The Texas Rancher's Family

“How long have you been doing this?” Mac asked.

Glad to have something else to concentrate on other than him, she picked up a pencil and traced the outline of his foot on the paper. “I started learning the art of boot making when I was twelve. I was eighteen when I made my first pair, all on my own.”

Erin slid another piece of paper onto the clipboard, marked it for the left foot and, holding that foot firmly in place, traced around it, too.

“And now your little brother is learning the art?”

Erin gestured for Mac to sit back down. She picked up his right foot and wrapped the measuring tape around the metatarsal bone just beneath his toes. “Nicholas can measure for the last—the replicated form of your foot that the boot is made to fit. And take orders, if the customer knows exactly what he or she wants, as most cowboys who come in here do.” Erin paused to write down the numbers on the sheet of paper with the outline of Mac’s right foot. “He’s not interested in helping formulate a design or the actual crafting of the boot.”

Mac watched as she measured the middle of his arch. “So it’s just the two of you?”

Erin nodded. She grasped his foot and stretched it out, so his toes were pointed downward, then measured just above the center of his heel and around the ankle bone. “And the help we employ, like Darcy, who works here part-time. She says it’s to support her custom-boot habit.” Which, Erin knew, was pretty much true. Darcy had almost as many pairs of boots as Erin did.

Mac smiled, nodding at her to continue.

“Although my siblings and I all grew up helping out in the store.”

Erin had him stand again. All business now, she asked, “Are you going to wear your pants inside your boots or over?” Because that would make a difference.

When he said, “Over,” she guided his weight squarely over his foot, then measured around his calf. Finished, she recorded that figure, then guided him to sit down again so she could take the measurements of his left foot.

While she worked, Mac relaxed his foot in her grip, and asked casually, “Your family owns a ranch, too, don’t they?”

Still aware of him in a way she definitely shouldn’t be, Erin nodded, telling herself there would never be anything between her and this out-of-towner, no matter how many sparks his nearness generated. “The Triple Canyon Ranch,” she answered.

Mac waited for her to finish writing down some stats before saying, “It’s my understanding the property hasn’t been used for agricultural purposes in years.”

Erin gestured for him to stand again. When he did, she knelt in front of him and wrapped the measuring tape around his left calf. “Not since my parents died, when I was twenty-three.”

“I’d heard as much,” he murmured.

Erin made a final notation and straightened, studying the expression on his face. Romantic fantasies faded as reality took over. She let her gaze slide over him and guessed wryly, “And you’re thinking our ten thousand acres would be perfect for a wind farm.”

Mac slid his feet into his shoes. “The topography is wide open, and rough enough to generate a lot of wind. It’s tucked into a remote corner of Laramie County, yet within easy reach of the county power plant.”

A trickle of unease went through her. “You’ve seen our property?” she asked in shock.

Guileless blue eyes held hers. “Via helicopter, yes.”

“And that’s why you wanted boots,” she accused. “So you could talk me into selling the property to North Wind Energy?”

His gaze held hers without apology. “Or leasing, long-term, if your family would prefer.”

Furious at having been played, Erin stood. “First of all, I don’t own the property myself,” she told him icily, carrying the clipboard over to the counter, wondering if she should shred all her notes right now. “I share the rights with my siblings.”

Mac didn’t seem the least bit put off. “I understand there are five of you.”

He certainly had done his homework.

Erin lounged against the counter, her arms folded in front of her. “That’s right. Sixteen-year-old Nicholas, whom you met the other day. Bridget and Bess, my twenty-two-year-old twin sisters, who are both finishing up nursing school at San Angelo State University. And my brother Gavin. He’s thirty-three, a year younger than me, and is currently completing his residency in cardio-thoracic medicine.” None of them were interested in agriculture, or the store. Nicholas just worked there part-time to earn spending money. But all of them shared an emotional attachment to the ranch house and the land four generations of Monroes had grown up on.

Mac continued, “I’d like to talk to all of you.”

Erin just bet he would.

But before she could formulate a reply, the bell jingled on the first floor and then the front door slammed. “Mom!” Sammy and Stevie yelled in unison.

