Colton Cowboy Protector. Beth Cornelison

spritzed them all.

      Tracy heard a youthful giggle as Brett spun around with a playful growl. She leaned to her left to see who was behind him and spotted a familiar-looking little boy with a water gun.

      Her heart seized. Seth.

      She gaped at the boy who so obviously resembled his paternal family, and a knot of emotion clogged her throat. Seeing her cousin’s son, her only living family, in the flesh for the first time was no less poignant in this setting than if she’d been greeting him five years ago when he was a newborn in the hospital nursery.

      “All right, pal. You asked for it!” Brett said, sweeping him up and over his shoulder.

      Seth’s laughter rang over the party sounds as Brett took three long steps to the deep end of the swimming pool and tossed his nephew in, clothes and all.

      Tracy gasped and took a step toward the pool, prepared to dive in after Seth if needed. But the little boy broke the surface of the water, still grinning from ear to ear and clutching his water gun. He swam skillfully to the ladder to climb out, calling, “Okay, Uncle Brett, this is war!”

      Brett grinned as his nephew shook his wet hair. “Bring it on, Seth. I’m ready for you, buddy.”

      Seth aimed his gun and blasted Brett and several other guests with a jet of cold water. Tracy bit her bottom lip to cover a smile.

      Abra strode briskly through the French doors, clearly not amused. She clattered out onto the patio, her high heels clicking on the concrete, and gave Brett a stern frown. “The two of you cut that out at once! I’ll not have you ruining Greta’s party,” she said, barely keeping her tone above a hiss. She quickly schooled her face and smiled at her guests. “I’m so sorry for my grandson’s behavior. He can be rather a handful sometimes.”

      Tracy bristled, ready to fly to Seth’s defense, just as Greta touched her arm and spoke to her. “So, Tracy, are you a friend of Mark’s?” She divided a curious look between Tracy and her fiancé.

      Mark shook his head, at the same time that Tracy said, “Um...actually, I’m not here for the party. I came to see Jack. On a personal matter.”

      Greta’s eyes widened, and she sent Ryan a knowing look that said, Well, well...interesting.

      Tracy’s cheeks flamed again, and she cleared her throat. “Could you point me toward him, please?”

      Greta blinked. “You don’t know what he looks like?”

      “Well, no. I mean, based on the Coltons I’ve met so far today, I’m assuming he’s green-eyed, dark-haired and gorgeous, but beyond that...”

      An amused grin tugged the corner of Ryan’s mouth, and he sent a glance around the area, using his advantageous height to see over the heads of the assembled guests. With the glass in his hand, he motioned to the far side of the pool. “That’s him over there, wrapping Seth up in the towel.”

      Tracy turned to look, and her breath caught. The man draping Seth in a beach towel was none other than the cowboy she’d encountered in the foyer. Mr. Tall, Dark and Surly himself.

Chapter 2

      With his gaze, Jack Colton followed the sounds of splashing water and his son’s playful laugh to the swimming pool and cracked a small grin. Seth’s carefree, sometimes mischievous nature reminded him of himself when he was younger, before life, fatherhood and the demands of a large cattle ranch replaced his wild ways with a more responsible attitude. The mirthful sounds were silenced by a rebuke from Jack’s mother, and he tensed.

      Wasn’t it bad enough that Abra was putting on this dog-and-pony show, flaunting Greta’s engagement to the world in order to boost her own social standing? The media was here, for cripes’ sake! Not that Jack wasn’t happy for his sister. Greta’s engagement deserved to be toasted and celebrated. Just not so publicly. This spectacle was an embarrassment.

      Jack strode quickly to the pool to retrieve his son, noting that Brett had been the one egging the boy on. Jack appreciated the rapport his brother had with five-year-old Seth, but not when it led his son down the wrong path...namely one that crossed Abra’s.

      “Seth,” Jack said calmly, but with a tone and volume that brooked no resistance. His son glanced up, and Jack gave a subtle head jerk. As Seth obediently scurried out of the water, Jack turned his gaze to Brett and sent him a false smile. “Thanks.”

      His brother held up both hands, laughing, “He started it.”

      “Yeah, but you’re an adult. Act like one.”

      Brett gave him a who-whizzed-in-your-Wheaties look and turned to join the conversation behind him. No doubt ragging on his grumpy big brother. When had Jack become such a grandpa?

      Jack dragged a hand over his mouth and sighed. He was feeling edgy today, and it wasn’t Brett’s fault. This lavish party—$20,000 for champagne?—chafed his practical business sense. Anything frivolous that ate away the bottom line was a burr under his saddle. This party was the whole prickly bush. Grunting in frustration, he swiped a beach towel off a lounge chair and held it out for Seth.

      “Sorry, Daddy,” Seth said mournfully, his eyes downcast as he slopped over in his wet clothes and shoes.

      “Didn’t I ask you this morning to be on your best behavior?” Squatting, Jack wrapped the towel around him and rubbed an end over his shaggy brown hair.

      “Yes, sir.” Seth lifted a rebellious look. “But this party is so boring! There are no kids to play with and no bouncy castle or games.”

      Jack was bored, too, and eager to get out in the north pasture to check on the most recently born calves. “Tell you what. Go change into dry clothes, behave like the good boy I know you can be for the rest of the party and we’ll get ice cream in town tonight. Deal?”

      Seth’s face brightened. “Two scoops?”

      Jack raised an eyebrow. “A wheeler-dealer like your grandpa, I see.”

      Seth grinned at the comparison. “Pa Pa says, ‘never take the first offer. Always ask for a more better deal.’”

      “Just ‘better.’ Not ‘more better.’”

      Seth wrinkled his nose. “Huh?”

      Inside the house, Seth’s Pa Pa, Big J, gave a bellowing laugh that reached all the way to the pool. Jack shook his head. Seth could do worse than to emulate Big J. Poor grammar aside.

      “Sure. Two scoops. If you eat a good dinner.” Great, now Jack sounded like someone’s mother. Not his mother, though. Abra had never cared whether he ate his vegetables or brushed his teeth. She still barely bothered herself with her children, unless it served her purposes. Case in point, Greta’s engagement party.

      “Excuse me.”

      Jack angled his head to meet the gaze of the woman beside him who’d spoken. He squinted against the bright Oklahoma sun, which backlit her.

      “Are you Jack Colton?” she asked.

      “I am.”

      “May I have a word with you?” Her voice was noticeably thin and unsteady. She cleared her throat and added, “Privately?”

      In his head, Jack groaned. What now?

      He swatted Seth on the bottom. “Go get changed, Spud.”

      With a curious glance at the woman, Seth nodded and squished across the lawn toward the old ranch house.

      Jack pushed to his feet, his knee cracking thanks to an old rodeo injury, and faced the woman at eye level. Well, almost eye level. Though tall for a woman, she was still a good five or six inches shorter than his six foot one. He recognized her as the woman he’d seen earlier lurking in the foyer, practically casing the main house. “And you are...?”