“Long day on my feet. But it’s over now. So what’s up with Brea?”

Jolene took another long drink before setting her bottle down. “She has the major hots for Gage Reilly.”

Valerie’s brows rose. “Really. Good choice. Great ass.”

Brea laughed. “I think so. But we’re not exactly . . . compatible.”

“Why do you say that?” Jolene asked. “He’s hot, you’re hot. He’s a man, you’re a woman. Sounds pretty compatible to me.”

“He’s more than just a man. He’s way out of my league.”

“And you, my younger sister, underestimate your value. You always have,” Valerie said, pointing the tip of her bottle of beer toward Brea. “You’re stunningly beautiful, especially now that you’ve cleared that bird’s nest of hair away and got your eyebrows mowed. You have the sexiest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. And with your hair cut like that . . . you look like Mom.”

Brea’s heart tumbled. “Really? You think I look like Mom?”

“You’ve always looked like her. More so than either Valerie or me,” Jolene said. “Same color hair. And you have her eyes.”

Brea’s eyes welled up with tears. “Mom was beautiful.”

“And so are you,” Valerie said.

“I don’t know about that. I’ve always thought myself a bit plain . . . and on the chubby side.”

Jolene snorted. “Please. You have a woman’s body. Beautiful curves. I’d kill for long legs like yours. Don’t you see how the guys around here look at you when you walk by?”

“Uh . . . no.”

“Maybe you need to stop staring at the ground and lift your head up, Brea,” Valerie said. “Men are looking.”

“Gage is looking,” Jolene added.

Her gaze whipped to Jolene. “He is?”

“Hell yes he is. Pull your head out of your ass and pay attention.”

two

brea thought about everything her sisters had said. She’d thought about it well into the night as she sat downstairs in the living room reading after everyone had gone to the bar in town. She’d begged off, claiming a headache. She had some thinking to do about herself. About men.

She hadn’t been paying attention. Or looking at the guys who allegedly had been looking at her. Had some of the men on this ranch been watching her? She found that so hard to believe. But maybe she shouldn’t. Maybe it was time to start believing in herself.

A very hard thing to do when every time she looked in the mirror she still saw the gawky, chubby girl who just wasn’t pretty. You hear that enough times, you get shot down by men enough times, you start to believe that maybe you just aren’t worthy. She wasn’t strong enough to build herself up. Which was why it was so much easier to imagine herself the lithe, strong, smart, capable heroines in the romance novels she read. She could put herself in their places, live their lives, fall in love with their incredibly romantic heroes who would sweep them off their feet and love them no matter what. And not once in those books did the hero tell the heroine he’d totally fall for her if she could lose ten pounds.

And even if she did find the guys approachable, would it make any difference? She’d gone the sex route before and found it decidedly lacking. Or rather, found herself decidedly lacking. She was afraid she’d set herself up by romanticizing sex the way it was in the books she read. And sex just wasn’t that good in person. Not the sex she’d had, anyway.

Too restless to read, she stood and stretched, then noticed a light on at the bunkhouse. She was surprised, since she’d seen everyone pile into the trucks and take off for town. She wouldn’t mind a little company. Maybe Grizz had stayed behind and she could talk him into a game of gin. He often didn’t go into town with everyone.

She headed down the walk toward the bunkhouse, breathing in the night air, the smell of hay and cattle and horses. Not unpleasant smells at all to her, since they all signaled spring settling in. She knocked on the bunkhouse door, but no one answered. Maybe no one was there at all, and they’d just left the light on. She tried the door, and it was unlocked, so she opened it, thinking she’d find it empty.

Music was playing, loud, coming from one of the other rooms.

“Anyone here?” she yelled. “Door was open.”

She moved in farther, shaking her head at the disarray. Cowboys definitely lived here. Scattered boots all over the floor, dishes left on the tables in the living room, beer and pop cans littering every available surface. Brea knew Grizz would get after the guys about once a week to clean the place up, and they’d do their housecleaning, but other than that, they mainly lived like pigs. It was like a dorm, and some of the cowboys who didn’t have their own place or lived farther out of town were welcome to stay here.

She started picking up a few cans since she didn’t have anything better to do and figured the place was empty. When the call came to load up the trucks and head into town, you either hustled or got left behind. Chances were the last one out the door hadn’t turned off the stereo and lights. She’d get those on her way out. She had her arms full of beer cans and was headed into the kitchen when she heard someone whistling. She stopped and pivoted.

“Brea. What are you doing here?”

Her breath caught and she nearly dropped the armful of aluminum she carried.

It was Gage, fresh from a shower, his hair damp and curling around his neck, his body still dripping, and a towel balanced on his hips. Broad shoulders, wide, ripped chest devoid of any hair. Washboard abs, slim h*ps and, dammit, even his feet were sexy.

The rest of him she couldn’t see under the towel he wore. Which was all he wore except for a damn sexy smile as his lips curled.

Brea’s heart kicked up about twenty notches and she fought to swallow. “I knocked. Didn’t think anyone was here. I’m so sorry.” Her face flamed with heat. She was so not pretty when she blushed.

“Don’t be. Why are you cleaning up?”

She shifted her gaze away from his taut, flat abs to the beer cans in her arms. “Oh. Uh, well I saw them lying around.”

“Drop them. You’re nobody’s maid.”

Grateful to tear herself away from his killer body, she turned and headed into the kitchen. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll just throw these away.” And then try to crawl out of here with my dignity intact. And without looking at you again.

Because it was possible if she got another look at him she might want to pull that knot out of his towel and see the rest of him. Arousal flared in her, making her breathing difficult.

