Rancher's Covert Christmas Read online

  “Hmm?” Zane hummed as he sipped his cocoa.

  “The bourbon.” She tucked her feet under her and angled her body toward his. “Honestly, the promise of booze was not a ruse to coerce you here. I know it was there.” A dimple pocked her forehead as she frowned, and he longed to rub away with his fingers. Although she did look awfully cute with that little wrinkle over her nose.

  He waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it.” Then hesitated. “Unless you’d like me to get more to replace it. I can—”

  She shook her head vehemently. “No. Not necessary. It’s just...puzzling.”

  Because Erin found it significant, Zane took a moment to consider what could have happened to the liquor. Since Roy’s stint in the rehabilitation clinic, the family had made a point of being more discreet about their own alcohol consumption. Had someone removed it in deference to the foreman? Or had—?

  “So,” Erin said, cutting into his musing. She set her mug aside and grabbed the lower leg of his jeans. “Give me those feet. Let’s get them warmed.”

  “They’re good now.” He took her hand and tugged it from his jeans.

  Erin angled a defiant look at him. “Come on, cowboy. Give me your feet. I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

  Heat slammed into him. And curiosity. What did she have in mind? When she started tugging on his boots, he helped her remove the dusty things as well as his socks. She lifted his feet into her lap, and using both hands, she began massaging his left foot. His feet were, in fact, still a bit numb from the cold, and her warm touch sent shock waves of pleasure through him.

  “Do you often go outside in the winter without shoes, Mr. McCall?” She grinned at him as she dug her thumbs into the arch of his foot.

  He moaned his approval of the deep massage and, closing his eyes, let his head loll back on the sofa cushion. “Only when I need traction on my truck roof to keep pretty journalists from breaking their neck.”

  Her hands stilled for a moment, and he cracked one eye open to peer at her. Her gaze was locked on his feet, her expression troubled. In the next moment, she pushed whatever had stopped her aside and continued working her fingers into his frozen foot.

  “How is your article coming along?” he asked to fill the awkward silence.

  Her Christmas-green eyes flicked to his. “Well enough. Still fact-finding and mulling what angle to take.”

  “Is there anything I can do to expedite—” When she stroked both thumbs along the length of his foot and gave his toes a firm squeeze, he swallowed the rest of his sentence. A satisfied groan slipped from his throat. Not only did her efforts loosen sore muscles and stimulate his chilled blood circulation, an intoxicating sensation rolled through him that shot desire straight to his groin. Who needed bourbon? He was getting drunk off Erin’s sensual caress.

  He swallowed hard and curled his fingers into a throw pillow beside him. Dear God, he’d never realized a foot rub could be so damn erotic.

  “Anything to expedite...?” she prompted.

  Zane sent her a hooded glance. “I have no idea. Who the hell can think while you’re doing those incredible things to my feet?”

  She flashed an impish grin. “You like?”

  He returned a throaty chuckle. “Oh, yeah.”

  The longer she rubbed his soles, flexed his toes and worked out pressure points in his heels, the more relaxed he became. He was paradoxically sleepy and turned on at the same time. And as much as he wanted to lean his head back on the sofa, close his eyes and simply savor the sensual massage, he was enjoying his view of Erin too much.

  She was a feast for the eyes, her quiet beauty made more vibrant in the glow from the fire. The flames cast gold highlights in the waves of her brown hair, and rosy stains still rode her cheeks from the outdoors’ cold. A mysterious half smile curved her lips as she worked, and he found himself staring at the pale pink bow of her mouth. Even void of any lipstick, her mouth looked dewy soft and enticing.

  The soft light from the fireplace danced across her face, animating the gentle curves and delicate angles of her chin, cheeks and nose, and giving her eyes an elfin twinkle. Watching her now, remembering her pure joy seeing the lights in the spruce tree, nudged at the somber mood that had managed to imprison him in recent months.

