has waiting on the stove. You don’t really know what you’ll be missing,” she added. “I’ve done my job. The party planner’s jeep leaves in five seconds.”
“Sloan, Tighe, Dante, Falcon, Galen, Jace and Ashlyn,” Sloan said. “Since we need cover of darkness, we’d better get a move on.”
He had a nice voice. A little rough and gravelly, maybe, but she thought he’d be appealing if he relaxed.
He didn’t look as if he relaxed much. “Can’t they speak for themselves?” Kendall demanded.
“Kendall,” Xav said, laughing, still astride his horse, “cut them a break. They’re not aware of the game rules.”
“Yes, we are,” Ashlyn said to Xav. “We make the rules.”
“Great,” Kendall said. “Nothing but fun times ahead, I can tell.”
Sloan looked at her. “We appreciate you coming out here. We just weren’t expecting company.”
She nodded, backing off just a bit. “Let’s get you that coffee.”
He smiled, and the effect was devastatingly, hauntingly beautiful. As if he didn’t smile often, so when he did, the smile came from deep in his soul. Kendall caught her breath—and then remembered that when he’d held her ankle in his strong hand, capturing her, she was pretty certain his fingers had stroked her skin as he’d finally released her.
It had felt nice.
“Sorry about your skirt,” he told her. “I’d brush it off, but I think the dirt—”
“Don’t you dare,” Kendall said. The thought of him brushing her fanny with his big, rough hand alarmed her. It didn’t ring a long-forgotten bell of sexual desire at all. “I mean, thank you, it will be fine. Nothing the dry cleaners can’t handle.”
His dark eyes squinted at the corners, as if he might be trying to smile again but the action was just too rusty for the muscles to obey. He ran a hand through his messy dark hair, waiting for her to lead the way.
Kendall marched the procession to the jeep and the coffee, more than ready to hand the big man and his rowdy band off to Jonas.
Party planner, my foot. Barbie?
What an arrogant devil. Cute, though, I suppose.
If one likes their men rough and tough—and I don’t.
* * *
THEY FILED SILENTLY into their cousin’s house, somewhat awed by their surroundings. Their grandfather had said Rancho Diablo was five thousand acres, but it felt bigger. A couple of small oil derricks worked in the distance. The house was Tudor, almost British in style, supposedly Jeremiah Callahan’s dream house. Sloan couldn’t think of his family as having anything in common with these Callahans. He was pretty certain none of his family had ever been in anything like this joint. There were seven chimneys, for Pete’s sake. It was like a ghostly castle rising up off the New Mexico landscape, banked by dark spools of canyons.
A small, gray-haired woman stood at the door to greet them. She wore green rubber boots appropriate for walking in mud or to the barns and a pink apron with red hearts fashioned into the fabric. The apron looked as if it might have been made by small hands in a school project. Sloan thought it had probably been made by one of the many children he’d been warned were here, a veritable army all their own.
But on this cold early morning the ranch was silent except for workers he could see in the distance.
“Come in,” the woman said. “I’m your aunt Fiona. Welcome to Rancho Diablo.”
Sloan and his siblings went into a grand foyer in which a massive iron chandelier hung overhead. He glanced at the others, who shrugged at him.
“It’s not home,” Ashlyn said, “but it’s not bad, either.”
“Follow me,” Fiona said cheerfully. “I’m sure you’re cold and hungry. The chief says I can only keep you here an hour before you must depart.” They trailed after her into a large kitchen where the fragrance of eggs and coffee and toast permeated the room. Sloan’s stomach rumbled to get at the food.
He glanced at Kendall. Now that they were in a well-lit room, he realized the dirt mark on her skirt was huge. That spot was never coming out without professional assistance. Of course, the spot only made him realize what a really nice fanny she was packing.
“I have to admit that the chief pulled a shocker on me. Still, we’re always delighted to have family about. Rancho Diablo is a family place.” Fiona looked around the room with a smile. “In the future, Kendall will be your liaison. Anything you need, you let her know. Grab a plate and tell me your name as you fill up,” the older woman said. “This is dine and dash, I’m afraid. We’re just lucky it’s the darkest part of the year. It gives you a little more time.”
Sloan’s gaze went to Kendall’s. She raised a shoulder as if to say, “You blew your shot with me, dude. Don’t look my way.”
His brothers and sister wasted no time taking their plates and introducing themselves to Fiona and her husband, Burke, as they went by in the line. Sloan went over to talk to Kendall, hoping to make amends.
“Let me pay for cleaning the skirt.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Stubborn.”
“You should talk.” She gestured toward the food. “One thing you’ll learn about being around this branch of the Callahan family tree—if you’re hungry, you’d best get to the front of the line. The men in this group eat. Last one in line gets a short stack.”
He grinned. “I’m not used to eating a lot.”
Her gaze floated down his body. “You’re thin,” she agreed. “All the same, this is the only food you’ll get for a while.”
“It’s fine. There’s always something to eat.”
“Not unless you like snake.” She grabbed a plate, handing it to him. “I don’t eat snake, so I’m going to eat your share if you don’t get a move on.”
He didn’t have to be told twice. He let Fiona fill his plate, murmured his thanks and seated himself at the long table with everyone else.
“This is very nice of you,” Ashlyn said. “Thank you, Fiona.”
“I don’t understand,” she replied, “why you can’t just stay on this ranch.” She studied the group. “Jonas! Why can’t they stay here? Why is the chief complicating things? If we need protection, shouldn’t they be here? We certainly have the room,” Fiona muttered. “It’s twenty-nine degrees outside, for heaven’s sake, well below freezing.”
Jonas pulled up a chair near his aunt, shrugged at his cousins. “If I had a dime for every time someone tried to figure out the chief, I’d be a wealthy man.”
Fiona sniffed. “You are a wealthy man, don’t be an ass. Now,” she said, staring straight at Sloan, “wouldn’t you rather stay here than out in the cold?”
