Home on the Ranch: The Montana Cowboy's Triplets Read online

  Stuck.

  She swiveled all around, looking for something to give her traction, then caught Hunter watching her, grinning.

  “Well, don’t just stand there laughing like a loon. Help me out,” she huffed.

  “It’d be my pleasure,” he said, and forged a path to her. He put his hands on her waist and as he lifted her, she reached up and put her arms around his neck. Free of the snow, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her away.

  Even as bundled up as they were, she felt a little wicked being held this way, and almost wished they were alone. And naked.

  “You keep moving on me like that, and I’ll have to lay facedown in the snow,” he whispered in her ear.

  She stopped moving, held herself rigid. “Maybe I can help with that.” She pulled his collar back, shoved the fistful of snow she’d grabbed down his back.

  “Hey!” he shouted.

  “You said you needed to cool off.” She smirked.

  He shifted, and suddenly she went sailing through the air, landing flat on her back in another snowdrift.

  She laughed up at the gray sky. Hunter’s face appeared above her.

  “Now who’s laughing like a loon. You all right, Mackenzie?” he asked.

  “Aye, dandy.”

  “You wanna get up outta the snow?”

  “Sure.”

  He extended a gloved hand and pulled her up.

  Little-boy giggles broke the silence, and she looked behind her. The Triples were pelting each other with snowballs.

  “Hey, boys. Saddle up. Work first, play later.”

  She mounted Rory again and settled into the easy rhythm of his gait. Hunter had told her earlier that morning that teaching the boys about the ranch would count toward school credit, even as young as they were. She wished her schooling had been like that, instead of stuck inside a classroom all day.

  Hunter pulled up again at a line of fence that had fallen down. They all dismounted, and she watched as he taught the boys what had to be done. It wasn’t so much wanting to know how to fix a fence in the middle of a ranch. It was more wanting to watch this man be so patient with his boys.

  He’d gently correct one if he did it wrong, and never lost his temper. He was also quick to praise their work. Sometimes she thought he was just a big kid himself, then he’d go and do something grown up, be responsible, be a good father.

  She turned away.

  “Hey, you okay?” he asked, coming into her watery line of sight.

  “Sure, just got something in my eye.” She pulled a glove off, then rubbed a hand over her eyes again.

  “Did something upset you? Your eyes are red.”

  Biting her lip to quell the sob didn’t help, and she flung herself into his arms. He caught her before they fell backward, and rubbed a hand up and down her back.

  “It’s okay. Whatever it is. I’ll fix it,” he murmured.

  “There’s nothing to fix.” She leaned back, looked him in the face. “You’re a great da. These boys are verra lucky to have you.” Pulling out of his embrace, she hurried to her horse and got on.

  Chancing a peek at him, she saw he still stood in the same spot, a dumbfounded look on his face.

  “Come on then, boyo. There are fences to be mended,” she called.

  He mounted Becket, and they set off.

  The morning wore on, and they’d stopped at least fifteen times to mend fences before Hunter called for a break.

  She slid off her horse and stomped her feet, rubbed her hands together.

  Hunter pulled two thermoses out of his saddlebag. He poured out of one and handed it to her, and the rich fragrant scent of the coffee he liked drifted to her nose.

  And isn’t it scary that I know what type of coffee he favors? She sipped and blinked at how strong it was, and shuddered as it went down. She usually preferred tea. “That’ll put hair on your chest,” she muttered.

  “If it does, you can borrow my razor,” Hunter said behind her.

  She jumped, and coffee sloshed over onto her glove.

  He snickered. “Coffee too strong?”

  “How can you drink this and not go through the roof?”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t be a wimp.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Who’re you calling a wimp, boyo?”

  He opened his mouth, but the tiniest mewling sound came from behind her. She held her hand up to silence him. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  She strained her ears trying to hear it again. Then it sounded again, only it came from above her. She looked up into towering trees. Finally, she spotted movement in one tree.

  She pointed up. “There’s a cat way up there. How the bloody heck did it manage to get all the way up there?”

  “It’s a cat. They climb.”

  She flicked him a disgusted look. “I know that, bampot. But there aren’t any low-hanging branches.” She moved toward the tree. “Come here, kitty,” she called to it.

  The cat just stared down at her, shivering.

  “We need to get her down. She’s freezing.”

  Hunter looked from her to the tree, and back to her. “How do you propose I do that?”

  She grabbed the rope from Hunter’s saddle and slung it over her shoulder, then whistled for Rory. He trotted to her side, and she positioned him at the tree. She tucked her parka into her jeans as best she could, then swung up into the saddle. Pulling her legs in, she stood up on Rory’s back.

  “What are you doing?” Hunter hissed at her. “Get down from there.”

  “Just hold him steady.” She balanced, looking up to the lowest branch. Sliding the rope off her shoulder, she let out several lengths, then tossed it up, praying it would go right the first time.

  The rope sailed upward, then went over the branch, sending a shower of snow onto her face. She brushed it off, then reached for the other side of the rope.

