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
