“Hey, cuz.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.” Travis’s slow drawl rose a notch in volume to carry over the background noise of a tractor. “I need this so goddamn much, you wouldn’t believe it.”

Shit. Right there, Gabe’s initial intent to beg off their previous arrangement was hog-tied, unless he could convince his cousin to delay for a few nights. “You sure you’re up for it? After spending the day seeding maybe you should make it an early evening.”

Travis swore loudly and creatively before switching to less volatile words. “What kind of pansy-assed comment is that? Sure, I’ll just have a cup of tea and knit some doilies for you to shove up your ass. If you don’t want to come along then bloody well say so and I’ll go alone, but—”

“No, it’s not that. I’m coming with you. We made a deal, remember?” Of all the lousy timing. Now he had to abandon Allison for the evening, although…maybe giving her a little more space would be for the best. They could talk over supper, then she’d have all night to figure out exactly what she wanted. Only one fire to avoid—making sure Travis didn’t see any signs of her until that final decision had been made. “I’m driving though. Where you want me to nab you?”

“Pick me up at my trailer. Jackass.”

Gabe laughed in spite of himself. “Asshole.”

Travis hung up, and Gabe shoved his phone into his pocket, recovered the pliers he’d dropped and got back to the fence post. If he used a little more force than necessary, he figured no one was there to complain.

With a shitload of Colemans in the community, there was always someone to hang out with, to shoot the breeze or get pissed with when needed. At eighteen Gabe’s brother Rafe was the youngest, but there were cousins all over the age range. They fought and supported each other in turn, with only a few situations that required peacekeeping to keep fists from flying.

Family, the kind that supported you in the tough moments and made you so bloody mad at times you couldn’t see straight. They had it all in the extended Coleman clan.

He’d be pulling a fast one on this close-knit group if he and Allison went ahead with the ploy. What would the extended clan think when the truth came out?

It only took a moment before he laughed out loud. Honestly? It would be like every other situation that had ever gone down. Some folks would be upset, some would think it was the best joke ever. The improvements to the ranch would be the most talked-about part, as well as the final results with Allison’s mom.

It was like a light bulb went off. His family, other than his father, would want him to make up his own damn mind and not base his decision on getting anyone’s approval. And it wasn’t as if he did anything to try to impress his father—at least not for years. The only reason he and Ben didn’t come to blows more often was out of consideration for Dana. Gabe didn’t want his ma hurt, or Rafe, and nothing in helping Allison would ultimately harm either of the two most important people in his life.

His father? Who gave a shit what the bastard thought?

Gabe looked over the fields, the familiar and comforting land he’d grown to love. He’d figured that a little time out here was what he needed to clear his head and get a straight focus on what was key. He had his answer to part of his dilemma.

If Allison still wanted his help, he was in.

What to do about the potential sexual situation between them? Well, that was an issue he would deal with as it arrived. If it arrived. Maybe they’d be so busy with other things that the attraction between them wouldn’t even come up.

Gabe pulled himself onto Hurricane’s back and ignored the taunting voice in his head that called bullshit.


For the second time in less than twelve hours Allison woke in Gabe’s bed. It wasn’t the scent of coffee teasing her senses as a wakeup call, but something savoury and rich. The sound of running water registered as well, and she sat up and stretched before looking around for the source.

Holy moly. She shouldn’t have been so curious. Allison averted her gaze, but not before she’d gotten an eyeful.

The bathroom was off to her right. There was no door but instead an open archway revealed a long counter with a sink and a glass enclosure housing the shower. Which meant nothing but slightly foggy glass stood between her and a very naked Gabe. She was positive she’d spotted soap bubbles clinging to his body.

The urge to take a second peek and double-check the entire firm package rushed her, and she squirmed off the bed and fled into the living room.

Oh boy.

Sadness, a sense of loss, anxiety for her family. Those were supposed to be her concerns. Not the rush of sexual attraction that jumped her, or the tingling in her core that had nothing to do with being tired, hungry or worried. Had everything to do with what the pretence of having Gabe as a fiancé meant in a physical sense.

Maybe she was stupid, but until now? It hadn’t even registered. She’d concentrated on her mother, on how to deal with her siblings. On who would be the perfect person to ask to join her in the fake engagement. She hadn’t even once considered the physical attraction between them. She’d been so focused on their common interest in organics that the sensual longings he’d caused without even trying when they’d gone out for lunch so long ago? She’d totally forgotten that part.

She was remembering rather strongly now and feeling stupider than ever for not having taken sex into consideration. And pondering questions, like did she really expect him to be a monk—did she really want him to be a monk?—during the entire time they were acting, didn’t make anything easier.

Allison turned to the kitchen counter and ignored the bit inside calling herself a coward for closing her eyes to the issue. Instead, she stirred the stew in the Crock-Pot, breathed deeply and enjoyed the aroma.

To keep her hands busy and distract her mind from everything—her mom, her job, the gratuitous images of a naked Gabe that kept leaping to mind—she opened cupboards and drawers until she’d managed to set the table.

Might as well make a few assumptions and make herself at home. Because after the extra sleep, she still didn’t see any better solution than the one she’d come up with in the first place.