Saved by her sons. Relieved, Erin flashed a pointed smile at Mac. “I’ve got to go.” She brushed past him and headed for the stairs.

He was right behind her. “We haven’t finished.”

“Oh, I think we have,” she said over her shoulder, as cheerfully determined as he was.

The bell jangled again.

The door opened just as Erin reached the main floor. A young girl with messy blond curls—and an ice-cream cone in her hand—charged in, sobbing, “Daddy!” A uniformed chauffeur trailed behind her.

At the sight of the hopelessly distraught child wailing for her father, Erin’s heart clenched in a way it hadn’t in a good long while. Suddenly, it was all she could do not to burst into tears herself.

“Daddy!” the little girl yelled again, tears of indignation streaming down her face as the cone she was holding lost its top, and strawberry ice cream landed on the floor with a splat. “I’m tired of Texas!” The girl tossed the cone aside and stomped her foot. “I want to go home! Right now!”

* * *

TALK ABOUT BAD TIMING, Mac thought, while striding to the rescue.

“As you can see, despite your reassurances, this is not working,” the uniformed young woman told him with an indignant sniff. “I am a chauffeur, not a babysitter.”

No kidding. He should have followed his instincts and brought Heather into the store with him, despite the driver’s assurances it would be okay. He’d figured the appointment would take just twenty or thirty minutes, long enough for him to set up a meeting with the whole Monroe clan.

But that hadn’t happened, and now his little girl was in meltdown mode. Mac knelt and gathered his sobbing daughter into his arms. “Heather, honey, it’s all right....” he soothed, holding her close.

“Daddy, you said this would be fun!” she cried.

Aware they had the attention of everyone in the store, he patted her back. “I thought watching a movie and eating ice cream in the limo would be fun for you,” he said lamely.

Out of the corner of his eye, he couldn’t help but notice Erin observing from the sidelines with a strangely paralyzed look on her face.

“But I want you to stay with me!” Heather clung to him all the tighter, shifting his focus back to his weeping daughter.

He could hardly blame her for being upset. She’d had way too much change in her life in the past few days. What she needed was normalcy, stability. Not that he seemed able to give her that at the moment.

The two boys who’d entered the store edged closer to Erin, their eyes fixed on Heather. The younger one elbowed his mom. “What’s her problem?”

Heather turned to look at him. Her tears momentarily forgotten, she pushed away from Mac and demanded with equal curiosity, “Who’s he?”

From the sidelines, a group of cowboys looking over a display of Wranglers shifted uncomfortably.

Cringing, Mac couldn’t blame them. He hated emotional scenes, too.

Erin motioned for the salesclerk behind the counter to help the men. Her eyes glistening brightly, she stepped toward Mac and his little girl. “Hello, Heather,” she said with a smile. “My name is Erin and this is my son Sammy. He’s eight. This is my other son, Stevie. He’s ten. How old are you?”

Heather sniffed, her misery fading fast. “I’m six.”

“We have a toy corner in the back of the store. Would you like to see it?”

Heather looked at Mac. “Can I, Daddy?”

He released her. “Sure.”

“Come on. We’ll show you,” Sammy said, reaching out and taking her hand.

Stevie fell into step beside them. “Mom, is it okay if we get our after-school snack?”

Erin blinked. For a moment there she’d been a million miles away, lost in her own thoughts as her sons quickly bonded with the little girl.

“Sure,” Mac said again, when she looked at him for permission.

“You can have a snack,” Erin told her boys, “but share whatever you get with Heather, too.”

“Okay, Mom.”

The children strode off, still hand in hand.

Although Mac couldn’t help but wonder about the emotional expression that had flitted over Erin’s face, he turned his attention to the mess his daughter had made. “Do you have anything I can clean this up with?” he asked.

Erin glanced at the strawberry ice cream puddled on the floor. “Don’t worry about it.” She pivoted and went to the counter, returning with a roll of paper towels and a bottle of cleaner. Mac couldn’t help noticing how her hips swayed beneath her nicely fitted jeans, or the way her calico print shirt clung to her breasts as she knelt down.

Desire sifted through him, so fierce and unexpected it took him a minute to access some working brain cells. His body tightening with a demand that hadn’t been met in way too long, he hunkered down beside her and caught her hand. “Let me do that.”

