The Reluctant Texas Rancher. Cathy Thacker Gillen

      “Maybe you should make a list of what needs to be done, and in what order,” he suggested with a faint smile.

      While the women looked on approvingly, he placed a generous serving of tender, juicy beef brisket on his plate.

      Reba passed the heaping bowl of skillet corn, livened up with diced onion and green and red pepper. “Liz can help you with that.”

      Liz knew a bit of ham-handed matchmaking when she saw it. She suppressed a beleaguered sigh while dishing potato salad and coleslaw onto her plate. “I think you should do it, Mom. Since you’re the one running the physical side of the ranch. I’m only here when I can be, to help out.”

      Which wasn’t all that often, given the demands of her law practice.

      Reba disagreed. “I’ve been wanting to pass the responsibility on to you for several years now. And especially now, with my sciatica acting up again … and Travis here to do the heavy labor. It seems like it is finally time for you to take over the reins of the Four Winds.”

      It might seem that way to the other Cartwright women, perhaps, Liz thought with mounting resentment. Not to her.

      Travis arched a brow.

      “You know what to do, Liz,” Reba continued persuasively. “All I’m asking is that you find time to do it.”

      Sidestepping the familiar argument, Liz spread a gingham napkin across her lap. She understood her duty to her family. She just couldn’t do everything they wanted her to, when they wanted it done. “First things first.” Trying not to notice how easily he had made himself at home in such an estrogen-charged environment, she locked eyes with Travis. “I have to clear my belongings out of the homestead so Travis can move in.”

      “YOU DON’T HAVE ANY intention of ever taking over management of this ranch, do you?” Travis murmured, after the meal had been concluded and the two of them had been shooed out of the ranch house and over to the homestead to get the moving done.

      Just go right to the heart of things, why don’t you? Liz thought.

      Hating the way he saw inside her head—zeroing in on what no one else knew, even after all this time—she opened up the bureau drawers and moved her clothing into two open suitcases.

      With her voice as crisp and businesslike as her actions, she continued, “It isn’t necessary right now, since Great-grandma Tillie is still doing the books and the land management, Grandma Faye Elizabeth is doing the majority of the cooking and housekeeping, and my mom is overseeing most of the actual labor.”

      His broad shoulders flexing against the fabric of his twill work shirt, Travis boxed up Liz’s books. He paused to give her a speculative once-over, then moved his gaze to her eyes. “But it will be necessary for you to manage the place eventually….”

      The electricity in the room rose as surely as the intimacy.

      Liz swallowed hard. It was crazy to be so aware of him.

      Knowing he was waiting for her reaction, she admitted grimly, “Or end sixty-three years of Cartwright family tradition and deeply disappoint my mother, grandmother and great-grandmother.”

      Liz accidentally dropped a handful of undies on the floor and bent to pick them up. “Who, by the way, also want me to figure out how to have a baby and begin another generation of Cartwrights, without simultaneously having my heart broken—as all of them did, for one reason or another.”

      His gaze fell to the silk and lace crumpled in her palm. Travis cleared his throat. “Refresh my memory about what went down …”

      “My great-grandmother was widowed when her rodeo clown husband got trampled by a bull. Faye Elizabeth lost her husband to an undiagnosed heart ailment, shortly after they married. And my mother lost my dad in a rockslide when I was just a baby.” Liz sighed. “Legend has it that men who love Cartwright women never last long.”

      Travis scoffed. “Sounds like an old wives’ tale to me.”

      Liz tucked her lingerie into a suitcase. “Or just plain bad luck. Besides, the Cartwright women, who have always bucked tradition and kept their surname, prefer running the ranch themselves, anyway.”

      He smiled. “I can see that.” He walked over to help her zip up the bulging suitcases and stand them on their wheels. “Is that why you started your law practice in Laramie?”

      Liz stripped the mattress and dumped the sheets into a large wicker laundry basket. She reached for a clean set and began making up the bed. Travis leaned in to help.

      “I did that because I didn’t like working for someone else. I worked at a midsize firm in Dallas the first three years out of law school and discovered it wasn’t for me. Too many politics. Too much grunt work. Not enough autonomy.” Trying not to think how intimate a task this could be, Liz tossed him a pillow and a case.

      “What about you?” She remembered the way he had been in high school, all big plans and bigger ambitions. Grinning, she speculated, “I bet you loved life in a large firm.”

      Then realized, too late, she probably shouldn’t have said that.

      After dealing with the pillow, Travis hefted the box of books in his arms. “I enjoyed the competition, the high stakes of all the clients and the cases, until I got pushed out. Then, I have to admit, it wasn’t so fun.”

      She moved ahead of him, holding the door open. “Would you go back to it?”

      He set the box in the back of her SUV. “It might be different at another big firm.”

      She went back to get a suitcase. Travis got the other. “So what you said earlier, about wanting your own ranch …?”

      Their shoulders brushed accidentally as they reached the vehicle, causing Liz to momentarily lose her footing.

      Travis put out a hand to steady her. “That’s still true. I miss ranch life as much as I love the law.”

      She tried not to notice how ruggedly handsome he looked in the warm light of the spring evening.

      They had both grown up so much in the time they had been apart.

      She couldn’t help but admire the man he had become. “So—unlike me—you want to do both,” she ascertained quietly.

      Travis went to help her carry the clothes hanging in the closet. “A lot of Texas attorneys do. Especially in the rural areas.”

      Liz picked up several pairs of custom cowgirl boots and the more sedate heels she wore to court. “Don’t let my family hear you say that. They would use it to put additional pressure on me.”

      He reached over and set a flat-brimmed felt hat on her head. “They’d be right,” he teased, with a confidence that let her know he had been thinking about this. “There are advantages to diversifying.”

      With Travis by her side, Liz made another trip to the SUV. “So where would you do this?” she asked, nearly dropping everything because she was carrying so much. “Here? In Laramie County?”

      Travis draped his load of clothing over the stuff already in the back. With casual gallantry, he helped her with the mass of shoes and boots. The kind of mischief she recalled from their high school days glimmered in his eyes.

      “Worried about a little competition?”

      More like my heart. Although where that thought had come from … Since there was no way she was falling for him again.

      Liz stepped back, aware that one more trip would just about clear out the homestead of her things. “Of course not.” She tossed her hair back with the confident attitude that had gotten her through many a difficult situation. “You’re an oil and gas attorney, interested in big stakes.”

      Wishing she was in one of her business suits instead of laid-back ranch attire of a calico shirt and jeans, she angled a thumb at her chest. “I run a general