“So,” he said, seemingly unconcerned that he was practically na**d, “why did you come over here?”

It was probably stupid to keep her back turned to him. She spun around to face him. “I . . . I saw a light on here. I thought Grizz had stayed behind, so I was going to see if he’d like to play some gin.”

He folded his arms over his chest, which only served to showcase his mighty fine guns. Damn, he had nice muscles. “Grizz decided to party it up some tonight with everyone else. Why didn’t you go?”

She shrugged. “I had some reading to do.”

“Reading, huh? What kind of reading?”

Her eyes drifted closed for a second then opened again. Might as well end this now. She lifted her gaze to his. “Romance novels.”

“Oh yeah? I like horror myself. The bloodier the better.”

What? No making fun of her reading tastes? No crack about romance novels being fluff? What the hell was the matter with this guy? “I’ve read some horror, too. I read a lot.”

“I do, too, when I have some time and can get away from the constant noise around here. It’s hard to concentrate when half the guys around here think this is a party house.”

She laughed, then found herself relaxing. “I can imagine. I like a quiet place to read.”

“Me, too. Sometimes I take my horse out to one of the pastures to read on the weekends.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea. No one can disturb you out there.” She couldn’t believe she was having a conversation about books with one of the sexiest cowboys on the ranch. She was probably dreaming this, but what the hell.

He moved toward her, and her muscles tensed again.

“Why didn’t you go into town tonight?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Not in the mood to party.”

She couldn’t figure him out. Not at all. He was damn fine looking, could probably have his choice of any woman in town. They’d be all over a hot guy like Gage. And he preferred staying home alone? He was like . . . her. That made no sense at all.

“So what else do you like to do for fun besides reading, Brea?”

“Uh, um, not much, really.” She took a step back, then hit the wall. She would look like an obvious coward if she moved around it, so she stayed put and watched him advance on her.

“That’s all you do? Just work, and read?”

“Yes. Yeah. Pretty much.”

He stopped in front of her, only an inch or so separating them. Any other guy invading her personal space like this would piss her off. With Gage, though, she wanted him closer. She wanted his body pressed full-on against her. God, he smelled so good. Like soap and something indescribable. Earthy and sexy and oh man she wanted to lick that spot on his neck where water dripped from his hair, coating his skin with droplets of moisture. She licked her lips and focused on his face instead. But then she got lost in his eyes—deep blue like an ocean, fringed with long black lashes that were almost too pretty for a man. Almost, but not quite.

Okay, Brea, stop ogling and say something intelligent.

“Um, what do you do, Gage?”

He searched her face, and he wasn’t smiling now. “I train horses. I ride. I read. I like to go to town now and then. I like to go to movies sometimes. I like museums.”

She cocked her head to the side. “You like museums?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

He laughed. “You think it’s odd that a cowboy would go to a museum?”

“No. Yes.” She frowned, shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe. You confuse the hell out of me, Gage. I don’t know what I’m saying. I should go.”

“Why do you want to go, Brea? Do I make you uncomfortable?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“Good uncomfortable or bad uncomfortable?”

His question made her pause. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

gage watched the stream of reactions cross brea’s face. She might try to hide what she felt, but her expressions told him everything. Which was a damn good thing, because what she said confused the hell out of him. Her body said one thing, while her mouth said something else entirely.

And his body’s reaction to finding her in the bunkhouse while he’d just been in the shower thinking about her—getting hard thinking about her—now that was a bonus. Hell, he’d been getting hard thinking about her since the day she’d stepped foot on the Bar M wearing her quirky skirts and sandals, trying to hide behind all that hair. He’d thought her sexy and mysterious then. When she’d gone into Tulsa with Jolene and come back looking like a goddamn fashion model, he’d just about swallowed his tongue. No matter how she dressed and how she wore her hair, Brea was beautiful. It was in her eyes—a mysterious chocolate brown that couldn’t hide her thoughts or reactions.

And the flimsy towel he wore did nothing to disguise his reaction to her. Good thing she seemed too preoccupied to notice the nice tent the towel made in the vicinity of his dick. He liked talking to her, liked her being here with him, and he didn’t want to scare her away with his raging hard-on.

The last thing he’d ever do was push a woman into doing something she didn’t want to do. He liked his women willing. So if Brea was throwing off mixed signals, he’d just as soon step away. The thing was, he didn’t think he’d read her wrong out at the barn today, or even the last couple weeks since she’d arrived at the ranch. She’d tossed enough glances his way that let him know she was damn well interested. That’s why he always zeroed in on her eyes—the ones that always seemed to be glancing his way. A man would have to be dead or disinterested not to notice. And he sure as hell wasn’t dead or disinterested.

It was just getting her to admit her interest that might be tough.

Then again, she might want him to take charge. And yeah, he liked being in control, so if that’s what she wanted—as long as he was damn sure that’s what she wanted—he was all over it.

“Tell me what I do to make you uncomfortable.”

He liked the way she blushed. It was sweet, innocent, and a lot of the women he’d been with had long ago forgotten how to blush—over anything.

“I . . . You’re very direct, aren’t you?” She cast her gaze somewhere over his left shoulder. He tipped her chin and put it back on his face.

“Yeah, I am. I don’t think there should be any misunderstanding between a man and a woman. If you’re honest with each other up front, then there’s no disappointment later on.”

“I guess you’re right about that. Most men I’ve known haven’t been very honest.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Honest about what?”

“Anything. Everything. What they want, how they feel, what they’re thinking about. They’ve all been one great big mystery I’ve never been able to figure out.”

And probably all jerkwads, too. “You’ll find out real fast I’m not a mystery, Brea. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, and I’ll be honest with you.”