Hot Holiday Rancher. Catherine Mann

No more ranching for me.” And that was all the reminder she needed for why she should keep her distance from this man and stay focused on her reason for being here. “Thank you for the hot cocoa and the clothes and the rescue. I should turn in for the night.”

      She rinsed her mug and made fast tracks for the guest suite before she was tempted to stay in the kitchen. To listen to the warm timbre of his voice.

      To imagine the taste of whiskey from his coffee on his tongue if he kissed her.

      Sleep had been a difficult commodity for Jesse, with images of his surprise houseguest filling his dreams. Visions of her soaking wet, yet equally enticing in sweats. What would it be like to peel those clothes from her body?

      Restless, he’d finally given up sleep just before dawn and gone to the barn to burn off energy.

      His cowboy boots reverberated on the cement floor as he approached Juniper’s stall. Grabbing the supple brown leather halter and lead, he made his way into the stall of his newest horse.

      Juniper, a young dapple gray mare, stretched her neck, giving her tangled mane a shake. She sniffed his hand, her whiskers softly touching his palm. The horse exhaled warm breath against his fingertips, a welcome sensation in the cool, damp morning air. Stepping closer, Jesse slipped the cognac halter on her head and led the mare to the crossties, where his brushes were waiting for him.

      He never grew tired of this, the connection with his horses and the land. Ranching was more than a job to him. It was a way of life.

      Picking up a currycomb, he moved his hand in circular patterns. Excess hair and dirt gathered in the brush.

      Other horses poked their heads from stalls. The barn held two rows of twelve stalls. Buddy, his first gelding, lazily chewed on hay, dropping bits of straw onto the ground. Flash, a muscular chestnut quarter horse, loosed a whinny. Beneath his hands, Juniper sucked in a breath before belting out an answering noise.