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What was this, the welcoming committee? It was hard enough meeting strangers and now she felt as if she were suddenly on a stage. Maybe it was a dude ranch tradition… the whole family greeting the new guest. She shuddered. Weird. This was precisely why staying at a B and B had never appealed to her. People expected conversation and small talk. Definitely not her strong suit.
Bracing herself, she put the SUV in Park and turned off the ignition. She grabbed her purse and opened the door. The sound of an engine confused her for a second. She looked at the keys in her hand.
The noise was coming from behind, she realized, and twisted around to see that a huge black pickup had followed her down the driveway. With the windows rolled up and the heater going, she hadn’t heard it. The driver parked closer to the house and it was quickly apparent that Shea wasn’t the reason everyone had rushed to the porch, and she had to laugh at her own paranoia. At least she could see the humor in it now. Climbing out of the car, she smiled as the younger woman approached her and the other two converged on the truck.
“Shea Monroe, right?” she said, grinning, and Shea nodded. “I’m Rachel. We spoke when you made your reservation.” The woman extended her hand.
“Yes, I remember.” Shea started to pull off her glove but Rachel stopped her.
“Don’t. It’s freezing.” Rachel laughed and squeezed Shea’s gloved hand. “At least I had enough sense to grab my jacket.”
“Thanks again for giving me a room. I swear I’ll be no trouble.”
“Hey, we’re big supporters of Safe Haven. It’s so nice of you to give up your holidays to volunteer. My brother works with them quite a bit and occasionally we foster horses.”
Shea’s gaze automatically went to the man and the older woman who stood beside the truck. He was very nice-looking, about her age, she guessed.
“That’s Trace over there with our mom,” Rachel said. “He’s one of the hooligans but not the one I was talking about.” The new arrivals, a man and a woman, stepped out of the truck and Rachel waved frantically at them. “That’s my other brother Cole and his girlfriend, Jamie. He just picked her up at the airport. She’s come to spend Christmas with us.”
“Oh, you have two brothers. How nice,” Shea said, and when Rachel gave her a quizzical look she just smiled. No, she wasn’t a sparkling conversationalist, so better everyone know now.
“I have three.” Rachel studied her a moment. “You probably noticed them on the website.…”
“Oh, right.” She wasn’t in the habit of lying, but having noticed her brothers seemed to mean something to Rachel so Shea didn’t see the harm in the small fib.
Rachel titled her head slightly to the side, amusement dancing in her bright green eyes. “Or maybe not. It doesn’t matter. I’ll help with your bags and then you can meet everyone.”
“No, please, go be with your family. I’ll be along in a minute.”
“No worries. I’ll see them later.” Rachel swung around to the back of the SUV. “How many bags? I can get Trace to—”
“That’s not necessary,” Shea said, cutting her off then feeling ashamed for being rude. She cleared her throat. “Thanks, but I don’t have much and I need to do some rearranging before I come in.” She paused. “If that’s okay?”
“Sure. I didn’t mean to rush you. Take all the time you need.” Rachel lightly touched her arm, the understanding in her eyes a bit unnerving. “We can be a boisterous bunch, but I promise we don’t bite.”
Shea managed a grateful nod before Rachel turned away, then felt her face flame. She hated the random attacks of shyness that plagued her when she was around too many people. Quickly, she opened the back hatch and busied herself with sifting through her suitcase. A few things, such as her heavy boots and mittens, could stay in the back of the car. No sense lugging them back and forth to the house. She’d need them at the shelter, not here.
Her gaze drifted toward the animated group as they chatted and laughed, grabbing luggage and totes full of wrapped presents from the back of the truck. Cole was tall and dark like Trace, with hair that brushed his collar. And the honey-blonde woman, Cole’s girlfriend, was very pretty. She seemed comfortable with the family, as if she’d known them for a long time.
Shea couldn’t help but be a little envious of the lively group. The men not so much, but the three women were gabbing as if there wasn’t enough time to get everything in. Good for them. But being an outsider was fine with her. Comfortable. Familiar.
