nesting instinct of a pregnant woman. Whatever it was, it had turned the day into a whirlwind of heavy lifting that had made every muscle in Taylor's body ache.
"I think I liked her better when she sat around on the couch and ate ice cream with me," she muttered to herself, not even bothering to open her eyes. It was only nine o'clock, but she was completely done for the night. She was pretty sure she was going to fall asleep in her boots. Even the mere thought of peeling them off her feet was exhausting.
She'd hoped to catch glimpses of her favorite eye-candy on the ranch, but she'd been buried in the basement all day and seen nothing but boxes, family heirlooms of dubious value, and Mira. According to Mira, Chase and Zane had been riding the pasture fences all day and had taken lunch with them. The men hadn't even appeared for dinner, which, in retrospect, was probably a good thing.
A day with Mira had reminded her that she was here to support her friend, not to indulge in stupid fantasies with short-term men. She'd met Erin, Steen's fiancée, briefly when she'd stopped by to steal some coffee filters, and Taylor had liked her immediately. She'd been a little jealous of the apparent friendship between Mira and Erin, a bond that had once included only Taylor and Mira, but Erin had been so lovely that Taylor hadn't been able to stay cranky and feeling sorry for herself.
Steen and Erin were apparently wrapped up in the construction of their new home and Erin's vet clinic on the south side of the ranch, but she'd invited Taylor by to see the progress. She'd been glowing with happiness, just like Mira, and their excitement had been contagious, but it had also made Taylor feel like a crotchety spinster aunt.
Either way, she was glad for the privacy of the tiny bunkhouse and a night off from having to socialize in a world she didn't quite fit in.
"Nice view." Zane's low voice slid over her as the door creaked open. "Is that an invitation?"
Excitement rushed over her, and she scrambled to a sitting position, depriving Zane of the view of her backside sprawled across the bed. As she righted herself, Zane strode into the tiny bunkhouse, using the heel of his boot to kick the door shut. He was covered in dust and grime, and he was wearing leather chaps over his faded jeans. His cowboy hat was tipped back, and his cowboy boots thudded on the wooden floor. Whiskers shadowed his jaw, and he looked every bit the rugged frontier cowboy, and nothing like the clean-cut starched-shirt businessmen she worked with every day. Zane was dangerous, elemental male, and just the sight of him made her stomach do flip-flops. "Of course it's not an invitation," she said, "I didn't think you were coming back here."
He unfastened his chaps and hung them on a hook by the door, showcasing exactly how well his jeans fit over his narrow hips. "Where else am I going to stay? The house is full, my bike isn't great for sleeping, and I'm too old to sleep in the barn with the horses."
"You're sleeping here? Again? With me?"
Zane looked over at her, his eyes dark and moody as he took off his hat and hung it on the wall. He ran his fingers through his hair, fluffing the indent from his hat as he strode across the room toward her.
Taylor stiffened as he bent over her, setting one hand on either side of her hips. His face was inches from hers, and the scent of leather and man slid through her like an intimate caress. "Darlin', I've spent the entire day working on a ranch doing things I swore I'd never do again, and all day, the only thing that's kept me going was the thought of wrapping myself around you in that bed all damned night. So, yeah, I'm sleeping in that bed, and if you drag out one of those old mattresses from the back room, I'm going to burn the damn thing up so you have nowhere else to sleep."
Her heart leapt, and she lifted her face to his. "Nothing's going to happen if you sleep here," she said. "I'm not going to have sex with you."
A lazy,
"I think I liked her better when she sat around on the couch and ate ice cream with me," she muttered to herself, not even bothering to open her eyes. It was only nine o'clock, but she was completely done for the night. She was pretty sure she was going to fall asleep in her boots. Even the mere thought of peeling them off her feet was exhausting.
She'd hoped to catch glimpses of her favorite eye-candy on the ranch, but she'd been buried in the basement all day and seen nothing but boxes, family heirlooms of dubious value, and Mira. According to Mira, Chase and Zane had been riding the pasture fences all day and had taken lunch with them. The men hadn't even appeared for dinner, which, in retrospect, was probably a good thing.
A day with Mira had reminded her that she was here to support her friend, not to indulge in stupid fantasies with short-term men. She'd met Erin, Steen's fiancée, briefly when she'd stopped by to steal some coffee filters, and Taylor had liked her immediately. She'd been a little jealous of the apparent friendship between Mira and Erin, a bond that had once included only Taylor and Mira, but Erin had been so lovely that Taylor hadn't been able to stay cranky and feeling sorry for herself.
Steen and Erin were apparently wrapped up in the construction of their new home and Erin's vet clinic on the south side of the ranch, but she'd invited Taylor by to see the progress. She'd been glowing with happiness, just like Mira, and their excitement had been contagious, but it had also made Taylor feel like a crotchety spinster aunt.
Either way, she was glad for the privacy of the tiny bunkhouse and a night off from having to socialize in a world she didn't quite fit in.
"Nice view." Zane's low voice slid over her as the door creaked open. "Is that an invitation?"
Excitement rushed over her, and she scrambled to a sitting position, depriving Zane of the view of her backside sprawled across the bed. As she righted herself, Zane strode into the tiny bunkhouse, using the heel of his boot to kick the door shut. He was covered in dust and grime, and he was wearing leather chaps over his faded jeans. His cowboy hat was tipped back, and his cowboy boots thudded on the wooden floor. Whiskers shadowed his jaw, and he looked every bit the rugged frontier cowboy, and nothing like the clean-cut starched-shirt businessmen she worked with every day. Zane was dangerous, elemental male, and just the sight of him made her stomach do flip-flops. "Of course it's not an invitation," she said, "I didn't think you were coming back here."
He unfastened his chaps and hung them on a hook by the door, showcasing exactly how well his jeans fit over his narrow hips. "Where else am I going to stay? The house is full, my bike isn't great for sleeping, and I'm too old to sleep in the barn with the horses."
"You're sleeping here? Again? With me?"
Zane looked over at her, his eyes dark and moody as he took off his hat and hung it on the wall. He ran his fingers through his hair, fluffing the indent from his hat as he strode across the room toward her.
Taylor stiffened as he bent over her, setting one hand on either side of her hips. His face was inches from hers, and the scent of leather and man slid through her like an intimate caress. "Darlin', I've spent the entire day working on a ranch doing things I swore I'd never do again, and all day, the only thing that's kept me going was the thought of wrapping myself around you in that bed all damned night. So, yeah, I'm sleeping in that bed, and if you drag out one of those old mattresses from the back room, I'm going to burn the damn thing up so you have nowhere else to sleep."
Her heart leapt, and she lifted her face to his. "Nothing's going to happen if you sleep here," she said. "I'm not going to have sex with you."
A lazy,
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