously. “Read? Yeah, I guess.”

“We have quite an extensive bookshelf here,” Ash said and smiled. “In the front living room. My mother is an avid reader and collects all kind of books. You’re welcome to read as many as you like while you’re here. Or there’s a great library in town, if you prefer.”

“I like fantasy books.”

“So does my mom,” Ash said quietly. “She’s going to enjoy having someone to talk to about them. I’m not much of a reader, unless it’s a cookbook.”

Maisy unexpectedly rattled off the names of several of her favorite authors and titles before settling her gaze back into her lap and then clearly upping the music volume. But Ash was pleased with their exchange. Small steps, she knew, were hard at first, but well worth the effort when it came to a lost child.

Now all she had to do was get Cole Quartermaine out of the hot-dad category and everything would be fine.

Yep...easy.

Not.

* * *

Cole couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. Maisy communicating. Maisy talking. Maisy actually connecting with someone. In that moment he could have gotten up and kissed Ash McCune for getting his usually uncommunicative daughter to have something that actually resembled a real conversation.

Kiss Ash McCune...

Okay, maybe not.

For one, she looked feisty enough to hit him over the head with a frying pan. And secondly, thinking about kissing her was plain old stupid. Despite the fact he found her so attractive. He was in Cedar River for one thing—his daughter. Nothing was going to derail that. Not the fact that he’d suddenly discovered he had a thing for redheads.

“My mother homeschools, by the way,” Ash said, getting his attention. “Four hours every weekday. In case you were concerned about Maisy keeping up with her schoolwork.”

He nodded. “How many kids do you have staying here right now?”

“Three,” she replied and glanced toward his daughter and then back to him. “Four. Plus one.”

He didn’t think he’d ever been anyone’s plus one before. Cole kept his gaze locked with hers and heat instantly climbed over his limbs. He ignored the feeling and drank some tea, which tasted like poison and made him grimace.

“Not a tea drinker I take it?”

He shrugged loosely. “More a coffee and beer kind of guy.”

Her expression narrowed fractionally. “This is a dry ranch with a strict no-alcohol rule.”

Great. “Sure.”

“For the kids’ benefit,” she explained. “Troubled teens and alcohol can be a bad mix. So, I keep the place free of the stuff. Much to the dismay of my uncle Ted.”

Cole understood. “I’m not much of a drinker,” he said quietly and endured another sip of the poisonous beverage in front of him.

“We also have a no-smoking rule.”

He looked up and met her green gaze. “I haven’t lit a cigarette since I was twenty-one.”

She sipped her tea and smiled. “Sounds like you are vice-free.”

Cole’s skin prickled. “I’m as flawed as anyone else.”

Her eyes widened for a moment and it was incredibly sexy. Even the grease mark still on her chin was sexy. He wondered why every word between them sounded like some kind of crazy flirtation. He wasn’t in the market for flirting. For anything. And definitely not with a woman like Ash McCune. He didn’t do relationships anymore. He kept his love life casual and had since he’d split with his ex-wife and gotten out of their two-year marriage a few years earlier—he’d lost his house, his heart and a good chunk of his savings.

Cole shrugged off the memory and got to his feet. “We should probably unpack.”

She stared at him for a moment. “Sure. I’ll just get the bed linen. I’ll meet you outside.”

He took off as though his heels were on fire, instructing Maisy to follow. By the time he was at the car and had taken their luggage from the trunk, the knot of tension in his shoulders had lessened. Until Ash McCune came around the porch and down the steps, carrying a wicker laundry basket piled with sheets and towels.

She swayed when she walked. Swayed. Damn.

Get a grip, Quartermaine.

Cole grabbed both his and Maisy’s suitcases and left his daughter to bring his laptop and her small tote. He stayed several feet back as he followed Ash around the rear of the house and toward the largest of the five cabins that were all within a couple of hundred yards of the main house. She placed the basket on one hip, climbed the steps, opened the door and then walked inside. Cole did the same, instructing Maisy to follow, but her cell rang and his daughter quickly dropped her bag onto the porch near the door and sat down on the step. Figuring it was one of her school friends, he told her not to take too long and gave her some privacy, then entered the house.