She had the strangest feeling that someone was watching her and turned to scan the outer building. An indistinct rider was galloping in from the south. Appearing oblivious to the cold, a pair of beautiful roans munched hay from a bale in the corral. It was close to dinnertime so she wasn’t surprised that there were no workers in sight. The only other sign of humanity was smoke streaming out of the smokestack of one of the brick-and-wood buildings, probably the bunkhouse.
She started to turn back to sorting when she saw him under the archway to the barn. She’d almost missed him, standing in the shadows, lean and tall—well over six feet. He wore faded jeans, a brown flannel shirt, boots and work gloves, and he stared out, though not at her. His attention was on the family, who now headed toward the front steps.
She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from him. He could’ve been a McAllister. He had the same coloring, the height, the same dark hair as the two brothers, except his was much shorter, almost a military cut. But that wasn’t what made her doubt he was one of the brothers, it was the way he held himself back from the group. Like an outsider idly looking on… like she had.
Maybe he was one of the hired hands. Very good-looking, at any rate. Just an observation. It wasn’t that she was interested. She was totally done with men. They weren’t worth the aggravation. Even sex was overrated in her opinion. Focusing on her work gave her far more satisfaction. And she hoped her time at the shelter would help fill her need to connect with another living, breathing being. Preferably a horse. She loved horses, always had.
Shea smiled as she thought about all the childhood letters she’d written to Santa asking for a pony. But all she’d ever gotten were silly froufrou dresses from her mother and educational toys from her father. Oh, and that trip to Disneyland when she was nine. Her parents had argued the entire time and divorced three months later.
A week after her father had moved out of the house, Shea had asked for a dog, but her mother had refused what she deemed an “added burden.” It had probably been for the best. The way Shea had accelerated though prep school and then college, she’d never really had time to care for a pet. But she was seriously considering adopting a dog now. She still worked ungodly hours, but maybe she could trade her corner office for a kennel on the first floor. After all, other employees were provided day care for their kids.
The family had disappeared inside and the man from the barn had disappeared, too. If she didn’t hurry, she knew Rachel would send someone after her. Shea swung her suitcase out of the back, then hurried toward the porch. All she wanted was for someone to point out her room, where she could hibernate until it was time to head to the shelter in the morning.
JESSE STOMPED the dried dirt off his boots outside the mudroom door, then entered the small space that led to the kitchen. His eyes were gritty and he still hadn’t gotten all the filth off his hands even though he’d been wearing gloves and had washed up some in the barn. He didn’t care. Manual labor was exactly what he’d needed. His back and shoulder muscles were pleasantly sore and just maybe he’d get a full night’s sleep.
“Good. You’re here,” Rachel said before he’d opened the kitchen door all the way. She ran her gaze down the front of his shirt and jeans and wrinkled her nose. “What have you been doing?”
“Cleaning out the barn shed. We had too much equipment packed in there.”
“God. Go take a shower. We have guests.”
“Jamie will be here a whole week. And she came to see Cole, not us.”
“I wasn’t thinking only of Jamie but of Shea, too.” Rachel opened the oven and the spicy smell of lasagna filled the kitchen.
His stomach growled. “What about her?”
“Cool the attitude. It’s not as if she’s a regular guest,” Rachel said, throwing him an annoyed look while pulling on oven mitts. “She’s going to be at the shelter most of the time and only here to sleep. So if you’re still pissy about me taking her in, get over it.”
“I don’t care who’s here. I doubt I’ll be around much myself.”
The sudden hurt in Rachel’s eyes made him look away. She said nothing, but concentrated on taking the steaming dish out of the oven.
“I’ll go take that shower,” he murmured and kept walking.
“Jesse?”
He wanted to ignore her. He wished he hadn’t made that unnecessary crack about not being around. “What do you want, squirt?”
She didn’t react to the hated childhood nickname. “It’s almost Christmas. You know how much the holidays mean to Mom.”
“I’m not gonna mess anything up, okay?”
“Not on purpose you wouldn’t.”
Sighing, he briefly closed his eyes and rubbed them with the heels of his hand. “What do you want from me, Rachel? I cut down the trees for the living room and the den, strung the lights along the eves. I’m here. I’m participating.”
Except he wasn’t really here, not emotionally. That’s what Rachel was getting at, even though she managed to give him a small smile. “I know, Jesse. You’ve been great about helping us decorate. You have far more patience than Cole or Trace for that sort of thing.”
