for champagne?—chafed his practical business sense. Anything frivolous that ate away the bottom line was a burr under his saddle. This party was the whole prickly bush. Grunting in frustration, he swiped a beach towel off a lounge chair and held it out for Seth.
“Sorry, Daddy,” Seth said mournfully, his eyes downcast as he slopped over in his wet clothes and shoes.
“Didn’t I ask you this morning to be on your best behavior?” Squatting, Jack wrapped the towel around him and rubbed an end over his shaggy brown hair.
“Yes, sir.” Seth lifted a rebellious look. “But this party is so boring! There are no kids to play with and no bouncy castle or games.”
Jack was bored, too, and eager to get out in the north pasture to check on the most recently born calves. “Tell you what. Go change into dry clothes, behave like the good boy I know you can be for the rest of the party and we’ll get ice cream in town tonight. Deal?”
Seth’s face brightened. “Two scoops?”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “A wheeler-dealer like your grandpa, I see.”
Seth grinned at the comparison. “Pa Pa says, ‘never take the first offer. Always ask for a more better deal.’”
“Just ‘better.’ Not ‘more better.’”
Seth wrinkled his nose. “Huh?”
Inside the house, Seth’s Pa Pa, Big J, gave a bellowing laugh that reached all the way to the pool. Jack shook his head. Seth could do worse than to emulate Big J. Poor grammar aside.
“Sure. Two scoops. If you eat a good dinner.” Great, now Jack sounded like someone’s mother. Not his mother, though. Abra had never cared whether he ate his vegetables or brushed his teeth. She still barely bothered herself with her children, unless it served her purposes. Case in point, Greta’s engagement party.
“Excuse me.”
Jack angled his head to meet the gaze of the woman beside him who’d spoken. He squinted against the bright Oklahoma sun, which backlit her.
“Are you Jack Colton?” she asked.
“I am.”
“May I have a word with you?” Her voice was noticeably thin and unsteady. She cleared her throat and added, “Privately?”
In his head, Jack groaned. What now?
He swatted Seth on the bottom. “Go get changed, Spud.”
With a curious glance at the woman, Seth nodded and squished across the lawn toward the old ranch house.
Jack pushed to his feet, his knee cracking thanks to an old rodeo injury, and faced the woman at eye level. Well, almost eye level. Though tall for a woman, she was still a good five or six inches shorter than his six foot one. He recognized her as the woman he’d seen earlier lurking in the foyer, practically casing the main house. “And you are...?”
He suspected she was a reporter, based on the messenger bag hanging from her shoulder, though why a reporter would need to speak privately with him was beyond him. He had nothing to say to any reporter, privately or otherwise.
She took a deep breath and nervously wet her lips. “Tracy McCain.”
The name didn’t ring any bells, but when she extended her hand in greeting, he shook it.
She added a shy smile, her porcelain cheeks flushing, and a stir of attraction tickled Jack deep inside. Hell, more than a stir. He gave her a leisurely scrutiny, sizing her up. She might be tall and thin, but she still had womanly curves to go with her delicate china-doll face. “Am I supposed to know you?”
Her smile dropped. “Laura never mentioned me?”
His ex-wife’s name instantly raised his hackles and his defenses. His eyes narrowed. “Not that I recall. How do you know Laura?”
“I’m her cousin. Her maternal aunt’s daughter. From Colorado Springs.”
Jack gritted his back teeth. Laura had been dead only a few months and already relations she’d never mentioned were crawling out of the woodwork like roaches after the light’s turned off. The allure of the Colton wealth had attracted more than one gold-digging pest over the years. “You should know, Laura signed an agreement when we divorced. She got a tidy settlement in place of any alimony. The agreement meant she gave up any further financial claim on Colton money or the Lucky C.”
Tracy lifted her chin. “I’m aware.”
“So you’re barking up the wrong tree, if you’re looking for cash.”
Tracy blinked her pale blue eyes, and her expression shifted, hardened. “I’m not after money,” she said, with frost in her tone.
Jack scratched his chin and tipped his head, giving her a skeptical glare. “Then what?”
She waved a hand toward the house, then, as if realizing they’d have no more privacy inside than here by the pool, she frowned. “Is there someplace quiet we can talk?”
Ten minutes ago, Jack had been dying for an excuse to ditch Abra’s party. Now he had the excuse he’d been looking for, but his gut told him he’d be no better off hearing Miss Blue Eyes out.
“Fine.” He huffed an exasperated sigh and headed across the lawn, leaving her to follow or not. Her choice.
The main house was a good distance from the stable, barn, bunkhouse and other outbuildings— two miles by the dirt road, a little less if you cut across fields and grassy lawns. He had driven one of the ranch’s utility vehicles over to the party, but some peevish rebellion in him decided to walk now. If Tracy wanted to talk to him, she could hoof it to the stable. Ninety-five degree Oklahoma heat and gravel road be damned.
He walked too quickly for her to match his long-legged stride, but to her credit, she didn’t fall too far behind. As they neared the stable, cutting across a corner of one of the holding pens, he aimed a finger at one of the many cow patties, warning, “Watch your step.”
She drew a quick breath and took a last-minute side step to avoid a pile. For what it was worth. Her modest brown dress pumps were caked in mud, the heels likely ruined by the gravel. Jack experienced a moment of compunction for her destroyed shoes, but he pushed it aside. She should have known better than to wear shoes like that to a ranch.
He wiped sweat from his brow as he entered the shade of the stable, where large fans circulated the scents of manure, straw and leather in the stuffy alley between horse stalls. In a shady corner of an empty stall, their black barn cat, Sleek, napped between hunting expeditions. The family wanted Sleek to catch mice, which she did, but the feline seemed more interested in birds...and sneaking into the old ranch house to sleep on Seth’s bed when Jack wasn’t looking.
Jack gave a pat to one of the mares, which stuck her nose out as he passed, then made his way to Buck’s stall. His buckskin gelding tossed his black mane when Jack opened the stall door and led him out.
When Tracy caught up to him, she was breathing heavily and perspiration rolled down her face and neck. The fine, sweat-dampened hair around her temples and ears curled in sweet
