The Rancher's Rules

She took a deep steadying breath. “You demanded that I acknowledge the change in our relationship, which I did. Now we’re back to maybe we should not spend so much time together.”

He pulled into the Pattersons’ drive. He parked next to her truck, but didn’t turn off the engine. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow. It’s been a long, emotional day for you, and you didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

She unbuckled her seatbelt and shoved her door open before jumping out. “Silly me—I thought the emotion was mutual today.” She grabbed her purse off the seat and slammed the door.

She’d gotten the front door open before he caught up with her.

He spun her around to face him. He didn’t say anything. He just slammed his mouth down on hers in an incinerating kiss. His lips were hard and demanding as they moved over hers, forcing a response even though she was still angry. She pressed her body against him in an instinctual move that felt pretty dang primitive.

He slipped his hands inside her coat, and it wasn’t until his fingers had closed over bare flesh under her sweater that she came to her senses. She struggled against him, dragging her mouth away from his. “Stop.”

He kissed the side of her neck when she denied him her lips.

She pressed against his chest and shoved. “I mean it. Stop.”

His breathing harsh, he did as she demanded.

She pulled from his arms. “I’m not going here again. I need some time to think. Apparently so do you.”

He took a step back and dug his fingers through his dark hair. “Fine. You’re right.” He stepped toward his truck. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She nodded. She couldn’t speak. Her throat was too tight. She watched him move toward the truck, her insides twisted in knots. He stopped when he reached the driver’s side door.

“Zoe?”

“Yes?” The word came out as no more than a whisper, but he heard her.

“The emotion was mutual.” Then he was gone.

Grant finished feeding the horses and headed back up to the house. He wanted to get in his truck and go to Zoe, but that wasn’t an option. He’d called her this morning on the phone, figuring she’d had plenty of time to think about their relationship. She’d had all night. Evidently she hadn’t spent it thinking about them. She’d had the gall to tell him that she had slept and slept well. He rubbed his tired eyes.

He hadn’t. He’d spent the night tormented by images of Zoe on the countertop in the Pattersons’ kitchen. Zoe coming apart in his arms. The hurt on her face when she’d thought he’d made a date with Carlene. The feel of Zoe’s lips under his. He kept playing her reaction to his suggestion that they follow John’s recommendation to protect her from gossip over in his mind. He couldn’t get the look of wariness in her eyes when she’d told him they both needed time to think out of his mind.

Why had she been so upset last night? He’d only been trying to protect her. And why had she been so hesitant to admit the change in their relationship? He didn’t like it that she needed time today to think about it either. Or that she’d refused to see him until she was ready.

She should be ready now.

To heck with it. She’d had all day. He was going over there and they were going to talk things out. Besides, he needed to tell her that Bud had been picked up by his new owner. Grant could have used the phone, but he’d rather tell her in person.

He wasn’t going to say anything about the phone call he’d made not long after hanging up with her that morning, though. He’d called Mr. Jensen and read the older man the riot act. It was time the Jensens started treating Zoe like their valued daughter and not an afterthought. The older man was too stubborn to promise to change his plans, but Grant could tell he’d been shaken by the things Grant had said.

If the two didn’t show up for Christmas he would be surprised, but he wasn’t warning Zoe about the possibility on the off chance he was wrong. She would only be hurt more then.

He slammed into the house, leaving the back door open. He went to grab his truck keys from the hook by the door, but at the sound of tires crunching over the snow on his drive his hand froze midway. She’d come to her senses. He looked out the back window. Carlene’s stylish compact came into view. It halted a few feet from his back door.

Oh, hell. He’d forgotten to call her and set things straight. After giving vent to his frustration with a few well-chosen words, he went outside to face the music.

“Hello, Carlene.”

She turned on her high-heeled boot and gave him a strangely tentative smile. “Hi. I got off work early tonight, and instead of going home I thought I’d bring dinner. To make up for the other night, you know?”