  The seriousness of the family’s finances and looming threat of the saboteur had placed a dark cloud of worry over him he couldn’t shake. Josh said he took things too personally, too seriously. His father told him the Double M’s problems weren’t Zane’s to solve and tried to shoulder the responsibility and burden alone, which only worried Zane more because his father’s blood pressure was a powder keg waiting to blow. Again.

  But when he was with Erin, things were different. Especially tonight, both decorating the tree and now with her magic hands working weeks of hard work and boot fatigue from his feet, Zane felt a comprehensive lift in his mood, a release of the pressure that like a thunderstorm had clouded his mood and filled him with stress for months.

  Yet for a woman with such an effect on him, Erin was a blank page to him. She was at his ranch, asking questions about him and his family and their ranching business, but he knew almost nothing about her. He cocked one eyebrow and tipped his head in query. “Who are you, Erin Palmer?”

  Her startled gaze darted to his. “What?”

  Shrugging one shoulder, he asked, “I know so little about you. Tell me something about you.”

  “Oh, well...” Her expression softened, and after she’d relaxed, he realized how much his initial question had rattled her.

  Curious. Why had his question about who she was bothered her? Was she hiding something?

  She paused to take a sip of her hot chocolate, then licked the foam from her lips. A kick of lust swamped Zane, and he almost missed her opening comment.

  “I grew up in Colorado Springs, moved to Boulder after I graduated from college and that’s where I call home at this point. I love movies, and football, and Christmas—but you knew that one,” she said with a twist of her mouth.

  She moved her massage from his left foot to his right and fresh waves of arousal flowed through him. With effort he kept his thoughts focused on the topic at hand. “Hobbies?”

  “A little photography...although that’s less a hobby and more work-related. I read a lot. Mysteries and romances. I like gardening. Flowers, not vegetables.”

  “Why not vegetables?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t know. I’m more in it for pretty landscaping than a meal, I guess.”

  “Pets?”

  “Not at the moment. I’m thinking about getting a cat.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Oh? Have you met Zeke?”

  “Zeke?”

  “Our family cat. He’s a real character.”

  She grinned. “Would he be the one that jumped on the table at dinner the other night or the shy black cat with the white bib?”

  He scoffed and shook his head. “Oh, right. Zeke did act up at dinner the other night, didn’t he? The black and white one is Sadie.”

  “I’d love to meet Zeke and Sadie officially, if that’s okay? Maybe tomorrow?”

  “Research for the article or are you a cat person?” he asked with a wry grin.

  “Both. Cats with character, two dogs that herd cattle, horses... The Double M’s animals are part of your life here.” She twitched a grin. “And, yes, I love cats, so...”

  “Then I will introduce you to the hellion on paws that is Zeke and his new sidekick, Sadie. Now...tell me more about your family.”

  She cupped her cocoa between her hands and stared into the drink silently for a moment. He rued the loss of her massaging fingers, but swung his feet to the floor, so he could reach for his own mug then pull his socks back on.

  “My parents are both living in Colorado Springs still, in the same house we grew up in.”


  “Do you have siblings?”

  “Two.” She furrowed her brow, set her mug aside, then cleared her throat. “Well, one now.” She took a deep breath. “My older brother, Sean, died.” She drew a shaky breath, and tears filled her eyes. “He was murdered.”

  Chapter 10

  Zane jerked taut, his spine straightening from his relaxed slouch. “What!”

  He blinked hard, waiting for her to tell him she was kidding, or that there was some explanation that would soften the harsh word she’d used. Murdered?

  A bitter scowl hardened her mouth, and she nodded. “By his fraternity brothers during rush. A hazing incident gone wrong.” Her expression soured further. “That’s what they claimed. But I never bought it. It was reckless endangerment, plain and simple, and they deserved to be held responsible. Seeing justice served was the reason I—”

  When she cut her words short and dropped her gaze, Zane leaned toward her. “The reason you what? Erin?”

  She shook her head, sniffed, dabbed at her eyes. “Nothing.”

