Expecting the Rancher's Heir / Taming Her Billionaire Boss: Expecting the Rancher's Heir
me you’re going to take pity on him and let him out of this stupid bet.”
“Not on your life.” Grinning, he shook his head. “I don’t feel the least bit sorry for him. He’ll be on a tractor with a heated cab, a built-in CD player that he can crank up as loud as he wants with his favorite bluegrass music, and if I know Cactus, he’ll have a Thermos of Irish coffee to keep him company.”
“You make it sound like he was going to win either way.”
Shane nodded as they climbed the stairs. “We go through this every fall. He’ll come up with a bet he knows he can’t win in order to do something he enjoys.”
She didn’t understand that kind of logic. “Then why doesn’t he just volunteer for the job?”
“Because that’s not how the old guy works,” he explained. “When his arthritis started making it hard for him to do some of the ranch work, I knew he didn’t want to leave the ranch. It’s been his home for as long as I can remember. So I started complaining about needing someone to cook and take care of the house.” Shane grinned. “I didn’t really need anyone to do that, and he knew it. But he couldn’t come right out and ask me for the job.”
“So that’s when the bets started?” she guessed.
Shane nodded. “He bet me that I couldn’t beat his time at saddling a horse. If he won, I had to buy him a new pair of boots and if I won, he would take the housekeeping job.”
She liked that Shane would go to those lengths to preserve the older man’s dignity. It told her a lot more about his character than he realized.
“You did it to save his pride.”
“Exactly.” Chuckling, Shane opened the door to the room he had shown her earlier. “So, with this latest bet, he not only gets to drive the tractor and pretend he’s doing ranch work again, he has something to gripe about while he’s doing it. And if there’s anything he likes better than complaining, I don’t know of it. He got his nickname because he’s prickly as a cactus.”
Melissa smiled as she entered the room. “He sounds like quite a colorful character.”
“He is.” Leaning one shoulder against the doorframe, Shane folded his arms across his wide chest. “He can be an ornery old cuss, but he’s got a heart of solid gold. I’ll make sure you get to meet him sometime.”
“I’d like that.” When he stood there as if he waited for something, she rose up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Good night.”
Before she could back away, he put his arms around her. “It will be once we go to my room.”
“I don’t understand.” With his strong arms around her and the feel of his hard body pressed to hers, she suddenly felt winded. “If you wanted me to spend the night in your room … why did you put my case … in here?”
“I thought you might like to have the privacy this afternoon when you freshened up,” he said, nuzzling the side of her neck. “I never intended for you to sleep here.”
When his lips skimmed the hollow below her ear, a tingle raced up her spine. “Oh, I thought—”
“—I’d want you to leave my bed once we’d made love,” he finished for her. “Not a chance, angel.”
That wasn’t what she had been thinking, but it was better than telling him that she thought he had lost interest in her now that she was pregnant. Some men couldn’t get away from a woman fast enough when they learned of an unplanned pregnancy. Not knowing him any better than she did, what else was she to think?
But apparently she had been wrong about his desire waning. She sighed. It was just one more example of their lack of knowledge about each other, not to mention a serious breakdown in communication.
Before she could point that out, he asked, “Where’s your bag? I’ll take it to my room.”
Taking a step back, she walked over to open one of the dresser drawers and removed her nightshirt. “After I unpacked, I put it in the closet.”
He frowned as he pointed to the garment she held. “I’ve never known you to wear nightclothes.”
“That’s because you always left my place before I put them on,” she shot back. “And since you seemed surprised to learn that I do wear a nightshirt, I assume you don’t wear anything to bed.”
“Nope,” he said, grinning. “I don’t like the encumbrance.”
She shook her head. “This is what I was talking about earlier, Shane. If we had spent more time get ting to know each other, we would know these things.”
“You never wanted me to spend the night because you were afraid someone at the resort might find out and start gossiping about it,” he pointed out.
She couldn’t argue with him about that. It had been at her insistence that he leave Willow Lodge each night after they’d made love.
“But that’s water under the bridge now,” he said, shrugging.
Too tired to debate the issue any further, she nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and steered her out into the hall. “I’ll help you move your things to my room in the morning before we leave. Right now, we need to get to bed. We’ll have to be up early if we’re going to have lunch at the falls tomorrow.”
When he led her into his bedroom and turned on the bedside lamp, she took a moment to look around. A lot could be learned from someone’s personal space.
She wasn’t at all surprised to see the large room was decorated in the same rustic, masculine style as the downstairs. A king-size log bed with a Native American–print comforter and pillows dominated the room. The bright colors of the matching drapes contrasted perfectly with the dark log walls and heavy, peeled-log dresser and chest of drawers.
If she had ever had any doubts about Shane being the quintessential cowboy, they were gone now. One look at his choice of decor was all it took to know that he was a lot like the land he loved—rugged and a little wild. The type of man that was dangerous to a woman’s peace of mind. The very type women just couldn’t seem to resist.
“How long has your family owned the ranch?” she asked.
“A little over a hundred and twenty-five years.” He unbuttoned his shirt. “Hasn’t your family owned Jarrod Ridge about as long?”
Fascinated by the play of his chest muscles when Shane shrugged out of the shirt, it took a moment for her to realize what he had asked. “Y-yes, my father’s great great-grandfather started it and every generation since has expanded the business.”
“What do you think your generation will add to the resort?” he asked, unbuckling his belt and reaching for the button at the waistband of his jeans.
“I don’t know,” she said absently. She was far too engrossed in watching him reveal his magnificent body to worry about what would happen at Jarrod Ridge.
When he pushed the denim down his thighs, her heart skipped a beat. She had watched him strip off his clothes many times since they began their affair. She had even helped him take them off a few times, but the sight of his well-developed physique never failed to take her breath away.
“Aren’t you going to change?” he asked as he reached for the waistband of his boxer briefs.
He either didn’t know the effect he had on her or he was intentionally trying to drive her crazy. She suspected it was the latter.
Suddenly feeling as if she would burst into tears and not entirely certain why, Melissa quickly took off her clothes and pulled the nightshirt on. Walking around to the right side of the bed, she got in and closed her eyes. She was on Shane’s ranch, in his bed and pregnant with his baby. It was all too much to comprehend.
Overwhelmed