Silky skin heated beneath his fingertips as she sucked in a startled breath. Their glances met as she studied him with big green eyes.

Damn, but she was pretty, Mac noted, despite his attempt to keep his interactions with her businesslike. She was feminine everywhere she should be. Delicate features, a heart-shaped face and upswept honey-blond curls only added to her womanly allure.

She was obviously successful—which he liked. Stubborn—which was probably going to make her harder to persuade. But persuade he would, Mac vowed. “I’ll clean this up.”

Her teeth raked across her soft, plump lower lip. “You really don’t have to do that.”

He gave her his most persuasive smile. “I insist.”

The truth was, he wanted to do something else entirely with her.

But that wouldn’t help him fulfill his agenda. And he’d do well to remember the real reason he was here....

Flustered, Erin handed him the necessary supplies and gave him room to work.

Not long after he had finished, the door jangled again. A group of ladies strolled in, followed by Erin’s brother.

“Sorry I’m late, sis. I—” Nicholas stopped dead at the sight of Mac. “I thought you weren’t coming till later.”

Erin filled him in, “He switched appointments with Darcy, so I took his measurements for the last.”

“What about the rest of the ordering process?” the teen asked.

“I’m going to do that later,” Mac promised.

Nicholas’s face fell in disappointment. “Then you won’t be staying?”

Mac looked at his chauffeur, who was standing near the door, then back at Heather. Although his daughter was happily playing with Sammy and Stevie in the corner of the room, she could easily have another meltdown soon. “I have my daughter with me.”

“I don’t suppose you have dinner plans tonight?” Nicholas asked eagerly, before Erin could intervene. “Because if you don’t, I sure would appreciate it if you and your daughter could come out to our ranch and eat with all of us.”

Mac looked at Erin. Her cheeks were flushed and she didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I wouldn’t want to impose...” he said.

Oblivious to his sister’s discomfort, Nicholas rushed on with teenage impetuousness. “It wouldn’t be an imposition! We’re always inviting people new to the community over for dinner. As Erin says, when you’re already feeding seven or eight, what’s one or two more?”

But this was different, Mac knew. She wouldn’t want him there with her entire family. On the other hand, it would be a perfect opportunity for him to speak with everyone at once. Find out how much work it would take to convince them his proposal was a good one.

The hint of discord in her eyes indicated she was realizing the exact same thing. “Nicholas!” Erin interjected quickly, “Let’s not put Mr. Wheeler on the spot.”

Or your sister, Mac thought. Although it was too late for that. He looked at his daughter, aware it was the first time he’d seen her smile in two days, and announced, “Actually, we’d love to come.”

It would give him a chance to show Erin he wasn’t a bad guy.

Nicholas grinned. “Is it okay if I invite a couple of my buddies from the environmental club, too?”

Mac looked back at his would-be hostess.

Seemingly as aware as he that everyone in the store had stopped to hear her answer, Erin flashed a smile, radiating a Texas-style hospitality that belied the cautiousness he could see in her gaze. “The more the merrier.”

Or was it safety in numbers? Mac thought, wondering what would happen if the two of them were ever alone. Would the sparks continue to fly? Or would she ward him off with every ounce of grit she possessed?

“What time would you like us to be there?” he asked casually, and was rewarded with a faint blush of pink in her cheeks.

“Any time after seven would be good,” she allowed.

“Great...see you then.”

Heather didn’t want to leave the store, but finally assented when she realized she would be seeing Stevie and Sammy again in a few hours, this time at their ranch.

“Daddy, will the ranch have animals?” she asked, after he’d settled the bill with the limo driver and rented an SUV to get around instead.

Mac carried their suitcases into their room at the Laramie Inn. “I’m not sure.”

“Can I have a dog?”

“Honey, we talked about this. As long as I’m traveling so much...”

Heather sighed, repeating his oft-said phrase, “It’s just not practical.”

“But when things settle down at work, and I’m not required to be on the road nearly as much, then I promise I will get you a puppy. Okay?”

Her expression turned glum.

Mac could tell she really didn’t believe anything would ever change. She was still moody and quiet when they arrived at the Triple Canyon Ranch and drove through the black, wrought-iron gate.

