More Than a Rancher. Claire McEwen

felt the nip of jealousy for the second time today and shoved it down hard. “He is a great guy,” Jenna assured her. She walked over to an end table and set her wineglass down. “So let’s go help him out.”

      A blast of cold air preceded Jack into the room as he wrestled with the bags of groceries tucked under his arms. Jenna grabbed a bag stuffed with vegetables right before he dropped it, brought it into the kitchen and set it on the granite countertop.

      As she turned away, she came up against a chest. An intriguingly muscular chest. It was wrapped up like a present in a tight white T-shirt. But instead of a bow, there was a belt with a silver buckle. A picture of a cowboy on a bucking horse was etched into the silver and Jenna stared at it for a split second before a tanned, lean arm reached around her and set a bottle of wine on the counter. “Hey.” It was a low voice, kind of husky, and she finally looked up.

      The owner of the chest, T-shirt, belt buckle and arm took a step back. His skin was olive-toned, and his thick black hair curled over his forehead and down to his collar in the back. Dark brown eyes under black brows studied her face. He smiled and his full lips parted to reveal teeth that were white and just a little crooked.

      “Hey,” she managed to whisper back, and in an attempt not to gape at the tall man who looked as if he’d swaggered straight off the streets of Spain or Italy, she reached out and took the cloth grocery bag from his hand and set it on the counter behind her.

      “I’m Sandro,” he said quietly.

      Of course. Sandro the chef. Couldn’t Samantha have warned her that he was absolutely gorgeous? She was probably so in love with Jack that she hadn’t even noticed. “Stevens. I’m Jenna. I mean...I’m Jenna Stevens.” Her cheeks were on fire and something was wrong with her brain. She stuck out her hand and he took it, wrapping it in his long fingers and giving it a firm shake. “Um, nice to meet you. I’m a friend of Samantha’s. Visiting. From San Francisco.”

      “I see. Well, I hope you’re hungry.”

      “I’m always hungry,” Jenna blurted out. “I mean, I try not to eat too much—I’m a dancer.... You know, dieting and all.” This was ridiculous. Just a scant hour ago she’d given Samantha a speech about how her focus was going to be on her career, and yet now she couldn’t even think straight, or talk, just because of one good-looking guy. Where were Samantha and Jack? This was awkward.

      A noise at the door made her turn in relief but it wasn’t her friends. A boy shouldered in through the kitchen door with a chest cooler clutched in his hands. It looked heavy. “Sandro, you dick! Didn’t you know you could park in the back, right by the door?”

      “Paul! Manners, bro,” the tall man commanded.

      Paul? The boy set the cooler down by the door and turned around. The bright smile Jenna recognized from earlier today lit his face.

      “Jenna!” He bounded toward her and then stopped, as if not sure what to do next.

      Jenna stuck out her hand and he shook it. “Good to see you again, Paul. What are you doing here?”

      “Helping my big brother. The master chef. I was hoping I’d see you!”

      “How the hell do you two know each other?” Sandro’s voice was gruff with suspicion.

      “Manners, bro,” Paul reminded him, and Jenna saw the sassy teenager in him and couldn’t help smiling.

      “We met today, on a dirt road,” she told Sandro. “I had a flat and Paul changed it for me. It was really very kind of him. I’m not sure what I would have done if he hadn’t come along.”

      “Well, nice to know he’s good for something.” There was pride in Sandro’s eyes that belied his belittling comment.

      “You mean besides hauling all your gear? And chopping your vegetables?” Paul was smiling at his big brother’s needling. Clearly these two had a close relationship.

      “Hey, I’m paying you a good wage.”

      Paul sighed. “Yeah, you are, actually. I guess that means I’d better get to work. Great to see you again, Jenna.” He disappeared out the door and Sandro and Jenna watched him go.

      Sandro stood so close that Jenna could feel heat radiating from him. “He’s a nice kid, your brother. I can’t tell you how helpful he was today.”

      “Good.” Sandro looked down at her and she noticed again how full his mouth was and the dark, sooty way his lashes rimmed his eyes. “Though I gotta ask. Paul was down in our southeast pastures all day. It’s the most remote area of our ranch. How’d you end up on a dirt road out there?”

      “You were on a dirt road?” Samantha’s voice came from behind her and Jenna turned to see that her friend and Jack had both entered the room and were staring at her with similar expressions of surprise. “Was this the mishap you mentioned earlier?”

      “Well, yes, but—”

      “Jenna, you could have been lost for days out there!”

      “Well, I wasn’t.” Jenna could feel her face getting hot again. The last thing she wanted was a scolding in front of Sandro, whom she barely knew, and who probably already thought she was nuts after her garbled introduction. He had stepped away and was unpacking groceries directly behind her. She swore she could feel the air move every time he did.

      “How did that happen, anyway, Red?” Jack wasn’t laughing yet, but she could hear it behind his voice.

      “Um...I had a little trouble with the map.”

      “Upside-down again?” Samantha asked.

      There was a snort of barely contained laughter behind her. Jenna glanced back and saw Sandro’s shoulders shaking with mirth.

      “Maybe,” Jenna answered, grinning despite her embarrassment. Samantha knew her too well.

      Sandro walked by her to put a bottle of white wine in the refrigerator, more composed now. “Ah,” he said mildly. “So this is a common problem?”

      “Okay, so I can be a little directionally challenged!” Jenna admitted. “Can we change the subject?”

      “Jenna’s a really great dancer!” Paul was closing the back door behind him with his shoulder, his arms wrapped around a cardboard box. He obviously wasn’t aware that Jenna was already the subject of conversation.

      “And how would you know that?” Sandro turned from the refrigerator and looked from Paul to Jenna, concern etching lines onto his face.

      “She was dancing when I found her.”

      This wasn’t good. Jenna felt a little too fragile to be the butt of all the jokes this evening. “Well, just a moment of practice while I got up the nerve to change my tire.”

      “No, it was awesome. She did these turns and then this shake-and-roll thing.” Paul imitated Jenna’s step so flawlessly that her jaw dropped. He’d imbued those two moves with more grace than she could ever muster.

      “You were dancing in the desert? Instead of changing your tire?” Samantha pulled Jenna into a side hug. “I love you, my friend. But I will never understand you.”

      “Jenna’s a dance teacher.” Paul turned to Sandro, and Jenna could hear the excitement in his voice.

      “Okay, enough.” Sandro’s voice held an authority that Jenna imagined must serve him well in busy restaurant kitchens. “Paul, I’m not paying you to get your groove on. And as much as Jenna’s adventures are entertaining to hear about, I respectfully request that you all leave this kitchen and let us cook you something awe-inspiring.”

      “We’re happy to stay and help prep,” Samantha offered.

      “No, we’re good.” His voice was just a little abrupt.

      Jenna wondered if Samantha and Jack had noticed, but they seemed