LITMIR.BIZ

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wrinkled her nose. “What have you been doing?”

      “Cleaning out the barn shed. We had too much equipment packed in there.”

      “God. Go take a shower. We have guests.”

      “Jamie will be here a whole week. And she came to see Cole, not us.”

      “I wasn’t thinking only of Jamie but of Shea, too.” Rachel opened the oven and the spicy smell of lasagna filled the kitchen.

      His stomach growled. “What about her?”

      “Cool the attitude. It’s not as if she’s a regular guest,” Rachel said, throwing him an annoyed look while pulling on oven mitts. “She’s going to be at the shelter most of the time and only here to sleep. So if you’re still pissy about me taking her in, get over it.”

      “I don’t care who’s here. I doubt I’ll be around much myself.”

      The sudden hurt in Rachel’s eyes made him look away. She said nothing, but concentrated on taking the steaming dish out of the oven.

      “I’ll go take that shower,” he murmured and kept walking.

      “Jesse?”

      He wanted to ignore her. He wished he hadn’t made that unnecessary crack about not being around. “What do you want, squirt?”

      She didn’t react to the hated childhood nickname. “It’s almost Christmas. You know how much the holidays mean to Mom.”

      “I’m not gonna mess anything up, okay?”

      “Not on purpose you wouldn’t.”

      Sighing, he briefly closed his eyes and rubbed them with the heels of his hand. “What do you want from me, Rachel? I cut down the trees for the living room and the den, strung the lights along the eves. I’m here. I’m participating.”

      Except he wasn’t really here, not emotionally. That’s what Rachel was getting at, even though she managed to give him a small smile. “I know, Jesse. You’ve been great about helping us decorate. You have far more patience than Cole or Trace for that sort of thing.”

      He tugged at a tendril of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “Shower first, then I’ll help set the table.”

      “I have something else I’d rather you do,” she said quickly.

      “What’s that?”

      “Shea is staying in the guest wing. First room on the right. Knock on her door and tell her dinner will be ready in ten.”

      He opened his mouth to refuse, then just nodded. Hell, he didn’t have to be in a hospitable mood to knock on a door.

      “And don’t take no for an answer,” Rachel added, wagging a wooden spoon at him. “I’m holding you responsible.”

      Jesus, his sister could be a pain in the ass. He waved her off, headed out of the kitchen and took the stairs two at a time to the second floor. Voices and laughter came from the den and he thought about yanking Trace away to go get the woman. But that wouldn’t be fair. Besides, once he showed his face he’d have to acknowledge Jamie, then make small talk.

      It wasn’t that he didn’t like Cole’s girlfriend—he did. He was glad they’d hooked up. His brother couldn’t have done better. But there would be enough time for socializing at dinner. The forty minutes of mindless pleasantries seemed to be as much as Jesse could handle lately.

      He’d peeled off his clothes, showered and shampooed in nine minutes, then stood at the woman’s door, trying like hell to recall her name. Didn’t matter. Basically, he was only delivering a message.

      She answered his knock immediately, warily pulling open the door a few inches and regarding him with surprised gray-blue eyes. She blinked, did a quick survey of his flannel shirt and jeans, then met his eyes again. “Oh, it’s you.”

      “Um…” He stepped back. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

      Blinking again, she opened the door a little more, enough for him to see that she also wore jeans and that her feet were bare. “I saw you earlier.” She moved the long bangs away from her eyes. “Are you Rachel’s brother?”

      Jesse nodded and almost smiled at the trim woman. Straight off, there was something different about her. Unlike so many of the females who’d been guests at the ranch, she hadn’t been artful or flirty with her hair, she’d just shoved it out of the way. “Dinner’s ready,” he said, disengaging from her forthright stare to get a better look.

      Shea held herself tall even though she wasn’t. He’d guess five-six? A little thin, but no big deal. While her body was pleasant, he was drawn back to her face, her unusual eyes with their dark lashes. He liked that she had full lips but didn’t wear a hint of lipstick on them. He might not mind the look of the gloss, but he’d never liked the taste.

      “Uh,” she said, shaking her head, her straight light brown hair swinging from side to side and bringing him back to the conversation. “I’m not eating with you.”

      He didn’t know what to say at first and just stared as she pressed her lips together, making one cheek dimple. “Should I take this personally?”

      “No,” she said matter-of-factly. “I promised Rachel I wouldn’t be any trouble. I have some cheese crackers here.…” A slight frown puckered her brows. “There’s no rule against eating in the rooms, is there?”

      “I doubt it.” Jesse laughed. “Look, Rachel made lasagna. If you don’t come down, she’ll be charging up to get you. Not to mention I’ll get chewed out.”

      “Hmm, this is a bit awkward,” she said, with a frank unwavering gaze he found intriguing. “Honestly, I didn’t think this would be an issue.”

      He moved farther back to give her space. “For now how about coming downstairs with me? I can smell the lasagna from here.”

      She sniffed, and her stomach growled loudly. She glanced down with annoyance and pressed a hand to her flat belly. “I haven’t had home cooking in a long time, and you’re right, it smells heavenly.”

      “My sister can be a pain in the neck, but I’ll admit, the woman can cook.”

      She flashed him a quick smile. “I’m Shea, by the way. Did you tell me your name?”

      He shrugged. “It’s Jesse.”

      “Pleased to meet you, Jesse.” She offered her hand in an unexpected businesslike manner.

      “Likewise.” He liked her firm grip, the softness of her palm pressed against his. “I hear Rachel rounding up everyone.”

      “What?”

      “I think dinner is on the table.”

      “Okay.” She released his hand and dragged her palm down the front of her jeans. She slipped through the doorway into the hall, still barefoot.

      “No one will care whether you’re wearing shoes or not, but you should know we have wood floors downstairs.”

      Shea looked down. “Oh.” She grinned and wiggled her toes. When she lifted her gaze, her cheeks were slightly flushed, making her eyes seem a little bluer. “I forgot. You go ahead if you want. I’ll be right there.”

      He watched her disappear into her room but didn’t move except to fold his arms across his chest, lean against the wall and wait. The irony of him being the one Rachel sent as the family’s goodwill ambassador wasn’t lost on him. He of all people couldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to sit around with a bunch of strangers and he’d be the last person coaxing someone to the table.

      Yeah, he’d considered backing off, letting her eat her crackers in peace. But he didn’t think Shea’s reluctance was due to shyness or anything other than genuinely not wanting to intrude. What a change from most of the guests who’d come to stay since

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