  Her abrupt silence after the passion that had instigated the half comment rankled. Hadn’t they just pledged to trust each other? He might have pressed the issue, but the abject misery on her face pummeled him.

  He reached for her hand, which he discovered was trembling. How would he feel if he lost Josh or Piper? The possibility was too ugly to consider, and when his gut roiled, he determinedly shoved the notion aside. He refused to go there, even in theory.

  “Hey,” he said, leaning toward her, his thumb stroking her knuckles. “I’m so sorry for your loss. For bringing up a bad memory. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it.”

  He studied Erin for a moment, who stared at the fire, her face a mask of grief. She wiped her thumb beneath her eye to dry the moisture there, then whispered, “It’s okay. Talking about it helps. It keeps him alive just a little bit. And I won’t let the pain of what happened because of those jerks steal the last bits I have of Sean.”

  She shot him a look as heated as the flames crackling in the grate. “They wanted to bury it, to make it go away quietly and cover their guilt. The university, the fraternity’s national office and especially the guys’ lawyers. They swore up and down under oath that it was a sad and tragic accident.” Her grip on his hand tightened. “But I knew in my gut there was more to the story. And I proved that I was right.”

  Zane blinked, his heart drubbing a beat of dread. He didn’t want to dwell on her unpleasant memory, wanted to recapture the lighthearted conversation they’d enjoyed moments earlier. But something—her passionate reaction over the injustice of Sean’s death, a desire to better understand what made Erin tick—or maybe just morbid curiosity—led him to ask, “What happened? How did he die?”

  “The official report says asphyxiation due to anaphylaxis. Sean had a severe peanut allergy, a fact he didn’t keep quiet, because even a little nut residue caused him to react. It was in his application to the university, the forms he filled out for the fraternity dietary staff, and he had told his roommate, who had already pledged to the fraternity. In fact, Sean told us some of the brothers had grumbled to him about the fact that they’d eliminated peanut butter and nut products from the house on his account. So when the brothers of the fraternity claimed they didn’t know about his allergy—” She scoffed and pressed her mouth into a taut line of frustration. “Bull malarkey. Complete bull malarkey.”

  “I take it they gave him something with nuts. Willfully?” Zane ventured, his mouth feeling dry and a sense of disquiet swelling in his chest.

  “Not only willingly, maliciously. I’ve talked with people who were there, people who tried to help him and were blocked in their efforts to save Sean.”

  “What?” A ripple of shock flowed through him, hiking his own tension up another notch.

  “The whole thing was couched as a stupid contest for the pledges.” Her anger vibrated in her tone, and she shoved to her feet to pace. “They were blindfolded, hands tied behind their backs, and placed at a table where they were supposed to have an eating contest. The first one to finish the plate of brownies in front of them would win a pass on the next challenge. But it was a setup. They wanted to embarrass Sean, wanted to cause an allergic reaction, so they could make fun of his distorted face and blotchy skin. So the brownies were made with peanut oil. On purpose.”

  Zane muttered a scorching curse under his breath and tracked her agitated movement around the room. Her hands balled and flexed, as if itching to punch something...or someone. He had the same gnawing impulse and rubbed his jittery palms on his jeans.

  “He had gobbled quite a bit of them before the first symptoms showed up,” she continued. “His roommate said that his face started swelling and a rash popped out on his arms and cheeks within a minute or two. Sean had stopped eating as soon as he realized what was happening, but it was too late. He’d ingested too much to stop the reaction’s progress.”

  “And when they saw how serious his reaction was—?”

  “The brothers who’d planned the stunt just laughed at him. Supposedly, they didn’t realize how serious his symptoms were. Sean couldn’t talk because his throat had swollen shut. He couldn’t use his hands to signal his distress, because they were tied behind his back. When his roommate tried to call 9-1-1, another guy snatched his phone away and told him, quote, ‘not to be a pussy.’”

  Zane scrubbed both hands over his face as a prickling ire heated his cheeks. “Those bastards!”