He tugged at a tendril of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “Shower first, then I’ll help set the table.”
“I have something else I’d rather you do,” she said quickly.
“What’s that?”
“Shea is staying in the guest wing. First room on the right. Knock on her door and tell her dinner will be ready in ten.”
He opened his mouth to refuse, then just nodded. Hell, he didn’t have to be in a hospitable mood to knock on a door.
“And don’t take no for an answer,” Rachel added, wagging a wooden spoon at him. “I’m holding you responsible.”
Jesus, his sister could be a pain in the ass. He waved her off, headed out of the kitchen and took the stairs two at a time to the second floor. Voices and laughter came from the den and he thought about yanking Trace away to go get the woman. But that wouldn’t be fair. Besides, once he showed his face he’d have to acknowledge Jamie, then make small talk.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like Cole’s girlfriend—he did. He was glad they’d hooked up. His brother couldn’t have done better. But there would be enough time for socializing at dinner. The forty minutes of mindless pleasantries seemed to be as much as Jesse could handle lately.
He’d peeled off his clothes, showered and shampooed in nine minutes, then stood at the woman’s door, trying like hell to recall her name. Didn’t matter. Basically, he was only delivering a message.
She answered his knock immediately, warily pulling open the door a few inches and regarding him with surprised gray-blue eyes. She blinked, did a quick survey of his flannel shirt and jeans, then met his eyes again. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Um…” He stepped back. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
Blinking again, she opened the door a little more, enough for him to see that she also wore jeans and that her feet were bare. “I saw you earlier.” She moved the long bangs away from her eyes. “Are you Rachel’s brother?”
Jesse nodded and almost smiled at the trim woman. Straight off, there was something different about her. Unlike so many of the females who’d been guests at the ranch, she hadn’t been artful or flirty with her hair, she’d just shoved it out of the way. “Dinner’s ready,” he said, disengaging from her forthright stare to get a better look.
Shea held herself tall even though she wasn’t. He’d guess five-six? A little thin, but no big deal. While her body was pleasant, he was drawn back to her face, her unusual eyes with their dark lashes. He liked that she had full lips but didn’t wear a hint of lipstick on them. He might not mind the look of the gloss, but he’d never liked the taste.
“Uh,” she said, shaking her head, her straight light brown hair swinging from side to side and bringing him back to the conversation. “I’m not eating with you.”
He didn’t know what to say at first and just stared as she pressed her lips together, making one cheek dimple. “Should I take this personally?”
“No,” she said matter-of-factly. “I promised Rachel I wouldn’t be any trouble. I have some cheese crackers here.…” A slight frown puckered her brows. “There’s no rule against eating in the rooms, is there?”
“I doubt it.” Jesse laughed. “Look, Rachel made lasagna. If you don’t come down, she’ll be charging up to get you. Not to mention I’ll get chewed out.”
“Hmm, this is a bit awkward,” she said, with a frank unwavering gaze he found intriguing. “Honestly, I didn’t think this would be an issue.”
He moved farther back to give her space. “For now how about coming downstairs with me? I can smell the lasagna from here.”
She sniffed, and her stomach growled loudly. She glanced down with annoyance and pressed a hand to her flat belly. “I haven’t had home cooking in a long time, and you’re right, it smells heavenly.”
“My sister can be a pain in the neck, but I’ll admit, the woman can cook.”
She flashed him a quick smile. “I’m Shea, by the way. Did you tell me your name?”
He shrugged. “It’s Jesse.”
“Pleased to meet you, Jesse.” She offered her hand in an unexpected businesslike manner.
“Likewise.” He liked her firm grip, the softness of her palm pressed against his. “I hear Rachel rounding up everyone.”
“What?”
“I think dinner is on the table.”
“Okay.” She released his hand and dragged her palm down the front of her jeans. She slipped through the doorway into the hall, still barefoot.
“No one will care whether you’re wearing shoes or not, but you should know we have wood floors downstairs.”
Shea looked down. “Oh.” She grinned and wiggled her toes. When she lifted her gaze, her cheeks were slightly flushed, making her eyes seem a little bluer. “I forgot. You go ahead if you want. I’ll be right there.”
