The Rancher's Rules

“Thanks.” She took a bite of her pasta and then licked the fork. The temperature in the kitchen shot up. “You know how nervous I get when my kids are performing, and I’m not even on the program committee this year.”

“Yeah.” He smiled, trying to hide his reaction to her innocent actions. “One year you’d unraveled an entire knit scarf by the end of the program.”

She laughed, her head going back to expose the creamy column of her neck. He wanted to reach out and touch the smooth skin. This was nuts. He stood up.

“Where are you going?”

He stared. Where was he going? “The bathroom.” What could she say about that?

When he got to the bathroom he turned on the cold water and bathed his face. Looking in the mirror, he glared at his reflection. “Knock it off. Zoe’s off-limits.”

The man staring back at him looked unconvinced. He splashed cold water on his face a second time and dried it. He felt marginally better. Now, if Zoe would just refrain from licking her fork, all would be well.

He went back into the kitchen and sat down across from her again. She smiled. He smiled back and nearly choked. She’d picked up a piece of asparagus and was systematically licking all the butter off the vegetable.

“This is really good. You sautéed these perfectly.”

Her guileless comment mocked his randy response. He mentally chastised himself for his unruly thoughts, but it didn’t make his jeans any more comfortable. By the time Zoe had finished the fifth prong of asparagus he was sweating and hard as a rock. At this rate he wouldn’t be able to get up from the table when dinner was done.

She looked at him, her eyes darkened with concern. “Are you okay? You’re perspiring. I hope you aren’t coming down with something.”

“It’s too warm in here. I must have the thermostat set high.” He knew it was a lie. He hadn’t changed his thermostat in days. But what else could he say? Watching his best friend eat her dinner had him so hot he was melting?

He breathed a sigh of unfettered relief when Zoe did not take a second helping of vegetables.

Later, he got the longest T-shirt he could find for her to wear to bed and then headed for his office. Why bother going to bed? He wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep, knowing Zoe’s too tempting body was down the hall nestled in his old bed. She was going back to the Pattersons’ tomorrow, even if he had to drive her in a blizzard.

Zoe snuggled down under the quilts on Grant’s childhood bed. Dinner had been very entertaining. Grant might have a rule against kissing her, but he sure wanted to. His gaze had strayed to her lips twelve and a half times. She’d counted. One time he had only looked at her neck before looking away, thus the half. She was certain that he’d wanted to look at her lips.

She’d made it interesting for him, trying her best to eat her food as provocatively as she could. At one point, she’d almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

He deserved it, making that crack about kissing anyone but her.

The following morning, Zoe woke up to chattering teeth and the smell of bacon cooking. It took her a moment to realize the person doing the chattering was herself.

Had they lost power last night in the storm? She could not believe that Grant or the foreman hadn’t started the generator yet. She gritted her teeth and tossed back the covers. She yanked on the sweats Grant had lent her, which she had refused to wear to bed with the oversized T-shirt. She also donned a pair of thick socks, and went searching for a flannel shirt in Grant’s closet.

After pulling on one of his shirts, that hung down to her knees, she went to the kitchen to find him. He stood at the stove, turning bacon. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of pork cooking and made a beeline for the coffee.

“It’s freezing in here. Did something happen to the furnace?”

Grant slid a mug for her coffee across the counter toward her. “No.”

“Then why is it so cold?” Zoe wrapped her hands around her mug, letting the heat seep into her chilled skin.

“Is it cold? Doesn’t feel bad to me.”

Grant wore a sage-green turtleneck under a black flannel shirt, faded jeans and cowboy boots. Of course he wasn’t cold. The man was dressed to work outside. He did a lot more work on the ranch this time of year, so his hands had time to do the holiday thing with their families. But could he really be that dense? She walked into the hall and checked the thermostat.

“Fifty-eight degrees? Grant, are you nuts? No wonder I’m freezing.”

She went stomping back in the kitchen and came to an abrupt halt at the look of satisfaction on Grant’s face. Evidently he had a few little surprises of his own. “This is about your kissing rule, isn’t it?” And dinner last night.