Colton Cowboy Protector. Beth Cornelison

raised a hand. “I hear you. But Jack will be harder to convince.”

      Tracy’s shoulders slumped. “Any advice where to start?”

      Greta twisted her mouth in thought. “Action. You can talk until you are blue in the face and not convince him of anything. Jack is a doer. A man of action. If he sees you treating Seth with kindness and can witness evidence of your respect for his wishes regarding Seth, that will go further than any promises you make him. Laura made promises she didn’t keep. You’ll have to prove yourself to him before he’ll listen to anything you say.”

Chapter 4

      That evening, Jack and Seth walked up to the main house to join Jack’s parents, sister, Ryan and Brett for a family dinner. When she’d called him about coming to dinner, Greta had informed him that Eric, a trauma surgeon in Tulsa, had planned to be there, but had been called to the hospital. Mark had returned to town on business, and Daniel had begged off, claiming he had other mysterious plans.

      Jack had had his fill of socializing for the day, even with his own family, and had been looking forward to a quiet evening with Seth. But his son had overheard the phone call and had bounced on his toes, begging to go. What could he say? Seth loved dinner at the main house, stuffing himself on the home-style foods Maria Sanchez, Abra and Big J’s cook, prepared, and teasing with his uncles and aunt. The family connections were good for Seth, and the balanced meal was a far cry from the Tater Tots and hot dogs Jack had planned to make.

      So here he was, heading back up to his parents’ house with his son chattering animatedly beside him about the snake he’d seen out in the pasture that afternoon.

      “Daniel said it wasn’t the bad kind.” Seth tugged the heavy back door open, his little-boy muscles straining. Jack no longer helped Seth with doors or his shoelaces or buckling his saddle straps—though he did double-check those before he let Seth ride. His boy was old enough to do things for himself and was determined to be self-sufficient. Jack encouraged him to learn ranch chores and be independent but caught himself wondering now and then where his baby boy had gone. Seth was growing up so fast.

      “Some snakes are good, ’cause they eat the mice that get in the barn,” he continued as they strolled through the mudroom and into the family room. “He says Sleekie can’t catch all the critters, so we need some snakes around.”

      “Snakes?” Abra said as they joined the family. Jack’s mother shuddered visibly and turned to speak to the woman next to her. “Vile creatures. Another reason I prefer to stay at the house and avoid the pens.”

      “I’m no fan of snakes myself,” the woman agreed affably.

      Jack recognized the voice and whipped his head toward the female guest. Tracy McCain. His gut rolled. He’d forgotten she was still here. Hadn’t considered that she’d be at the family dinner. He slanted an irritated glance at his sister, and Greta’s returned gaze was triumphant. “Jack, you remember Tracy, right?”

      He clenched his back teeth, tightening his jaw and shoving down the growl of frustration that rose in his throat. “Yeah. I remember her.” He cast a dark look at their guest that let her know exactly how he felt about her interloping.

      “Hi, Tracy!” Seth chirped, peeling away from his father’s side and skipping over to greet Laura’s cousin.

      Laura’s cousin, therefore Seth’s cousin. Hadn’t Jack just thought that family connections were good for Seth? But Tracy’s presence filled him with a sense of foreboding and unease that burrowed deep into his bones. Something about her left him off balance, made his skin feel hot and prickly, as if he’d been out in the sun too long. And the way her pale blue eyes watched him with that fragile, wistful expression fired unwelcome feelings of protectiveness in him. Protectiveness and—he gritted his teeth harder—lust. Yes, damn it. The woman’s ethereal beauty and delicate femininity drew him in and riled his libido like crazy, a complication he didn’t need if he was going to protect his son from her hidden agenda.

      He’d opened his mouth to call Seth back to his side when his son opened his arms and fell against Tracy to give her a hug.

      “Hi, sweetie,” she answered with a warm smile as she returned the embrace. “Good to see you again.”

      Jack’s heartbeat stumbled at Seth’s trusting and loving gesture. Not for the first time, Jack wondered what his son was missing, not having a mother in his life. Abra loved her grandson, but had never been the warm, fuzzy type, even with her own children. Greta spoiled Seth when she was around, but she was such a tomboy, Jack didn’t count her as a mother figure.

      Seth, ever the gregarious soul, beamed up at Tracy and asked, “Do you want to see my pony after supper? His name is Pooh Bear, and he’s all mine!”

      “Pooh Bear? What a wonderful name. It reminds me of the Winnie the Pooh I had when I was little.”

      Seth brightened. “Me, too! That’s why I named him Pooh!”

      “Well, what do you know?” Tracy flashed a grin and combed her fingers through Seth’s wild mane of hair. Seth leaned contentedly into the caress, and Jack could almost imagine him purring like a kitten.

      His son always got his hair cut when Jack did, but in recent weeks, Jack had been too busy with the herd and calving to bother with a haircut. He dragged a hand through his own shaggy mop and tried not to imagine how it would feel to have Tracy’s fingers tangling in his hair or stroking his skin. But his scalp tingled, anyway, with ghost sensations.

      “My grandson is well on his way to being a fine horseman and cowboy, Miss McCain,” Big J said, and flashed a smile that lacked the spark and full-wattage flirtation that was usually part of the old man’s arsenal. Jack gave his father a considering glance and saw other evidence of fatigue. His shoulders were a bit more stooped, his face more lined and his cowboy’s tan seemed a tad washed out. The engagement party had been a massive undertaking, but Jack was surprised by Big J’s apparent post-party fatigue. His father was widely known to be an unstoppable force of nature. Bigger than life and always the last man standing.

      Jack’s puzzling over Big J’s demeanor was sidetracked when Brett strode into the family room rubbing his belly. “Hey, y’all, when do we eat? I’m famished.”

      “After all you ate at the party? Where do you put it, you hog?” Greta gave her brother a playful jab.

      “I can’t help it. I’m a growing boy. Right, Seth?” Brett winked at his nephew, and Seth rolled his eyes.

      “Well, now that we’re all here, shall we go in?” Abra asked with a prim lift to her chin.

      “Go in?” Jack muttered to Brett under his breath.

      “Someone’s been watching too much Downton Abbey,” his brother returned quietly.

      Jack arched an eyebrow. “And how would you know?”

      Brett pulled a face. “I may have watched an episode or two with Greta. She monopolizes the TV in the family room on Sunday nights. The accents the women on that show have are kinda hot.”

      Jack gave his brother a slap on the back and a snort of laughter as he followed his mother, Greta and Tracy into the dining room.

      Speaking of hot... The wispy sundress Tracy had changed into for dinner stopped above her knees and gave a tantalizing view of her slender legs and porcelain shoulders. Jack had the stray thought that Tracy would have to show extreme care with her skin if she went out on the ranch in the scorching June sun. She’d burn quickly and—

      He shook his head. Tracy’s skin and the relative risks of sun exposure for her were not his concern. If he had his way, she’d be long gone from the ranch before the question of sunburn could be an issue for her.

      “Cousin Tracy, you can sit by me!” Seth said, patting the seat of the chair where Jack usually sat. His son blinked up at him. “Is that okay, Daddy?”

      Jack