Harlequin American Romance October 2013 Bundle: Twins Under the Christmas Tree\Big Sky Christmas\Her Wyoming Hero\A Rancher's Christmas (63 page)

“Your hands are cold,” she said.

“I took off my gloves when I got you the hat.” Zach dropped his arms to his sides. He longed to kiss her—and more. But any of the ranch hands could be nearby. Already Curly suspected that something was going on between Zach and Gina, and Zach didn't want him or the other men catching sight of anything that would cause them to talk.

The shed where Lucky stored tractors and other heavy equipment was only a few yards away. “I want to show you something.” Zach caught hold of Gina's hand and tugged her forward. “It's important.”

“What is it?”

“It's important,” he repeated.

“Is it okay to leave the fire?”

With the ground covered in snow and no trees within fifty feet, there was no danger of a spread. He nodded and tugged her toward the shed.

Moments later, they stood on the far side of the building, out of view of prying eyes.

Gina looked around and frowned. “I don't see anything here except snow. What did you want to show me?”

“It's this way.”

Never taking his eyes from her, he backed her toward the siding. The curious look on her face quickly changed to something altogether different. Pure yearning.

When she was trapped between the shed and him, he placed his hands on either side of her head and kissed her.

She hesitated briefly, and then let out the soft little moan that drove him wild, placed her gloved hands around his neck and pulled him closer. Or tried. Thanks to their bulky coats, they barely touched.

That didn't stop Zach from catching fire. He wanted to drag her to the nearest bed, get naked and bury himself in her warmth. But that wasn't a good idea. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss.

“Let me know if you want help with the house,” he said.

Nodding, she stood where she was, against the wall, flushed and dreamy eyed, and watched him walk away.

Chapter Ten

One down, one to go, Gina thought as she hung up from a phone meeting Tuesday morning. The next call, to Evelyn Grant, was scheduled for an hour from now. With so much to do before leaving town, she wasn't about to waste a minute. She decided to empty Uncle Lucky's bedroom dresser and closet, which shouldn't take long.

Aside from well-worn jeans and flannel shirts, he didn't have a lot. Most of the clothing was ready for the rag bin, but a few items were in good enough condition for charity. She set those aside, along with his boots, which were in decent shape. His old Stetson sat on the shelf above the clothing rod.

At the sight of the battered hat, Gina's eyes filled. She couldn't part with that, so she set it aside, along with two photos. In one, she was about eight and seated on Belle, a gentle old workhorse, while a young-looking Uncle Lucky grinned by her side. The other was of her uncle and Zach on the roof of the barn, replacing the roof. Obviously mugging for the photographer, they held up tools and grinned against a cloudless blue sky.

In a white T-shirt and faded jeans, Zach looked gorgeous. A man didn't come by those biceps and flat belly without engaging in serious physical labor.

He was pretty serious about kissing, too....

Gina went all soft inside, caught herself and raised her chin. Zach wasn't what she wanted, and she was not going to kiss him again.

Setting the hat and photos aside, she reached for an ancient shoe box on the shelf. Men's dress shoes—she didn't remember her uncle ever wearing those. But the box weighed too little to contain shoes, and she heard the familiar rustle of papers inside.

“Oh, dear God, not more to sort through,” she muttered.

Dreading what she'd find, she pulled the lid off. The box was filled with letters. A whole stack of them, addressed to her uncle in neat, feminine script Gina didn't recognize.

The top envelope showed a faded postage stamp marked Red Deer, a town about forty miles away. The date was some thirty years ago, when she'd been a newborn and Uncle Lucky was in his mid-forties.

Curious, she sat down on the floor with the box, opened the envelope and slid out a folded, multiple-page letter.

The faint scent of rose perfume filled her nostrils. That and the
My Dearest Lucky
greeting had her eyes opening wide.

Apparently her seemingly celibate uncle had once had a girlfriend.

“Well, well, Uncle Lucky.” Wanting to know more, she went straight to page three, where the letter ended with,
I can't wait until next Saturday night. Love, Corinne.
Beside the signature was a hot-pink lipstick imprint. “Corinne with the sexy lips,” Gina murmured, smiling.

She'd never heard her uncle mention anyone by that name, but then he'd never mentioned a girlfriend, period.

According to the postage-stamp dates, her uncle had received weekly letters from Corinne for three years. Wanting to know why the letters had stopped and everything in between, Gina found the first letter and started reading.

Corinne had sent a thank-you for the birthday flowers Uncle Lucky had brought her on her twenty-seventh birthday. She'd been quite a bit younger than he.

