The Rancher's Surrender

It should bug her, she wanted it to bug her, but even she wasn't that selfish.

What really got to her was that she was feeling, feeling for him, in a world where she didn't want to feel at all.

* * *

Days later, under an early morning gray sky, surrounded by Idaho wilderness, Zoe was dangerously silent. This was unusual because Ty could see the steam coming out of her ears, and a mad Zoe wasn't usually a quiet one.

He bad no idea what had set her off this time; it could have been any of a thousand things. Worry about getting the ranch running again must be foremost. Frustration at the condition of the place might be another. Money, or lack of, yet even another.

He only knew that her eyes were hot and her face miserable, a combination that did something to him he didn't like.

It softened him.

The day darkened as heavy clouds moved across the sky. A storm was coming in fast. They stood outside the old barn, a clipboard in Zoe's hands as they made a list of repairs. The necessary repairs only, because stubborn as Zoe was, she wanted to do this alone with her sisters, without his financial help.

Which meant money was scarce, very scarce.

Ty had been rattling off items an operating ranch couldn't do without, and Zoe had been silently writing everything down, until now. She stood there, braced against the wind as if preparing to ward off her archenemy. They could hear the river waging its timeless battle. Around them the green lushness of the land seemed to darken with the oncoming summer storm. Far in the distance came the roll of thunder. A large drop of rain hit Ty on the arm, but he ignored the beauty around him to stare at the pensive woman standing before him.

What gave her that look? he wondered. The one that made his arms itch to hold her?

'The door has got to be replaced,' he repeated for the third time, and once again, her pen didn't move, she just stared-or glared-off into the impending storm, lost in her own world. Her hair, loosened by the wind, whipped around her face. A booming crack of thunder didn't even faze her.

'And the pigs that you'll purchase can fly,' he said softly.

Under other circumstances he might have laughed when she didn't react, but there was something haunting about her expression, as if all that pent-up anger was really just a front and beneath it was a lonely, frightened woman. 'Zoe?'

She jumped a little and narrowed her eyes, glaring at him as if he'd just let off a firecracker in her ear. 'What?'

'Are you okay?'

'Of course.'

'Of course,' he repeated with a little laugh. 'If you weren't, would you tell me?'

She was silent. Lightning flashed sharply.

Zoe's lips tightened as she shifted the pen in her fingers. The wind had layered her shirt against her body like a second skin, revealing tight, toned curves.

She was cold and he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Another drop fell, and another.

'Look, we're here to get this list made,' she said with a shiver, and looked uneasily into the sky as yet another bolt of lightning streaked across it. More thunder and the air echoed like a drum, so loud that they could no longer hear the river. 'So stop dawdling,' she complained.

'I can't say Delia didn't warn me,' Ty said dryly. 'But man, was she right.'

'Delia's never right, she just thinks she is.'

'She was right about this, believe me. You're grumpy as hell in the mornings, aren't you?'

Her hand, the one that held the pen, fell to her side. The furrow between her brows deepened as she frowned. 'I'm grumpy as hell all the time, you already knew that. And why were you talking about me to Delia?'

'Because Delia likes to talk. And you know what? I don't think you're always grumpy at all. I think you just like to hide behind it.' He stepped closer, his boots crunching in the dirt that was pitted with the sparse but huge drops coming down.

Zoe lifted her chin, too stubborn to suggest they move into the barn, even as the sky let loose, dropping what seemed like gallons of water right out of the sky.

They were drenched within seconds.

Grabbing her hand, Ty yanked her inside the dark, musty barn just as thunder roared again, so loud his ears rung. Rain pounded the roof like a drumbeat.

She ignored the fact that water ran down her face in rivulets, disappearing into the neck of her shirt, which was equally wet. She ignored the fact that he was wet, too. And that they were nose to nose, breathing hard as if they'd run a mile.

'Why do you do that?' he demanded.

'Do what?'

His body was nearly flush with hers, so close he could see the pulse at the base of her neck as it went wild. Yet her face remained cool, and between them she crossed her arms, putting that barrier between their drenched bodies.

It was frustrating as hell. 'That,' he accused, slipping his hand up, spreading it lightly on her throat and neck. Her skin was wet and unbelievably soft. Her hair had rioted, the dripping curls everywhere. 'You pretend you don't feel anything, when I know you do. It drives me crazy.'

His touch drove her crazy, but he didn't have to know that. Talking was difficult with his hand on her, with his fingers flirting softly with her skin. Skin that had gone hot and itchy for more.

Her heart thundered in tune to the driving rain. She dropped her arms to her sides and shivered as he brought his deliciously warm body closer. 'I'm n-not cold,' she said, stuttering as her teeth chattered. 'You don't have to keep me warm.'

'If you're not cold, why are you shivering?' he asked. 'For me?'

'No.'

A lie and they both knew it. 'If I kiss you,' he murmured huskily, leaning close, his eyes sleepy and sexy, 'are you going to hit me again?'

'I didn't hit you last time, did I?' His fingers were moving on her now, flirting with the neck of her shirt, doing a little circle near her collarbone that had her legs feeling rubbery and weak.

God. Why couldn't he just accept the unfeeling facade she was trying to give him? Why couldn't he just leave her alone? But no, he wanted her. He wanted Zoe, the real Zoe, the one she couldn't give him because she had buried that woman too deep.

Outside the barn, the storm raged. Rain hit the roof like a herd of wild horses, pounding, drumming. It matched her pulse as she stared wide-eyed at the man holding her a willing captive.

She thought she just might forever associate the sound of the rain with how she felt right now, as if she were on the edge of a huge abyss, waiting to fall, fall, fall… for a man.

Not just any man, but this one. Ty Jackson. 'I don't think kissing is a great idea,' she said.

He was as wet as she was. His clothes clung to every tough inch of his big body as he continued to invade her space with more than six feet of aroused male. 'I do,' he said.

'Back up.' She straightened her knocking knees ruthlessly. 'You're crowding me.' Because her voice sounded whispery and weak, she licked her lips and cleared her throat. 'We have a list to make, and if you're not up for it, just say so.'

'Oh, I'm up for it.'

Her gaze jerked to his, but she hadn't been mistaken on the content of that comment, not with his eyes so hot. His hand stroked upward, cupping her jaw; his thumb rasped over her lower lip, which opened slightly as she fought the urge to suck it into her mouth. It was such a shocking yearning, she couldn't believe it. So she bit him instead.