The Virgin and Zach Coulter. Lois Faye Dyer

she turned her attention to finishing her dinner and her thoughts to job hunting and considering whether to tweak her résumé.

      But when she turned off the light and settled into her bed later that evening, her last drowsy thought was of Zach’s green eyes smiling down at her.

      Zach didn’t wake until six o’clock the next morning.

      By the time he’d showered, shaved and dressed to head downstairs, his stomach was growling. The aroma of coffee teased his nostrils and he followed it down the hallway.

      “Morning.” He nodded at Cade and Mariah, seated at the heavy wooden table in the far corner of the kitchen. He automatically pulled open the cabinet door above the coffeemaker and took out a mug, only realizing as he filled the cup that he’d remembered where they were kept.

      It had been thirteen years since he’d taken a mug from that cupboard, but somewhere buried deep, the memory had lain dormant till needed.

      The human mind was a weird and wonderful thing, he thought, carrying his steaming mug with him to the table.

      Just as he pulled out a chair and sat, his stomach growled again, this time more loudly.

      “How long since you ate?” Cade asked, his long legs stretched out beneath the table.

      “Yesterday,” Zach said, sipping his coffee.

      “I mean something besides fast food at the airport,” Cade said drily.

      “Ah.” Zach nodded, pursing his lips as he considered. “I think that might have been at a sushi bar in Tokyo.”

      Mariah’s eyes rounded. “How long ago was that?”

      “You know,” Zach confessed, “I’m not sure. What day is this?”

      Cade laughed and Mariah pushed back her chair to stand.

      “I’m making you breakfast,” she announced, crossing the room to pull open the refrigerator door. “How do you feel about steak, eggs, hash browns and toast?”

      “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he told her. “But you don’t have to cook for me. I can do it.”

      She laughed. “We take turns cooking around here so you’ll have your chance. For now, sit, talk to Cade and drink your coffee.”

      “Thanks.” Zach looked at Cade. “I think we should keep her.”

      “I’m keeping her,” Cade told him with a grin. “You’ll have to get your own girl.”

      Zach had a swift mental image of Cynthia Deacon’s face. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said aloud, deciding Cade’s words had only made him think of the pretty blonde because he’d seen her just yesterday. “I stopped at Anderson’s office in town. He wasn’t there, but his secretary gave me a thick envelope and a set of keys. I haven’t opened the envelope yet, but I’m assuming it’s a copy of the will.”

      “Probably,” Cade said. “And the keys must be for the Lodge.”

      “Why am I getting keys to the Lodge?” Zach lifted his cup and sipped, his gaze fastened on his brother’s face, which had gone from relaxed to somber.

      “Because Dad left the Triple C to all of us in equal shares, but he also left an asset to each of us individually,” Cade said. “The Coulter Lodge belongs to you now. You can do anything you want with it.”

      Zach stared at him. “Why did the old man leave me anything?” he said at last. “He hated my guts.”

      Cade sighed and scrubbed his hand down his face. “Yeah, that’s pretty much how I felt when I heard he’d left us the Triple C.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Mariah convinced me the old man had a change of heart. She worked for him and lived here on the ranch for the last several years, took care of him when he got sick. She says he regretted the drinking and everything that came with it. And Wayne says he stopped drinking and became a hermit after we all left.”

      “He stopped drinking?” Zach stared at Cade. “That’s hard to believe.” Although if Wayne Smalley had told Cade that Joseph Coulter had given up alcohol, it was hard to dispute the claim. Zach had known his parents’ friend, and Wayne’s buddies—Asa Kelly and Ben Hol-comb, since he was a child.

      “I know.” Cade nodded in agreement. “But it seems to be true.”

      Zach lifted his mug and realized he’d emptied it. He pushed back his chair and stood, crossing to the counter and the coffeemaker. Beside him, Mariah removed bread from the toaster and proceeded to spread butter on the slices.

      “It’s true.” She glanced sideways at him, her brown gaze level. “I never saw him take a drink in the three-plus years I’ve lived here.”

      “Hmm,” Zach responded noncommittally. He’d worked with men who drank too much and concealed it from most people. Where there was a will, there seemed to always be a way. Nonetheless, Mariah apparently was convinced Joseph Coulter had quit the bottle and if she wanted to believe, who was he to question her conviction?

      “Tell me about the will,” he said as he returned to the table and Cade. “I’ll read the entire document and whatever else Anderson put in the envelope later but for now, give me the Reader’s Digest version.”

      “It’s pretty straightforward,” Cade told him. “Dad left everything he had to the four of us—you, me, Eli and Brodie—except for the cabin and the three acres it sits on. He left that to Mariah.”

      Surprised, Zach’s gaze flicked across the room just as Mariah turned from the stove with a steaming plate of food. She met his gaze calmly as she slid the plate of steak, eggs, hash browns and toast on the tabletop in front of him.

      “Thanks,” he murmured. “Looks great.”

      “You’re welcome.” She smiled and went back to the counter, returning with a carafe of coffee and setting it in the center of the table before slipping back into her chair.

      Zach wasn’t sure how he felt about his grandparents cabin being given away outside the family, but Cade seemed fine with it. He decided to question his brother later, outside Mariah’s hearing.

      “Go on.” He nudged Cade as he cut into the steak and began to eat.

      “As I told you earlier, Dad left each of us individual assets that we solely control. He left me the livestock except for the horses, Eli gets Mom’s studio and the contents and Brodie has the horses. And you got the Lodge.”

      Zach lifted his head, his attention caught. “What horses? Are the Kigers still here?”

      Cade shrugged. “I don’t know—haven’t gone looking for them. Figured I’d leave that for Brodie to find out.”

      “Hard to believe Dad didn’t sell the Kigers,” Zach commented. “Mom loved those mustangs and he got rid of everything she loved when she died.”

      “That’s what I thought,” Cade agreed. “But since I’ve been back, I learned he did several things that didn’t make sense. For instance, he left longhorns in the far pasture. They interbred with Brahma stock and Herefords that probably escaped the lower pastures and climbed into the rough country. We rounded up enough rodeo stock and whitefaces to make a payment on the taxes.”

      “Why didn’t Dad sell them years ago?” Zach asked, puzzled. “It wasn’t like him to let an asset sit idle, especially not cattle.”

      Cade glanced at Mariah, then back at Zach. “Mariah says he was sick for several years before he died. It’s possible he didn’t have the energy to drive them in and brand them.”

      “Hmm.” Zach considered Cade’s words. It was hard to picture his father without the physical strength and energy to run the Triple C. The last time he’d seen Joseph, he was a strong, physically powerful man. He shook off the questions that rose with the thought and looked at his brother. “So tell me the bad