A Ranger For Christmas. Stella Bagwell

cacti and thorny chaparrals. The rugged landscape appealed to Sawyer. Almost as much as the woman sitting beside him.

      “Do you have many problems with visitors carving into the saguaros or that sort of thing?”

      “Most of the park visitors understand the rules not to disturb the trees or vegetation. But from time to time there are some who decide it’s more fun to vandalize than to enjoy the beauty of nature.”

      “Same at Dead Horse Ranch. I might as well tell you that it doesn’t bother me to write those kinds of people a ticket.”

      She glanced at him. “It doesn’t bother me, either. Honest mistakes are a different matter. Especially when children make them. But to me, deliberate acts are unpardonable.”

      She sounded as though she could be firm when needed and flexible when the situation warranted. Thank goodness she didn’t sound like one of those gung-ho rangers, who considered themselves more as deputy sheriffs rather than park protectors.

      He glanced out the window just as they passed a site with an elderly man cooking at a built-in grill. “Kind of cold to be cooking breakfast outside this morning,” Sawyer commented. “I take it the park doesn’t have a fire ban on right now.”

      “No. If at all possible, we try to avoid fire bans. Visitors especially enjoy cooking out. And folks from the northern states think this sort of weather is warm.”

      He chuckled. “Right. T-shirts in forty-degree weather. We see the same thing at Dead Horse Ranch,” he said, then glanced in her direction. “Do you live close by? Or do you have a long commute to work?”

      “I live a few miles out of Wickenburg. So the drive isn’t all that bad.”

      He waited with hopes she’d add something more about her personal life. To his disappointment, she remained silent so he asked, “No other rangers from that area to carpool with?”

      “No. What about you?”

      He shook his head. “Not that I know of. Anyway, I’m independent. I like to come and go on my own.”

      She looked at him and smiled and Sawyer decided for the next six months he was going to have a hell of a time trying to keep his mind on his work. There was something totally sexy about the way the corners of her lips tilted upward and her green eyes glimmered like sunlight on the water.

      “Me, too,” she said, then her expression turned thoughtful. “Maybe we have more in common than I first thought.”

      He tried not to grin, but he couldn’t help it. She made him feel very happy that he was a man. And as of this morning, a very lucky man. “Oh, I expect we’re going to discover we have a lot in common, Vivian.”

      The tone of his voice must have given his thoughts away because she suddenly rolled her eyes and focused her attention back to her driving.

      She said, “As long as the hanky-panky isn’t one of the things we have in common, then we’ll get along fine.”

      He laughed. “Oh, Vivian. You’re so prim and pretty.”

      Shaking her head, she said, “And you’re so—ridiculous.”

      “Oh, come on. You know you want to laugh with me. And you know you already like me. Don’t you?”

      He could see the corners of her lips twitching as she fought to hold back a smile.

      “Stop it. Stop it right now,” she ordered in a voice that was more playful than demanding.

      “No. You stop, Viv, right now.”

      Her head jerked in his direction and she frowned at him in stunned fascination. “What?”

      “Back up. To the campsite we just passed on my side. The guy was changing the oil in his truck.”

      “That’s not exactly a crime, Sawyer,” she pointed out.

      “No. But I want to make sure he doesn’t think he’s going to dispose of all that used oil back at the sanitary station.”

      “I hadn’t thought about that,” she admitted. “And I should have. We’ve caught people trying to dump all sorts of environmental hazards into the sewer tank. Hopefully this guy plans to haul the oil to the nearest town and dispose of it properly.”

      “We’re going to make sure he does.”

      Vivian jammed the vehicle in Reverse and slowly backed to the entrance of the campsite.

      “I’ll let you deal with this one,” she said smugly, as the two of them climbed out of the SUV. “You’re the one who spotted it.”

      “Thanks,” he said drily. “I always like to start my day off being a jerk.”

      “Don’t you mean doing your duty?” she asked, as she walked alongside him.

      Sawyer looked at her and chuckled. “Sometimes they’re one and the same.”

      He’d called her Viv. Such a simple little thing that really meant nothing. And yet, here it was nearly three hours later and Vivian still couldn’t quit thinking about the way his shortened use of her name had made her feel. The way he made her feel. It was crazy.

      “Do you always eat like a bird?”

      He was sitting a few feet away from her on a sunbaked boulder just off a hiking trail. Less than three yards in front of them was the edge of a rock bluff overlooking a portion of the lake. It was a beautiful view of the water among the desert hills, and they’d chosen the spot to stop for lunch.

      For the past fifteen minutes Vivian had watched him wolf down two sandwiches, a bag of chips and a banana. Now he was topping it off with a chocolate cupcake with thick confectioner’s icing. As for her, she’d managed to nibble her way through half of a bologna sandwich, but even eating that much food had been a major chore. Being in Sawyer’s company had caused major butterflies in her stomach. At this rate, she’d be skin and bones before Louis came back to work.

      “Normally I have a big appetite. I’m just not hungry for lunch today. Guess I had too much eggs and chorizo for breakfast.”

      “You cook breakfast before you leave for work?”

      No, Vivian rarely cooked anything. Not because she disliked it, but because Reeva, the longtime house cook for Three Rivers Ranch, always kept delicious dishes on the family table. But Vivian wasn’t quite ready to reveal to Sawyer that she and her daughter lived with her mother and brothers on one of the largest ranches in Arizona. He saw her only as a working woman. And for now that was the way Vivian wanted to keep it.

      “I cook whenever the urge hits me.” Which was true enough, she thought.

      “Guess your husband enjoys it whenever you do make his favorite meal.”

      His remark was more than obvious and the idea that he was interested in her marital status was flattering, along with disturbing.

      “I wouldn’t know,” she replied. “I’ve not seen him in more than eleven years.”

      Even though he’d slipped on a pair of aviator sunglasses earlier this morning, she could tell he was staring at her. The idea made her want to jump to her feet. Instead, she wrapped up what was left of her sandwich and stuffed it back into her lunch bucket.

      “I take it he’s an ex-husband.”

      “That’s right,” she said stiffly. “I was married for two years. Long enough to have a daughter.”

      He continued to stare at her and Vivian wondered what he was thinking. Most likely that he wasn’t going to waste his time flirting with a single mother in her midthirties. And he’d be thinking right. She wasn’t in the market for a man. Even if her family was often pushing her to find one.

      Her family couldn’t understand her aversion to getting back into the dating scene. After nearly twelve years of being single, most of them figured