In the distance, Mac could see the rocky ridges and deep canyons the property had been named after. Near the highway, the topography was flatter. Live oak trees lined either side of the paved lane that led to the big, sprawling ranch house. A pitched brown roof draped majestically over the eaves. The second story was covered with dark brown cedar shakes, while the lower level was painted a light cocoa color. Bright white trim set off the windows and the dark brown front door. A covered porch spanned the width of the house, with a bench swing and matching chairs providing a comfortable seating area.

It was a house built for multiple generations, with a pasture full of horses, a barn and stable nearby.

Sammy and Stevie were shooting basketballs through a hoop next to the driveway. They waited until Mac parked the SUV, then dashed toward them. “Do you know how to play basketball?” they asked Heather.

She shook her head.

“Want to learn?”

She shrugged shyly. “Maybe.”

Erin walked out onto the porch.

Mac was surprised to see she’d let her hair down. It glowed like rich honey in the early evening light, and flowed over her shoulders in thick, gorgeous curls. She was still in jeans, but had taken off the calico shirt and put on a short-sleeved, scoop-necked T-shirt that matched the peachy hue of her cheeks. Somehow, she seemed less businesswoman, more easygoing Mom. But every bit as sexy as before.

“Guys, go easy on her, okay? You’ve got twenty minutes until you have to wash up.”

“Okay, Mom!” Stevie answered.

Her smile cordial, Erin ushered Mac inside. The interior was both rustic and homey, with wide-plank wood floors, colorful Southwestern rugs and sun-washed yellow walls. Big, comfortable-looking furniture was accented with lots of Texana memorabilia and family photos.

She came closer in a drift of lilac perfume. “What can I get you to drink?” she asked almost too pleasantly.

Mac reminded himself he wasn’t here to challenge her hospitality or to put the moves on her. He leaned against the white limestone fireplace that went all the way up to the cathedral ceiling of the main living area. “Iced tea, if you have it.”

She pivoted and headed to the kitchen. “Coming right up.”

Mac followed, his eyes on her hips.

Erin paused to check on a casserole baking in the oven. “Nicholas went to pick up a couple of his friends. They’ll be back shortly, so prepare yourself for the nonstop questions about your line of work.”

Mac had figured as much. He watched her plunk ice into a glass, noticing the lack of wedding ring on her hand. “What about the rest of your siblings?” And her husband? Where was he? Was she divorced? Widowed? Belatedly, he realized he should have done better research on the alluring woman in front of him.

“Bridget and Bess won’t be here. They’re staying on campus in San Angelo, studying for an exam. Gavin should be home from the hospital soon, though.” Erin met Mac’s gaze for a long, highly charged moment.

“I look forward to meeting him.”

She nodded and handed him his iced tea, careful not to let their fingers touch, then turned away. “I’m going to check on the kids.”

Mac trailed her back to the front of the house, where she glanced out a window. And promptly turned as pale as a ghost.

Chapter Three

For a moment, it was as if Erin had hurtled back through time, to what might have been. Heart constricting, she forced her eyes away from the sight of Heather riding bikes with the boys.

She had to stop doing this, she told herself sternly. Stop thinking, remembering, wishing things had been different....

Because they weren’t different—and never would be, no matter how she yearned to go back, find a different outcome.

Her throat aching with the effort it took to hold back a sob, she swung away from the window.

Mac was staring at her, his handsome face creased with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Wishing he could pull her into his arms and comfort her—the way he’d comforted his daughter when she’d been upset—Erin rushed back through the house. Mac was right behind her.

The logical side of her knew he deserved an explanation. This was the second time she’d reacted emotionally, in just a few hours. Because she couldn’t let go of the past.

She lifted a palm. “It’s nothing.”

“The hell it is,” he countered gruffly, refusing to let her cut and run.

Feeling her body heat under his probing gaze, she tried again. “I just...I didn’t expect—” Her voice broke, and she swallowed. He wasn’t going to give up until he knew, so she shook her head, forced herself to go on. “Angelica...”

“Who’s Angelica?” he asked gently.

