On a Snowy Christmas Night. Debbi Rawlins

ahead if you want. I’ll be right there.”

      He watched her disappear into her room but didn’t move except to fold his arms across his chest, lean against the wall and wait. The irony of him being the one Rachel sent as the family’s goodwill ambassador wasn’t lost on him. He of all people couldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to sit around with a bunch of strangers and he’d be the last person coaxing someone to the table.

      Yeah, he’d considered backing off, letting her eat her crackers in peace. But he didn’t think Shea’s reluctance was due to shyness or anything other than genuinely not wanting to intrude. What a change from most of the guests who’d come to stay since Rachel started the dude ranch six months ago.

      Some of those women had been something else. Even Trace, who was quite the Casanova, had started complaining about finding them under every rock. Not that it mattered to Jesse. He’d usher Shea downstairs and that would be it. If he had a rescue to deliver, maybe he’d see her at the shelter. And if not, that was fine, too.

       3

      WHEN SHEA SAW all the people sitting at the large dining-room table she wanted to turn around and run. Of course the whole family would be here. What was she thinking agreeing to have dinner with them? She’d let her empty tummy sway her.

      “Here, Shea.” Rachel pulled out a chair. “Sit next to me. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

      They were all looking at her with friendly expressions but that didn’t help. Her pulse had already started racing, her legs felt leaden and stiff and she was pretty much stuck because she doubted she could make it up the stairs.

      She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt the pressure of a hand at the small of her back. She whipped her head around and met Jesse’s warm brown eyes.

      “Go ahead,” he said, with an encouraging smile—he must have noticed how tense she was. That knowledge didn’t help one bit. “I’ll get you something to drink. Wine?”

      She jerked her chin in some vague form of a nod and kept her focus on the empty chair until she was safely seated.

      No one seemed to have observed her attack of nerves, no one except Jesse, of course. Rachel had already started passing a platter of bread and butter around the table.

      “Listen up, everyone,” she said, pulling a large glass bowl of salad toward her. “This is Shea. I lied and told her how nice and perfectly civilized we all are, so try and fake it, okay?”

      Laughter interspersed with indignation filled the room. The older woman Shea had seen earlier sat at the head of the table shushing them, then directed a smile at Shea. “I’m Barbara McAllister, the mother of this rowdy bunch. Except Jamie over there, who I’ve decided to claim, anyway.”

      Grinning, the blonde lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers.

      “That’s Cole cutting the lasagna,” Barbara continued.

      “Glad you could join us, Shea,” he said, regarding her with the same dark eyes as Jesse. “Hand me your plate. I’ve got a nice big juicy piece for you.”

      “Come on, you know I have a system.” Rachel stopped tossing the greens to glare at her brother. “Keep cutting. Let me get the salad passed around clockwise and then—”

      “Oh, Christ, here we go—”

      “Trace!” Barbara gave him a reproving look.

      A giggle rose in Shea’s throat and she pressed her lips together trying to smother the sound.

      Rachel clearly heard. “What?” she asked, her mouth slightly curved. “It’s okay. Everyone laughs at Trace.”

      “No, your system. Passing clockwise,” Shea said, trying to compose herself. “I get that. I really do.”

      “Thank you,” Rachel said with a smug lift of her chin aimed at Trace.

      He made a crack that Shea didn’t hear because Jesse came up behind her, and suddenly all her senses were fixated on him.

      “Would you like white or red?” he asked, bending close to her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin and sending an unexpected shiver down her spine.

      She turned her head and saw that he was holding a bottle of wine in each hand. “Actually, I’m not much of a drinker. Maybe I should stick with water.”

      “All right, but this chardonnay is pretty good stuff.” His voice was low and deep, and terribly unnerving because it seemed meant only for her.

      Shea sighed. Probably a mistake given that she was already feeling rather warm, but she said, “Maybe a little.”

      “Wine?” Trace snorted. “What’s the occasion?”

      “Think, you heathen. We’re celebrating Jamie coming to be with us for the holidays.” Rachel sprinkled sunflower seeds on the salad, gave it a long approving look, then passed the bowl to her mother.

      Jamie grinned. “We can always hook you up to a keg, Trace.”

      “Hey, I’m down with that.” Trace smiled, his teeth strikingly white against his tan skin.

      He was one of those real charmers, Shea thought, watching the way he casually combed his fingers through his thick dark hair. Probably had a string of girlfriends.

      Shea forgot all about Trace as Jesse leaned in between her and Rachel to pour them each some wine. He brushed her shoulder as he maneuvered his upper body through the narrow space. Angled toward Shea, his flat belly only inches away, he ignited a tingling, nervous sensation that made her hold her breath and force her face straight.

       One, two, three… four, five, six… seven, eight, nine…

      His task accomplished, he retreated, and she stopped counting, unclenched her teeth and let out a slow breath that was still a bit shaky.

      “Thank you,” she managed to say in a small voice.

      “You’re welcome.” He’d already moved on to his mother, poured red for her and then continued on, filling everyone else’s glasses.

      Okay, that was weird. Not her reaction—she always hated when anyone got too close—but the heat spreading through her limbs unsettled her some. Jeez, was she ever regretting the dinner invitation. This was torture and to top it off, her appetite was gone.

      She hadn’t realized she was still tracking him until she heard her name and it was clear someone was trying to get her attention.

      Blinking, she glanced around the table and saw Mrs. McAllister smiling at her.

      “It’s so good of you to give up the holidays with your family to volunteer at Safe Haven,” she said. “The people there are wonderful and I’m sure they appreciate your sacrifice.”

      “Oh, it’s no sacrifice.” Shea realized how that sounded, picked up her wineglass and took a sip. “I wanted to get away for the holidays.”

      “I did, too.” Jamie accepted the bowl of salad from Trace and heaped some on her plate. “I don’t have any brothers and sisters, and my parents live in Zurich, so I’m glad the McAllisters took pity on me.”

      “Excuse me.” Cole stopped serving lasagna to lift an eyebrow at her. “Is that your only reason for coming?”

      Even as the corners of Jamie’s mouth quirked, her forehead creased in a confused frown. “I can’t think of anything else,” she said with an exaggerated innocence that even Shea could tell was a fake.

      “Zap!” Trace barked out a laugh. “How’s your ego, bro?”

      Jamie leaned over and kissed Cole half on the mouth and half on the cheek, her hand reaching under the table.

      “I’d shut up until I got my lasagna if I were you,” Rachel told Trace.

      “If