She wasn't a great writer, but her stories about the animals treated at the large veterinary clinic where she worked made for entertaining reading. Corinne's insights and feelings about Uncle Lucky made the letters even more interesting, and Gina read them all. The last one, written shortly before Corinne's thirtieth birthday, broke Gina's heart. Corinne wrote that she was tired of waiting for Uncle Lucky to propose and ended the relationship.

He could've married and had kids. Kids that would be Gina's age and would probably have wanted to keep the Lucky A. Instead, he'd died childless and alone.

With a heartfelt sigh, Gina set the box aside. Suddenly she remembered. The phone meeting with Evelyn Grant! She'd completely forgotten.

She grabbed her phone and called Ms. Grant's private line. “Evelyn Grant,” said the crisp voice.

Gina swallowed. “Good morning, Ms. Grant, it's Gina Arnett. I, uh, I'm running a little late today, and I apologize. But I'm ready now and—”

“A
little
late? We scheduled our meeting for nearly an hour ago.”

Having never forgotten something so important in her life and never let anything come between her and her clients—especially this one—Gina felt both terrible and embarrassed. Her face burned with humiliation. “I'm so sorry. Do you have time now?”

“Kevin and I have already spoken.”

That was not good. As if on cue, Gina's other line buzzed impatiently. Kevin, the screen read. He would have to wait.

“Again, I am so sorry,” she said. “What can I do to make this up to you?”

“Don't blow me off ever again.”

The phone clicked harshly in Gina's ear.

Groaning, she buried her face in her hands. Not ready to face Kevin, she phoned her favorite Chicago florist and ordered the most expensive Thanksgiving flower bouquet available to be sent to Evelyn Grant immediately.

Then, biting the bullet, she called her boss and apologized.

Kevin's disapproving silence screamed in her ear.

“I sent flowers,” she added lamely.

“That doesn't make up for what you did. Grant Industries is one of our biggest clients, Gina. They represent substantial fees for us. Someone else could've taken over the account while you're out, but you insisted that you and Carrie could handle it. What's going on with her? Since you left she's hardly been at the office. You should've let me know she was falling short.”

He'd trusted Gina to do her job and she'd let him down.

“If we lose the account because of your mistakes...” Kevin let the incomplete threat hang in the air.

Knowing she was in trouble, Gina winced. “You have my word that I'll make this up to you and Evelyn Grant.”

“You'd damn well better.”

“I'll be in the office bright and early Monday morning, and everything will be fine,” she assured him.

“It had better be.”

In other words, her job was on the line. Kevin wasn't the most understanding boss. She'd seen people fired for less.

He hung up, the click of his phone sounding ominous—exactly like Evelyn Grant's.

* * *

E
ARLY
ON
T
HANKSGIVING
D
AY
Zach turned up the Lucky A driveway, the twenty-pound tom turkey he'd picked up from a rancher in another town tucked safely on the passenger seat of the truck. He looked forward to the great meal and the relaxing day ahead, but first there were chores that needed doing. He also needed to change clothes. Which was why he planned to drop off the bird at the house and come back later.

He was near the parking area by the back door when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen. It was his brother, Jim. Zach hadn't spoken to him since May, when he'd called to wish Zach a happy birthday.

He braked to a stop. “Hey, Jim.”

“Hey,” his brother said. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Back at ya. When are you and Susan taking the kids to Dad and Ava's for Thanksgiving dinner?”

“Four. I'll bet you're eating with the Arnetts again, watching a bowl game and enjoying the good company.”

Jim sounded envious. “That's right.” Zach wasn't going to say anything, but the words slipped out. “It won't be like last year, though. Lucky had a heart attack last week. He didn't make it.”

“That was unexpected.”

Zach cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“I'm sorry. So your Thanksgiving will be as dismal as mine.”

Zach snorted. “I seriously doubt that.”

“You're probably right. What are you going to do now that Lucky is gone?”

He wasn't about to explain about his promise to Lucky or about Gina. “I'll be here at the ranch for a while, tying up loose ends.”

“Are you coming home, then?”

“I'm already here. Saddlers Prairie is my home now.”

“Compared to Houston, that little burg has nothing to offer. Come back, Zach. It's time to stop punishing yourself for something that wasn't your fault.”

“I'm not punishing myself.” Anymore. “A man can change, and I did. I'm a rancher now. Why can't you and the rest of the family accept that?”

“Because you have an MBA from Harvard, and you built and ran a successful commercial real-estate business. That's why.”

“A business I sold.”