He watched her disappear into her room but didn’t move except to fold his arms across his chest, lean against the wall and wait. The irony of him being the one Rachel sent as the family’s goodwill ambassador wasn’t lost on him. He of all people couldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to sit around with a bunch of strangers and he’d be the last person coaxing someone to the table.
Yeah, he’d considered backing off, letting her eat her crackers in peace. But he didn’t think Shea’s reluctance was due to shyness or anything other than genuinely not wanting to intrude. What a change from most of the guests who’d come to stay since Rachel started the dude ranch six months ago.
Some of those women had been something else. Even Trace, who was quite the Casanova, had started complaining about finding them under every rock. Not that it mattered to Jesse. He’d usher Shea downstairs and that would be it. If he had a rescue to deliver, maybe he’d see her at the shelter. And if not, that was fine, too.
3
WHEN SHEA SAW all the people sitting at the large dining-room table she wanted to turn around and run. Of course the whole family would be here. What was she thinking agreeing to have dinner with them? She’d let her empty tummy sway her.
“Here, Shea.” Rachel pulled out a chair. “Sit next to me. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
They were all looking at her with friendly expressions but that didn’t help. Her pulse had already started racing, her legs felt leaden and stiff and she was pretty much stuck because she doubted she could make it up the stairs.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt the pressure of a hand at the small of her back. She whipped her head around and met Jesse’s warm brown eyes.
“Go ahead,” he said, with an encouraging smile—he must have noticed how tense she was. That knowledge didn’t help one bit. “I’ll get you something to drink. Wine?”
She jerked her chin in some vague form of a nod and kept her focus on the empty chair until she was safely seated.
No one seemed to have observed her attack of nerves, no one except Jesse, of course. Rachel had already started passing a platter of bread and butter around the table.
“Listen up, everyone,” she said, pulling a large glass bowl of salad toward her. “This is Shea. I lied and told her how nice and perfectly civilized we all are, so try and fake it, okay?”
Laughter interspersed with indignation filled the room. The older woman Shea had seen earlier sat at the head of the table shushing them, then directed a smile at Shea. “I’m Barbara McAllister, the mother of this rowdy bunch. Except Jamie over there, who I’ve decided to claim, anyway.”
Grinning, the blonde lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers.
“That’s Cole cutting the lasagna,” Barbara continued.
“Glad you could join us, Shea,” he said, regarding her with the same dark eyes as Jesse. “Hand me your plate. I’ve got a nice big juicy piece for you.”
“Come on, you know I have a system.” Rachel stopped tossing the greens to glare at her brother. “Keep cutting. Let me get the salad passed around clockwise and then—”
“Oh, Christ, here we go—”
“Trace!” Barbara gave him a reproving look.
A giggle rose in Shea’s throat and she pressed her lips together trying to smother the sound.
Rachel clearly heard. “What?” she asked, her mouth slightly curved. “It’s okay. Everyone laughs at Trace.”
“No, your system. Passing clockwise,” Shea said, trying to compose herself. “I get that. I really do.”
“Thank you,” Rachel said with a smug lift of her chin aimed at Trace.
He made a crack that Shea didn’t hear because Jesse came up behind her, and suddenly all her senses were fixated on him.
“Would you like white or red?” he asked, bending close to her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin and sending an unexpected shiver down her spine.
She turned her head and saw that he was holding a bottle of wine in each hand. “Actually, I’m not much of a drinker. Maybe I should stick with water.”
“All right, but this chardonnay is pretty good stuff.” His voice was low and deep, and terribly unnerving because it seemed meant only for her.
Shea sighed. Probably a mistake given that she was already feeling rather warm, but she said, “Maybe a little.”
“Wine?” Trace snorted. “What’s the occasion?”
“Think, you heathen. We’re celebrating Jamie coming to be with us for the holidays.” Rachel sprinkled sunflower seeds on the salad, gave it a long approving look, then passed the bowl to her mother.
Jamie grinned. “We can always hook you up to a keg, Trace.”
“Hey, I’m down with that.” Trace smiled, his teeth strikingly white against his tan skin.
