The Rancher's Unexpected Family. Helen Lacey

be honest, he wasn’t even sure how he’d react if she actually did call him Dad.

      He concentrated on the drive and glanced to the right, at the sign welcoming them to town. Cedar River, South Dakota—population, three thousand and something. A speck on the map that sat in the shadow of the Black Hills. It was where he’d be staying for the next few weeks—a world away from Phoenix and the life he had there.

      But he had to do it. For Maisy’s sake. The last few months had been hard on them both. She didn’t want to be with him, she didn’t want anything to do with him or his folks or either of his younger sisters. And since the alternative was foster care, Cole knew this might be the only chance he had of truly connecting with his daughter. When his lawyer and friend, Joel, had suggested it, he’d resisted the idea. He wasn’t a small-town kind of person. He had lived most of his life in Phoenix, Arizona, although he’d traveled the country extensively when he was competing on the NASCAR circuit. But now that he was retired from racing and managing his family-owned race team, Cole spent the majority of the year in his city apartment in Phoenix.

      And this, he thought as he drove through Cedar River, with its one traffic light, wide wooden-planked sidewalks and mix of old and new storefronts, was not any kind of big city.

      He checked the GPS and took a left turn, crossing the river over a long bridge that took them east, with another five miles to travel. When the electronic voice from the GPS told him they had arrived at their destination, Cole turned right and went through a pair of wide, whitewashed gates. He looked down the long gravel driveway and spotted a ranch house in the distance. There were several other buildings dotted around the house, most of them smaller except for the huge red barn with a white roof that stood out like a beacon beneath the glow of the midmorning sun. Several horses and about a dozen head of cattle were grazing in the pasture, and he spotted a couple of dogs roaming around the ranch house.

      “We’re here,” he said, to himself more than anything, because his daughter hadn’t spared him more than a surly glance for the last thirty miles.

      Ignoring the heavy knot of tension in his gut, Cole pressed on the gas and headed down the driveway. He parked several yards from the main house and turned off the ignition, then unclipped his seat belt and turned toward his daughter.

      “Maisy?” He waited for a reply.

      After a moment she removed the earbuds and raised a bored eyebrow. “What?”

      “We’re here,” he said again and nodded toward the windshield.

      She glanced around and then shrugged. “Lucky me.”

      Cole fought the irritation climbing over his skin. He looked out the window and realized the place seemed deserted. Only the two large brown dogs were moving around the yard, circling the car warily. Great...maybe they were attack dogs. “Stay here,” he instructed and grasped the door handle. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

      She shrugged with a kind of disinterest he was becoming used to and popped the buds back into her ears. Cole looked at her and sighed as he got out of the car. One of the dogs barked as he closed the door and he took a couple of wary steps toward the house. He could hear music coming from the direction of the barn and then headed that way, watching as the dogs continued to circle around him as he walked. When he reached the barn he noticed how the hounds remained on either side of the door, as though they were standing on point and had been well trained to do so. The music was pure country and exactly what he’d expect to hear on a ranch on the outskirts of a town like Cedar River.

      “Hello?” he said and walked through the wide doors.

      He spotted an old truck in the corner, propped up on a set of jacks. Then he saw a pair of legs sticking out from beneath the tray, clad in jeans and attached to a set of curvy hips and then a bare, smooth belly peeking out of a grease-splattered T-shirt that was riding up over a taut set of abs. Cole came to an abrupt stop and stared at the shapely female form beneath the truck. His insides twitched with a kind instinctive reaction he suspected was wildly inappropriate, since he didn’t have a clue who she was. But still, he let his gaze linger for a moment, before clearing his throat and saying hello again.

      Then he heard a clang, a curse and then the hips shimmied across the ground and a woman sprang to her feet in front of him. The first things he noticed were her bright green eyes and thick red hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. His gaze traveled down her throat, her full breasts, her small waist and finally to her booted feet.

      “Hey,” she said loudly and clearly, so she could be heard above the music as she tugged down her T-shirt. “My face is up here!”

      Heat smacked Cole squarely in his cheeks and he met her gaze instantly. She was younger than him, maybe around thirty, and was effortlessly pretty. There was a smear of grease on her forehead and another on her chin, but it did nothing to quell the instant and blisteringly hot attraction he experienced, like a bolt of lightning that came out of nowhere. Her green eyes glared at him and he bit back a grin. Feisty redheads weren’t on his radar, not when he had more important things to worry about.

      “My apologies,” he said and kept his eyes locked with hers. “When I walked in here I didn’t expect to find someone like you underneath the truck.”

      “Someone like me?” she queried, and regarded him as though he was a chauvinistic jerk who belonged in a cave. “Do you think women should stay in the kitchen and out of the garage?” she asked, and wiped her hands down her jeans, then turned off the radio.

      “Not at all,” Cole replied, his gaze unwavering. “I think it’s helpful to be good at most things.”

      Her brows rose steeply. “And are you?”

      “Good at most things?” He shrugged loosely. “Like most men I’d probably like to think so.”

      She laughed and the sound hit him directly in the middle of his chest. Then she held out her hand before he had a chance to speak. “You must be Mr. Quartermaine. I’m Ash McCune.”

      She’s Ash McCune...

      And not what he had been expecting. Joel had neglected to say how young and attractive his cousin was. Cole knew very little about her, other than the fact she was a police officer, a single mom and had been a foster mother to many kids during the past few years. Which is why he’d brought Maisy to her South Dakota ranch. He needed help with his daughter. And Joel had insisted that Ash McCune was exactly the lifeline he needed.

      The moment their fingertips met, heat immediately shot up his arm. “Please, call me Cole.”

      “Sure,” she said and removed her hand. “You’re early. I wasn’t expecting you until late this afternoon.”

      “Our flight was canceled and we had to switch to an earlier one. Is that a problem?”

      She shrugged. “No problem. I just need some time to finish getting your cabin ready.”

      Awkwardness twitched between his shoulders. “I guess I should have called.”

      She shrugged again. “Like I said, no problem. I trust Joel explained our situation here?”

      Cole’s mouth twisted. “Actually, he was pretty vague about everything, other than the fact you graciously agree to allow Maisy and I to stay here for a few weeks.”

      “Maisy? That’s your daughter?”

      “Yes.”

      She nodded. “And she’s fourteen?”

      “She had a birthday last month,” he replied.

      “Does she know why she’s here?”

      Cole sighed. “She knows. And she’s not happy about it.”

      Ash McCune’s vibrant green eyes widened. “For the record, by the time they get here, most of the kids are resistant to the idea. And it usually works out.”

      “Usually?”

      “Helping