Hot, bitter tears pushed at the back of her eyes. Her throat ached so badly she could barely speak. “My daughter. She died two years ago, when she was six.” Erin grabbed hold of the kitchen counter and shut her eyes. She could feel Mac next to her, hovering, patiently waiting for her to confide in him.

He moved closer, and Erin felt a wave of comforting strength emanating from him. Eventually she choked out, “That was Angelica’s bike that Heather is riding.”

“Would you like me to ask her to stop?” Mac’s voice sounded a little raspy, too.

Swallowing hard, Erin opened her eyes and turned toward him. “No, of course not. Not when they’re all having such a good time. In fact, I haven’t seen my boys look so happy in a long time. Not since they had a little sister to play with.”

Mac took a look at the photos strewn across the top of the kitchen hutch. One of a much younger Erin, and her brothers and sisters, standing with their parents. Another of Erin and her husband, surrounded by their three kids. The photos of Erin’s daughter caught his attention, too. Mac paused in shock. “Our daughters look so much alike,” he murmured.

Erin nodded, her heart constricting again. Heather and Angelica might have been sisters. The two little girls had the same thick, curly blond hair and piquant faces, the same exuberance and zest for life. The only difference being that Erin’s child was dead now, while Mac’s was still very much alive.

Erin couldn’t help but envy him that.

He took her hand and led her into the family room. Too overwrought to protest, she followed numbly. “What happened?” He guided her to the sofa and sank down beside her.

Erin made no protest when he slung a comforting arm around her shoulders. She didn’t often talk about this, but knew she needed to tonight. With him. She turned and looked into Mac’s eyes, still stunned about the unexpectedness of it all. “She had cancer.”

He tightened his grip on her. His eyes were steady. Calm. And so filled with tenderness and compassion, she wanted to weep. “How long was she sick?” he asked quietly.

Erin swallowed again. “Ten months.” Ten hellishly long, yet way-too-short months.

“How did you find out?”

Determined not to lose it again, she slid a shaking hand over her thigh. “The bike Heather’s riding...” Mac’s brow furrowed and Erin forced herself to continue, “Angelica learned to ride when she was four. It only took her a couple of weeks to master it without the training wheels, and she was so proud of herself. So happy to be out riding around the driveway with her big brothers. Then one day, when she was five and a half—” Erin’s voice broke at the memory of that last “completely normal” day “—she fell off for no reason anyone could see, and scraped up her hands and knees.”

Mac grimaced in sympathy as the memories engulfed Erin.

“That night she started complaining about her head hurting. Even though she’d been wearing a helmet, I was scared. I thought she might have hurt something in the fall, so I took her to the E.R. and had her checked out just to be sure.”

The sorrow Erin felt, then and now, was mirrored in Mac’s eyes. “And that’s when they found the tumor that was affecting the ‘balance’ area of her brain,” she concluded brokenly.

Mac drew her closer, until she was pressed against his side. His irises darkened. “You must have been terrified.”

Erin had been. Knowing she needed to continue unburdening herself, as much as he needed to listen, she leaned into his comforting warmth. “My husband and I took Angelica to MD Anderson in Houston. They did surgery and chemotherapy and radiation. She lost all her beautiful hair.” And had cried and cried and cried, until she decided she liked being bald, anyway. “For a while, we thought she was going to be okay.” Erin released a shuddering sigh, beginning to feel her heart go numb again at the memory. “But then the tumor came back...and Angelica died about three months after that.”

“I’m so sorry.” Mac embraced her. For a moment, Erin let herself be held against the solid warmth of his chest.

Aware she could get a little too used to that, she drew away. Exhaled again.

Mac let her go. He looked at her left hand, taking in the absence of a ring. “What happened to your husband?”

Needing some space, after confiding so much, Erin stood and began to roam the room. In a choked voice, she admitted, “The same thing that happens to a lot of parents who have terminally-ill kids.” She pushed away the hurt and disappointment that lingered. “G.W. discovered he couldn’t handle the loss. And he left.”

Mac had the same incredulous, disapproving reaction as most of their family and friends. “You’re divorced.”

It was more a statement than a question.

She nodded. “For over a year.”

He looked as if he wanted to punch something. “Where is he now?”