He was one of those real charmers, Shea thought, watching the way he casually combed his fingers through his thick dark hair. Probably had a string of girlfriends.
Shea forgot all about Trace as Jesse leaned in between her and Rachel to pour them each some wine. He brushed her shoulder as he maneuvered his upper body through the narrow space. Angled toward Shea, his flat belly only inches away, he ignited a tingling, nervous sensation that made her hold her breath and force her face straight.
One, two, three… four, five, six… seven, eight, nine…
His task accomplished, he retreated, and she stopped counting, unclenched her teeth and let out a slow breath that was still a bit shaky.
“Thank you,” she managed to say in a small voice.
“You’re welcome.” He’d already moved on to his mother, poured red for her and then continued on, filling everyone else’s glasses.
Okay, that was weird. Not her reaction—she always hated when anyone got too close—but the heat spreading through her limbs unsettled her some. Jeez, was she ever regretting the dinner invitation. This was torture and to top it off, her appetite was gone.
She hadn’t realized she was still tracking him until she heard her name and it was clear someone was trying to get her attention.
Blinking, she glanced around the table and saw Mrs. McAllister smiling at her.
“It’s so good of you to give up the holidays with your family to volunteer at Safe Haven,” she said. “The people there are wonderful and I’m sure they appreciate your sacrifice.”
“Oh, it’s no sacrifice.” Shea realized how that sounded, picked up her wineglass and took a sip. “I wanted to get away for the holidays.”
“I did, too.” Jamie accepted the bowl of salad from Trace and heaped some on her plate. “I don’t have any brothers and sisters, and my parents live in Zurich, so I’m glad the McAllisters took pity on me.”
“Excuse me.” Cole stopped serving lasagna to lift an eyebrow at her. “Is that your only reason for coming?”
Even as the corners of Jamie’s mouth quirked, her forehead creased in a confused frown. “I can’t think of anything else,” she said with an exaggerated innocence that even Shea could tell was a fake.
“Zap!” Trace barked out a laugh. “How’s your ego, bro?”
Jamie leaned over and kissed Cole half on the mouth and half on the cheek, her hand reaching under the table.
“I’d shut up until I got my lasagna if I were you,” Rachel told Trace.
“If you were me you’d be smarter and better-looking.”
“Oh, God.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Mom, are you sure you didn’t find him on the side of the road?”
“You’re all hopeless.” Barbara McAllister shook her head, but it was clear she didn’t mind her children horsing around.
Jesse smiled at the teasing as he took his seat but he seemed to be the most serious of the bunch. Shea thought back to when she first saw him, standing apart from the rest of the family. He hadn’t rushed to greet Jamie, though Shea had a feeling his reticence had nothing to do with the woman.
The salad finished making its round. Everyone but Shea had taken a slice of bread, which looked homemade. Plates were passed to receive the cheesy pasta, but not to Rachel’s satisfaction because she complained her system had been ruined.
Shea liked her. A lot. She liked Jamie, too, because Shea had the impression that Jamie had chimed in to bail her out.
It was odd for her to take a liking to anyone so quickly. Her gaze drifted to Jesse. She kind of liked him, too, but she hated that he was sitting directly across from her. It was difficult not to stare at him.
His hair was still a little damp on top, but the sides were so short they were already dry. The conservative cut made her think he’d be the clean-shaven type, but he’d left the stubble of beard that shadowed his jaw and chin. That and his tanned skin gave him a rugged look. She found the combination oddly appealing.
Rachel must have passed Shea’s plate to Cole without her seeing because it was now heaping with a portion she’d never be able to finish. It smelled divine, though, and with her renewed appetite she was willing to give it her best try.
For a few minutes it was quiet while everyone dug in to their meals. Ignoring the tempting aroma of the lasagna, she started with her salad because that’s what she always did. She’d finished chewing a cherry tomato when Rachel turned to her.
“So, Shea, do you ride?” she asked.
She dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “A little. I took refresher lessons last week, but I don’t think that’s a requirement of the shelter.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean to imply that. I thought you might enjoy a trail ride tomorrow. We have a couple of very gentle mares in our stables, and since it’s your only free day before you start at Safe Haven—”
“I don’t have a free day. I start tomorrow. But thank you for your offer.”