She was in the middle of transferring bread onto a plate to go with the stew when he stepped into the room. His hair was tousled and damp. Wearing a tight black T-shirt and faded blue jeans, Gabe was the epitome of the classic Canadian cowboy.

Wranglers never had a representative like this one, but could they ever have used him.

“You find everything okay?” He opened the fridge door and pulled out a water jug he deposited on the table.

Allison swallowed to find enough moisture to de-stick her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “I hope you didn’t mind me getting things ready.”

He shook his head. “It’s a kitchen. I figure you know your way around one.”

She froze in the middle of pouring pickles into a serving bowl. “Gabe Coleman, did you just make a macho-asshole comment about women and kitchens?”

He blinked in confusion. A moment later that addictive chuckle of his flitted across the room, only this time instead of turning her on it pissed her off that he wasn’t taking her seriously.

Gabe reached over and captured the pickle jar, the one she’d considered throwing at his head. “Allison, your family owns a restaurant. That’s all I’m referring to. You sure you got enough sleep to be using the dangerous weapons in here? Like the serving spoons and butter knives?”

He winked, and the rush of anger that had struck waned to be instantly replaced with blushing guilt. “Damn it, I’m sorry. I’m still wound up, and just assumed.”

Gabe caught her by the shoulders and tugged her close, squeezing so tight she could barely breathe. The embrace offered security and acceptance, and was so totally non-sexual nothing stopped her from soaking in the comfort he offered.

Then as quick as he’d begun, he released her, patted her shoulder and directed her to one of the chairs. He settled on the opposite side of the table and opened the steaming Crock-Pot.

“Want a scoop?”

Allison held up her bowl as he ladled in the meaty concoction. He served himself about three times as much, buttered a couple slices of bread then started eating. She would have been more embarrassed about diving in without small talk if her stomach hadn’t chosen that moment to grumble loudly.

Gabe laughed. “Your body’s still complaining about you mistreating it the past couple days. Eat—there’s plenty.”

It felt like only a few minutes later before she was licking the sauce off her spoon to get at the final drops. “My compliments to the chef.”

“High praise from someone who knows food. Thank you. I don’t starve.” His pleased expression faded rapidly into something unreadable.

“What’s the extra seasoning you put in there? Can’t be fresh thyme, not yet. Savoury? Basil?”

“Not completely sure—my ma makes these ice-cube things with the herbs when they’re fresh. Mixes them in the blender with a little oil, then she shoves a Ziploc bag of them into my freezer. You’ll have to ask her the secret ingredients. All I know is I toss one in the crock, or the soup pot, and suddenly I’ve got all my cousins clamouring for me to bring over my leftovers.”

The setting and the conversation were comfortable and inconsequential. They both knew they were holding off the real discussion that needed to take place. Allison gathered her courage before it could escape again.

“Gabe?”

“Yeah?”

She stared at his face, gazing into his dark eyes, searching his expression for a hint of what his answer would be. “I’ve had a nap. I’ve thought it through some more. It might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever suggested, but I can’t for the life of me see another way to do this.”

Gabe sighed. “Then I won’t try to convince you otherwise. Nothing I’d hate more than for you to carry regrets regarding your mom’s final days.”

Something inside her chest jerked, or maybe it was in her stomach. “You’ll do it?”

He took her hand in his, strong fingers twisting around hers and holding on tight. “We’ll do it. This entire crazy idea’s got to be you and me together for it to work. Don’t think for a minute that this is you alone, because that’s not what I’m signing up for.”

“You’re signing up for the help I can give the ranch…”

The increased pressure on her fingers made the words trickle away. “I’ll admit I’m damn hopeful your information can make a difference. But the ranch will be here for a long time. Your mom takes priority, you understand?”

The part of her that had worried how she would juggle everything eased a tiny bit. “Making sure my mom doesn’t know it’s a sham comes first. I swear I’ll try not to drag this out any longer than we have to, but—”

His thumb rubbed over her knuckles soothingly. “You’re getting yourself back into a flap. Slow down, we’ll deal with that issue in a minute. There are a few big-picture things we need to discuss first.”

She could have sworn he swallowed hard, but that wasn’t the in-control and steady man she knew.

“Where you planning on staying?”

Finally something she had an answer for. “I’ll move back in with the family.”

“Like hell.”

She stiffened even though he’d said it softly. “Gabe?”

He shook his head. “No one is going to buy we’re getting hitched if you do that. If you’re all fired up about moving back to Rocky to be with me, tell me why you’d stay anywhere but in my place?”

Allison flushed. “Old-fashioned?”

He raised a brow but didn’t say anything.

“I don’t want to put you out more than necessary.”

“And I’m saying if you want this to work you’re moving in here. You’ll spend your days at the restaurant, and we’ll make sure you see as much of your mom and family as possible, but you sleep nights here. You and me need to keep in touch and…” Gabe sighed, reaching across the table to stroke her cheek softly. “And you’re going to need a place to hide out. This is it. What about when you have tough moments and need to cry, or scream, or to beat the hell out of something? You can’t do that at your mom’s house.”

The sheer magnitude of what they were undertaking started to register. “Do you think I’m wrong for doing this?”

Gabe shrugged. “That’s the kicker. I don’t know, which is why I ain’t trying to talk you out of it.”