“For a hefty profit, and I respect that. People buy and sell businesses all the time. Start a new enterprise. Hell, ranches are businesses, too. If you bought one and ran it, I might understand. But you're working for someone else, and all your smarts and know-how are going to waste.”

They'd hashed through this umpteen times. Zach was in no mood to do it again. He snorted. “You sound more like Dad every day.”

“Don't play the Dad card on me. You know I want you to be happy.”

Zach thought about his life on the ranch, the hard physical labor and the feeling of accomplishment at the end of the day. “I am,” he said. “Send my love to Susan and the kids.”

“Conversation over—I get the message. Susan and the kids send their love back. You going to call Dad and Ava and wish them a happy Thanksgiving?”

Zach glanced at the lit kitchen window, which was all steamed up from whatever the family was cooking. He wanted to get in there, drop off the turkey, do his chores and hurry back. “Maybe later.”

In a far darker mood now, he pocketed the phone, plucked the turkey off the seat and stepped onto the back stoop. He wiped his feet and knocked before opening the door and stepping into the kitchen. “I'm here to drop off the turkey. Where do you want it?”

“You're just in time,” Gina said. She was standing at the stove, stirring something. “My cousins are making the stuffing now.”

In a plaid bib apron, she looked like a glamorous cooking show host—if you didn't count the forced smile and circles under her eyes. Looked as if she still wasn't sleeping well. Probably worried about something job related.

She wasn't the only one. Sunday morning she was leaving, and Zach still hadn't managed to change her mind about the ranch. He needed a plan, but hadn't come up with one.

“Ladies.” He nodded at Sophie and Gloria, who sat at the table, each chopping vegetables on portable cutting boards.

Sophie patted her hair and smoothed the bib of her own apron, as if wanting to look her best for him, and Gloria offered a flirtatious smile that would probably knock a seventy-something guy off his feet. Behind them, Gina shook her head, as in, what can you do with these two?

Zach couldn't stop a grin.

“Before you give that bird to Gina, show him to us,” Gloria said.

Zach held the turkey up for her inspection.

Sophie nodded approvingly. “You picked out a nice fat one. What does he weigh, twenty pounds?”

“A little over.”

“You did good, honey.” Gloria smacked her lips. “We'll be eating leftovers for days.”

“If that's a problem for you, I'm happy to help out,” Zach teased, feeling better by the moment.

“You know you're invited back for leftovers, just like always,” Sophie said.

The Arnetts were so different from his own family, who left their chef to cook and never shared the leftovers. “I'm counting on it. It already smells good in here.”

“It should—Gina's been working for hours, making pies, sweet potato casserole and cranberry sauce,” Sophie said. “We already told her that you're the official mashed potatoes and gravy expert.”

Zach nodded. “That's why they invite me back every year.”

Gina laughed, and a genuine smile lingered on her lips. Zach exhaled in relief and realized he'd been waiting for that.

“After Redd dropped us off here, he went to get the chestnuts,” Gloria said. “But he'll be back soon. He'll want to roast them over the fire and watch the game with you.”

“Then I better finish my chores, go home and clean up and come right back.”

* * *

“A
S
T
HANKSGIVINGS
GO
, this one ranks right up there with the best of them.” Uncle Redd gave Gina a fond look. “It's great to have you here in the bosom of our family, honey.”

“It's good to be here.” Gina meant that. Surrounded by family and Zach made it easier to set aside her worries about work. “I just wish Uncle Lucky were with us.”

“Oh, he's here.” Gloria glanced around and smiled. “I can feel him.”

Her sister sniffed. “Don't be ridiculous.”

“I
do
feel him. If you don't, then I feel sorry for you.”

“Well, stop.”

“Girls, girls,” Uncle Redd said. “We're celebrating Thanksgiving, remember?”

Gina glanced at Zach. Eyes twinkling, he shrugged.

She couldn't help laughing. “Now it sounds like the Thanksgivings I remember so fondly.”

“Sure was a good meal.” With cheeks that matched his name, Uncle Redd patted his round middle. “You girls outdid yourselves today, and Zach, those mashed potatoes and gravy were your best yet. Only trouble is, there's no room left in this belly for pie.”

Gina chuckled along with everyone else. She'd laughed a lot today, and she felt good.

Sophie pushed her chair back. “I'd suggest a walk, but it's too cold and slippery out there. Let's digest awhile before we think about dessert.”

“You all relax and I'll clean up,” Zach offered. In a sports jacket and khakis, he looked handsome. He slipped out of the jacket and rolled up the cuffs of his oxford shirt. He'd eaten as much as Uncle Redd, but unlike her uncle, his cheeks weren't flushed and his belly was still flat.