  She looked down at Hunter. “Here I go.”

  “Be careful.”

  She winked at him. Grateful she had on her thick gloves, she started walking up the tree trunk, pulling herself up with the rope. When she reached the first set of branches, she stepped off onto one, and pulled herself up into the next section.

  Leaning forward, she tested another branch. It snapped off in her hand, and she almost slipped. She grabbed another handhold and steadied herself.

  Almost there. Keep going. Don’t look down. She looked down. Hunter and the Triples stared up at her. From very far away.

  She shut her eyes, blew out a breath and centered herself.

  A plaintive meow sounded closer now, and she opened her eyes to see the tabby cat eyeing her. “Come on, sweetie. I’m here to take you home, okay?” She made kissy-kissy noises and wiggled her fingers. The cat crept forward and sniffed the tips of her gloved fingers, then backed away.

  “Now don’t be stubborn, baby. Come to me.” She wiggled her fingers again, and the cat stretched its head out to sniff again. It crept forward a little more, enough so she could grab it by the scruff, which elicited a very undignified hiss.

  “Oh, shut up. You must be a boy kitty. Can’t ever be rescued by a woman, huh?” She pulled it into a hug, holding it till it stopped hissing and snuggled into her warmth.

  “There we go. That’s no’ so bad now, eh?” She unzipped her parka enough to guide the cat inside, then zipped it back up. The cat shifted, then snuggled right in.

  Retracing her movements down the branches, section by section, she finally reached her rope. She gripped it and began a slow rappel back down, making sure she didn’t startle the cat.

  At one point the cat shifted around, then poked its head out by her neck, sniffed and stuck it back inside.

  She gauged how much farther she had to go, then was finally close enough to step on Rory’s
back. She let go of the rope and sat down, then dismounted.

  The boys jumped up and down, cheering.

  “Can we see it?” Eli asked.

  She unzipped her parka enough for the boys to see the cat, who shrank back against her. “You know what? This poor kitty is probably hungry and thirsty. How about we go home and get it settled? Then I’ll bet it will let you pet it.”

  She looked up at Hunter, who was coiling the rope, his back to her.

  The boys ran to their horses and mounted up.

  “Thanks for your help,” she said to Hunter.

  He briefly glanced at her. “You could have been killed.”

  She stepped back, her heart pounding so hard she thought it would burst. “I knew what I was doing—”

  “This is real life. Not a movie set where you have safety precautions in place. There was nothing I could have done if you’d fallen except try to catch you.”

  She backed up another step, angry that he hadn’t trusted her.

  “Did you even stop to think how that would have affected my children if you’d fallen and died in front of them?”

  Chapter 15

  She whipped her head sideways to look at the kids. They were on their horses, leaning toward each other, whispering.

  “Nothing happened.”

  “You’re right. This time. You can’t keep risking your life like this.”

  “Who are you to bloody tell me what I can and can’t do?” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat, swallowed a sob. “This is my job. It’s not your place to boss me around, to say I can’t do it.”

  “Look, I’m sorry. I was worried, okay?”

  She stomped around him and swung up into Rory’s saddle. The cat squirmed against her, and she rested a hand on it, patting it till it settled down again. Nudging Rory, she guided him around to what she hoped was the way back to the ranch. The fence had been on her left the whole way, so she kept it on her right.

  Before long she heard the crunch of the other horses behind her, and Hunter trotted in front to lead the way. The boys were actually subdued. They could probably tell their dad was upset.

  The long ride back to the ranch didn’t do much to calm her down. She wondered what was going through Hunter’s head.

  The cat hadn’t moved much, content with her body heat. By the time they reached the ranch, she was cold and hungry, and more than ready to be off a horse. But instead of turning the way she’d expected, Hunter led them to a big cabin and barn she hadn’t seen before.

  The front door opened, and Luke walked out. “Hey, what’s going on?”

  Hunter came up to her and held his hand out. “I figured we ought to bring the cat straight to Luke. Make sure it’s okay.”

  She unzipped her coat enough to pull the cat out and handed it to Hunter.

  It hissed at him, even as he crooned to it. Then he handed the cat to Luke. “Found this cat out while we were riding the fence.”

  Luke scratched the cat’s chin, and it settled right against him. “Where was it?”

  The boys all piped up, talking over each other to tell the story. Luke finally looked up with a what the hell expression on his face.

  Hunter said something to Luke, who nodded. “Guys, you want to stay with me, help me check the cat out? We’ll need to clean it up, take some pictures to send out, see if it belongs around here.” Luke and the boys disappeared inside while Hunter led their horses inside the barn.

  This was her chance to get some much-needed space. She wheeled Rory around and galloped back to the barn where his stall was. She sped through the routine of taking care of him, making sure he was okay but desperate not to see Hunter.

  She caught a ride with one of the ranch hands, who dropped her at Hunter’s cabin. Relieved to see he wasn’t there yet, she hurried to her room and shut the door. Tired, dirty, cold and, she realized, scratched, all she wanted was a hot bath.

