Kiss Me. Сьюзен Мэллери
are cashmere goats,” Chase grinned. “Just imagine the horror of discovering a cattleman raising goats. They’re Zane’s most embarrassing secret.”
She supposed the romance of the Old West didn’t lend itself to goats the same way it did to cattle, but as far as she was concerned, four-legged grazing animals were all pretty much the same.
She’d sure seen plenty on her tour. The Nicholson Ranch was nothing if not huge. As they’d been on foot, she and Chase had only explored a tiny bit of it. She didn’t know the going price of cattle on the hoof, or the per acre value of land in this part of the country, but from what she could tell, no Nicholson was ever going to die poor.
Better than that, the land had been in their possession for generations. Phoebe wondered what it would be like to have roots and a history—a place to belong. Family.
“If he doesn’t like goats, why does he have them?” she asked.
Before Chase could answer, a man on horseback rode over a crest in the property. One minute there had been green grass and blue sky, while the next a tall silhouette appeared. Zane. Phoebe watched, mesmerized. Her lone experience with riding a horse consisted of slow, sedate turns on a carousel. Not exactly the same as cow roping on the open range.
As she watched, he approached. He moved easily on the horse, riding or swaying or doing something so that he and the animal appeared to be one and the same. It was darned impressive.
As Zane got closer, his handsome features became clearer, which made her breathing increase. Chase might be the charming brother, but there was something mighty fine about Zane Nicholson.
Beside her, Chase groaned. “He’s going to make me help Frank put together the kits for the cattle drive.”
“What kits?”
Chase grimaced. “Supplies. Tents, eating utensils, first aid, that sort of thing. We have to take it with us and he’s basically made me Frank’s slave.”
Phoebe wanted to ask who Frank was. She also considered pointing out that if Chase hadn’t taken money from unsuspecting customers in the first place, none of this would have happened. But before she could say anything, Zane reined in his horse and dismounted. From the second his feet touched the ground, she knew it was going to be impossible for her to form coherent sentences.
However, Zane ignored her, instead turning his disapproving expression on his brother. “Frank’s looking for you.”
“I’ll get there.” Chase turned his back on his brother. “I was showing Phoebe the goats.”
“Frank’s waiting now. Folks’ll be arriving tomorrow. We need to be prepared. If we’re short on supplies, you’ll have to head into town and pick them up.”
Chase muttered something under his breath, but didn’t overtly argue with Zane.
“Take Tango with you,” Zane said, handing the reins to his brother.
Chase grabbed them, then turned his attention to Phoebe. Rebellion darkened his eyes and tightened his expression. “Sorry to cut this short. Maybe my brother will tell you all about the goats.” Some of his annoyance faded as a smile pulled at his mouth. “They hold a special place in his heart.”
With that, he left. Zane watched him go, then walked to the edge of the fenced pen and rested his arms on the top rail.
Dinner with Zane hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped. They’d started out okay, but early on, he’d gotten quiet. She wanted to tell herself it was because he had a lot on his mind, but in her heart, she had a feeling he simply didn’t find her interesting. Which was too bad, because he was the most compelling man she’d ever met.
“You think I’m too hard on the boy.”
His words were so at odds with what she’d been thinking that it took her a second to catch up. “Not unless you’re beating him in secret.”
She couldn’t be sure, but she thought maybe one corner of his mouth turned up. “I’ve thought about it from time to time.”
Phoebe made a quick mental list of Chase’s recent infractions, then admitted the possibility that he’d been a handful all of his life.
“Thinking and acting are two different things.”
Zane’s response was a quiet grunt. She tried to figure out if that was better or worse than a loud grunt. When she couldn’t come up with a decision, she turned her attention to the pen in front of them.
“Tell me about the goats,” she said.
“What do you want to know?”
Like she had a basic “Ten facts about goats” list she needed filled. “Are they friendly?”
Zane shot her a look that wasn’t especially pleasant...or flattering. Okay, so if he didn’t like the question he could have volunteered information on his own.
“They can be tamed. It takes time and effort.”
Somehow she doubted he was willing to put either into the goats.
“Chase implied it’s a problem for a cattle rancher to have goats. Is that true?”
Zane shifted his weight, then stepped back from the pen. “Come on,” he said and started walking.
Phoebe figured she had the choice to follow him or not. Even as she told herself he wasn’t very social and obviously didn’t like having her around, her hormones kicked in, sending instructions to her legs. Before she could decide if she wanted to follow Zane or not, she found herself dutifully trailing after him.
They circled around a barn, passing more pens with more goats. There were dozens and dozens of the horned, furry critters. An entire goat colony. Sort of a Nicholson Ranch Goat-ville.
Zane stopped in front of a pen filled with small goats. Instantly her kitten-and-puppy-loving heart contracted at the sight of baby goats. They were small and sweet-looking with big eyes and dark noses they had yet to grow into.
She crouched down by the fence and sighed. Her heretofore silent biological clock offered a soft but meaningful tick.
“Just weaned,” he said.
“They’re darling.”
“They’re for sale.”
Phoebe gasped. “You’re allowing some stranger to rip apart goat families?” The second the words were out, she realized how stupid they sounded.
“I didn’t mean that,” she said hastily as she scrambled to her feet. “It’s not as if goats have an actual social infrastructure that will be disturbed by separation or anything. And if they’re old enough to be weaned, then I guess they’ll be okay on their own.”
Zane’s expression remained unreadable throughout her monologue, for which she was really grateful. When she was done, he let the silence linger. A neat trick that made her words echo in her brain, sounding more ridiculous with each replay.
Finally he asked, “What did you say you did in LA?”
“I sell real estate.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Beverly Hills.”
“Ever been on a horse?” he asked.
“Just a wooden one.”
Zane turned away. She thought he might have muttered something under his breath. As it hadn’t sounded like “golly darn” she didn’t ask him to repeat it.
“Why did Maya drag you out here?” he asked.
Phoebe didn’t think telling him that Maya was hoping she would be a distraction, and a possible sex partner, would be something he was longing to hear.
“I needed a vacation,” she said. Unfortunately the