Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
As Sly and Lana headed into the parking garage, feelings he didn’t understand crowded his chest once again. They scared him but were too powerful to push away.
Time to cut and run.
He opened his mouth to say he needed to get back to work, but something else came out instead. “Would you like to see my ranch? I’d really like to show you around.”
Astounded at himself, he shut his big mouth.
His home was his private refuge, the place where he could let go and be himself.
Over the years a few women he’d dated had come to the ranch—at their own invitation, not his.
But this was different. Lana was carrying his child. She ought to see the place.
While he was reeling from the implications of his offer, she dazzled him with a smile that almost brought him to his knees.
“I’d love that. Tell me when and I’ll put it on the calendar.”
He checked his watch. It was just after five. Mrs. Rutland would be on her way home and his men should be finished with the afternoon chores and relaxing in their trailers for the evening. He didn’t want anyone who worked with him catching sight of Lana and getting ideas.
“How about now?” He’d give her a quick tour, then send her on her way. “Why don’t you follow me in your car.”
“Okay. But I should warn you—I haven’t eaten in several hours, and this baby likes me to stay well fed.” Laughing softly, she laid her palm over her belly. “In other words, I’m going to need food pretty soon.”
Her laughter was contagious, and he chuckled. “Not a problem. My housekeeper makes dinner before she leaves for the day. It should be ready to heat up.”
What the hell? Had he really just invited her to dinner?
“You have a cook? Lucky you.”
“She cleans, too, and don’t I know how lucky I am. Mrs. Rutland is the best.”
Lana’s happy expression faded. “There is one little problem—you live next door to Cousin Tim.”
Sly frowned. “Have you ever been to the Lazy C Ranch?”
“Not since I was thirteen and he was a newlywed.”
“Tim used to be married?”
“Yes, but it didn’t last. About six months after the wedding, his wife filed for divorce and left him.”
Sly hadn’t been aware of that, but it explained a few things, such as why his neighbor seemed mad at the world. Or maybe the guy had been born that way.
“Then you know that his spread is five hundred acres,” he went on. “Mine is almost double that, and a fair amount of land separates our houses. You aren’t likely to run into him.”
Still, she appeared worried, fiddling with the hem of her blouse and almost frowning. Sly figured she was having second thoughts about going to his place. Which should’ve been a relief but wasn’t. Oddly disappointed, he shrugged. “Look, if you’d rather not...”
“No, Sly. I want to see it.”
He nodded. “Then follow me.”
As Sly turned at the black-and-white Pettit Ranch sign and rolled up the long gravel driveway, satisfaction filled him.
He’d spent a decade building his ranch into what it was today.
From the freshly painted barn and outbuildings to the rolling pastures dotted with grazing cattle and horses, he was proud of it all.
He glanced in the rearview mirror. Lana trailed close behind him. Was she impressed? In a few minutes he’d find out.
Just beyond the barn he signaled for her benefit, pulled over and braked to a stop. Standing beside his truck, he waited for her.
It was that magical time of day when the very air seemed bathed in oranges and pinks. Moving toward him, Lana looked unbelievably beautiful, like a woman in a painting at sunset.
Desire and the feelings he didn’t comprehend steamrollered him. He swallowed hard and wanted her gone. The sooner, the better. When she left, he’d find something physically demanding to mellow him out and knock sense into his Lana-crazed brain.
“This is my ranch,” he said.
If she heard any brusqueness in his voice, she didn’t let on. Wide-eyed, she took it all in. “It’s huge, Sly, and beautiful—exactly what I imagine a perfect ranch to be.”
His chest swelled. “Come on, I’ll show you around before I put dinner in the oven.”
She was full of questions. As he answered them and explained how he ran his operation, he relaxed.
Some twenty minutes later, her stomach growled. With a sheepish look, she placed her hand over her belly. “Oops.”
Sly chuckled. “I’ll heat up dinner.”
He followed her up the front steps to the veranda that spanned the entire width of the house.
“What a great porch, and that love seat seems cozy,” she said. “I want to curl up there with a good book.”
He liked that. “It’s a swing, too, and one of my favorite places to sit in the evening, after the chores are done.”
Lately he’d sat out here a lot at night, working on just how he was going to fit his kid into his life without screwing up.
She glanced upward. “This house is huge—at least twice the size of my town home.”
Too big for one person, but Sly had had nothing to do with that. “The people I bought it from had three kids. I guess they needed the room.”
“What happened to them?”
“The bank was getting ready to foreclose on the property, and they wanted out.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Ranching isn’t easy, and they were relieved to trade this life for one in the city. Last I heard, they were doing okay.” He opened the front door and gestured Lana inside.
As she stepped into the vestibule, he imagined her and their child here, filling the house with noise and laughter.
That stopped him. No way, no how. He enjoyed living alone. Cursing himself for inviting her over, he turned away from her questioning gaze. “This way,” he said with a curt nod.
She fell into step beside him. “I envy you so much space in this kitchen,” she said as she entered the room.
It was big, all right, with room enough for a small horde. Usually Sly and Mrs. Rutland were the only ones in here, with periodic visits from Dani and an occasional crew member.
Having Lana in here felt...different. Felt right. Frowning, he switched on the oven.
“What can I do to help?” she asked.
Go home before I do something we’ll both regret. But it was too late for that. She’d already agreed to eat with him.
She gave him one of the smiles that erased his common sense. Who was he kidding? As bad an idea as bringing her to the ranch was, he definitely wanted her here. He wanted her, period.
“Sly?” She shot him a funny look. “I asked if there’s something I can do to help with dinner.”
“How about setting the table.”
After she washed her hands, he showed her where to find the place mats and utensils.
As she bent down to arrange them out on the table, she kicked the ordinary task to a whole new level of hot.
He really was losing it. Tired of his one-track mind, he grabbed two glasses from the cabinet. “While dinner heats, I’ll give you the five-cent house tour.”
He showed her the main floor—living room, den, dining, and powder rooms.
“All the bedrooms are upstairs?” she asked.
“That’s right—all four of them.”
Her sudden, telltale blush revealed that she was thinking about all the beds in those rooms, or was he the only one? But inviting her, or any woman, to bed at his house was off-limits.
Yet he considered breaking his rule just this once and giving her a hands-on tour of his king-size bed.
The oven buzzed and he jerked his thoughts back to the here and now. His brain heaved a relieved sigh, but his body wasn’t happy.
The sooner Lana left, the better.
“Time to eat,” he said, and they returned to the kitchen.