  Shedding her outerwear, she sat and pulled her boots off. She stripped down to her panties and tank top, and went into the en suite bathroom. Turning on the tub faucet, she stuck her hand under the water, hoping it would heat quickly.

  A door slammed in the cabin, and seconds later, someone pounded on her bedroom door.

  It could only be Hunter.

  She ignored the knock.

  He banged on the door again.

  She ignored it again.

  This time he hammered on the door and wouldn’t let up.

  Bloody cowboy.

  She shut the water faucets off and stomped out of the bathroom and to the bedroom door. “What do you want?” she hollered, flinging the door open.

  “Don’t ignore me,” Hunter said. His eyes flashed anger and hurt, and it shocked her.

  “Then don’t patronize me. You’re not my father or my boss. Ye canna tell me wha’ to do.”

  “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. Don’t you get it?” he shouted. He flung his hat down.

  “Get what?” she asked, backing up.

  He strode toward her and stopped in front of her so close she fought to breathe. “I don’t want you to die!” He cupped her cheeks. “I care about you.”

  “No,” she said, and tried to move back.

  But he wouldn’t let her go.

  “Yes, dammit. I didn’t want to. But I do.” He kissed her, hard, and she tasted his anger on his lips.

  She fought back, kissing him with her own Scottish anger.

  He let go of her cheeks to pull her body flush to his. He was hot, hard, and she wanted to curl up and stay there forever.

  But she couldn’t. She was finally free of responsibilities. Her brothers were grown, or almost, and she could do what she wanted with her life. She liked working on movies, liked the change of pace, the action, the process of working out stunts.

  His lips slid over hers, his tongue chased hers, and it drove her crazy. She suddenly wasn’t cold any longer. Heat bloomed inside her and turned liquid, languid. She wanted to see him naked, feel that magnificent body skin to skin, muscle to muscle—man to woman.

  He cupped her arse, lifting her against him. She shifted her hips, cradling his hardness with her body, and he groaned.

  He walked her backward until the backs of her knees hit the bed. “God, I want you,” he whispered, all traces of anger in his words gone.

  His words sent a flood of emotions rioting through her head. Her body. Her heart.

  Desire, yes.

  Want, yes.

  Need, saints be praised, yes.

  And fear.

  She wasn’t afraid of him.

  She was afraid of herself.

  She’d kept her emotions tight to her chest all these years, afraid to trust anyone but her closest kin. Her mother’s words about not trusting men, and her own experience with that actor, had made her skittish.

  But with Hunter, she knew instinctively she could trust him. And the knowledge cooled her ire even as her desire flamed to life.

  “I want you, too,” she whispered.

  He pulled back just enough to look at her, almost surprised, and she wondered why.

  “Then that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” He lifted her up and tossed her onto the bed, then followed, covering her body with his.

  His weight was welcome, warming her from the inside out. She felt wanton, wicked.

  He lifted his head, looked down at her. “You’re not wearing many clothes.”

  “And you’re wearing too many.”

  “I can fix that,” he said, and stood up.

  “By all means, do.” She propped her hands under her head and gazed at him.

  He started unbuttoning his blue flannel shirt, then looked up at her. “What’re you doing?”

  “Watching the show.”

  His eyebrows popped up, then he grinned, looking deci
dedly naughty.

  Oh, goody! Her girlie parts took notice as he started stripping his clothes off, putting on a show.

  The long-sleeved shirt came off. Then he started sliding the black thermal shirt up his stomach, revealing those hard abs she’d only felt before. His chest muscles made her want to sing, but she restrained herself and licked her lips.

  He yanked the shirt off, then whirled it around his head and let it fly to the other side of the bed.

  “Wow,” she murmured, eyeing his chest and abs.

  “You like?” he asked, and struck a muscle pose.

  She laughed. “Oh, go on wi’ ye.”

  Hard work over the years had honed his body into a Greek-god-worthy physique. She rolled her eyes at herself for going all poetic. If he knew what she was thinking, his already inflated ego would burst.

  He put his hands on his belt buckle and looked at her.

  She lifted her hand and waved her fingers. “Proceed.”

  He grinned, slid the strap out of the loop, then flipped the strap back with flair to pull it from the prong. Sliding the rest of the strap from the buckle, he whipped it out of all the belt loops, threw it over his shoulder.

  Twisting first one way, then the other, he struck a couple of bodybuilder poses.

  She scrambled up from her reclining position to lie on her stomach, facing him. She propped her chin in her hands, and batted her eyelashes at him.

  He slid his hands down his stomach to the button on his jeans, and she went still. Then he shook a finger at her and turned around to face the other way.

  “Hey,” she protested. “Wha’ are ye doin’?”

  He moved his bottom back and forth, and peered over his shoulder at her.

  She’d never imagined foreplay could be this much fun, and they’d hardly touched each other. Excitement built, and she couldn’t wait to see what he did next.

  A zipper sound rasped in the air, and he shimmied his backside some more. He slowly slid his jeans down over his hips, then paused.