  His fury on her behalf made him edgy. He struggled to find an outlet for the sharp-edged sense of disgust and injustice—a feeling far too close to what he’d been carrying for months regarding the unresolved sabotage at the ranch. “Surely, knowing about his allergy, he had some epinephrine on hand for emergencies.”

  “He did. But he couldn’t talk to tell anyone where it was. And though the brothers claimed they didn’t realize how serious the attack was, my witnesses said they were too busy guffawing and imitating his swollen face and choking sounds to think about what was actually happening.” She paused by the fireplace and dashed angrily at another tear on her cheek. “They were, of course, drunk as skunks, and when they did realize the seriousness, the idiots thought first of saving their own sorry hides. Most of them fled the scene like sniveling cowards. His roommate tried to find Sean’s EpiPen, but Sean suffocated before Danny got back with it.”

  Zane struggled to draw air in his lungs. The story was too horrifying, too maddening, to process. Finally in a strangled-sounding voice, he said, “Please tell me the reprobates were prosecuted and held responsible.”

  “Not initially. The incident was originally dismissed as a tragic accident. The fraternity’s lawyer even tried to put blame on Sean, saying he should have had his EpiPen with him, he should have inquired about what was in the brownies—like they’d have told the truth. It was a setup.”

  “You’re sure it was?”

  She nodded. “My witnesses talked, laid out the whole story in exchange for immunity.”

  “Your witnesses?” He cocked his head. “What do you mean by that?”

  She gave him an odd look, then rubbing her hands on her jeans, she returned to the couch and sat facing him. “My parents accepted a settlement from the school and fraternity in exchange for an agreement not to pursue litigation. I tried to convince them not to, but they wanted to make it all go away. The stress and grief was killing my mother, and they seemed to think that out of sight would mean out of mind.”

  Zane grunted his disagreement. But who was he to condemn her family? Everyone handled grief in their own way. “So the creeps got away with it?”

  She held up a hand, asking for patience. “But...I learned from a family friend, who was our lawyer, that the agreement only said they wouldn’t file civil charges. That didn’t mean the state couldn’t file criminal charges if enough evidence or witnesses who’d testify were fo
und. So I changed my plans for the next fall—I’d been accepted to Duke, but I decided to go the university that Sean had attended—and I did some investigating of my own.”

  Zane sat taller, his pulse kicking up. “Duke’s such a good school, though! Why—?”

  “I know! But finding justice for Sean was more important to me. He was my brother! Surely you can understand the need that compelled me? The sense of unfinished business, of imbalance and inequity in my world?”

  A strange sense of connection filled him, warm and gratifying. He’d lived with a feeling his life was out of balance, weighted by injustice, for much of the last two years, since the sabotage had begun—and gone unresolved. He reached for her, shifting his body closer and curling his hand around her. “I do understand. Completely.”

  Her gaze dropped to their joined hands, and when she lifted her eyes to his again, a warmth shimmered from their evergreen depths.

  He brushed a coil of her silky hair from her eyes. “And did you find what you wanted at Sean’s school?”

  She lifted a corner of her mouth, nodding slowly, and the satisfaction that transformed her face nestled in his core like a private victory.

  “How?”

  She took a breath and exhaled before explaining. “I went to parties at the fraternity, using my middle name—Moira—as a last name, so I wouldn’t tip my hand, and when the brothers started drinking, the alcohol loosened tongues. The more information I gathered, playing the part of a gossip-hungry coed, the more I knew where else to dig, who to question, where to obtain documents from the fraternity’s internal investigation, where the truth had been reported and then buried. When they thought they were earning points with me, revealing juicy details about the previous year’s scandal, the brothers were willing to give up their secrets in exchange for sex.” She arched one eyebrow in disgust. “Or rather the suggestion they’d get sex. I wouldn’t have slept with them for anything.”

  He returned a dark scowl, imagining the cretins pawing at her. Jealousy and protective ire surged in him.