Outlaw Hartes. RaeAnne Thayne

here on the doorstep, hoping this time the people inside would like her?

      Dylan, heedless of her mother’s nerves, rushed up the remaining steps and buzzed hard on the doorbell, and Ellie forced herself to focus on something other than her own angst.

      She looked around her, admiring the view. In the lightly falling snow, the ranch was beautiful. Matt kept a clean, well-ordered operation, she could say that for him. The outbuildings all wore fresh paint, the fences were all in good repair, the animals looked well-cared for.

      Some outfits looked as cluttered as garbage dumps, with great hulking piles of rusty machinery set about like other people displayed decorative plates or thimble collections. Here on the Diamond Harte, though, she couldn’t see so much as a spare part lying around.

      It looked like a home, deeply loved and nurtured.

      What must it have been like to grow up in such a place? To feel warm dirt and sharp blades of grass under your bare feet in the summertime and jump into big piles of raked leaves in the fall and sled down that gently sloping hill behind the barn in winter?

      To know without question that you belonged just here, with people who loved you?

      She pushed the thoughts away, angry at herself for dredging up things she had resolved long ago. It was only the holiday that brought everything back. That made her once more feel small and unwanted.

      To her relief, the door opened before she could feel any sorrier for herself, sending out a blast of warmth and a jumble of delectable smells, as well as a small figure who launched herself at Dylan with a shriek of excitement.

      “You’re here! Finally!”

      “We’re early, aren’t we?” Ellie asked anxiously. “Didn’t your aunt say you were eating at two? It’s only half past one.”

      “I don’t know what time it is. I’ve just been dying for you to get here. Dylan, you have got to come up to my room. Uncle Jess bought me the new ’N Sync CD and it’s so totally awesome.”

      Before Ellie could say anything else, both girls rushed up the stairs, leaving her standing in the two-story entry alone, holding her pecan pie and feeling extremely foolish.

      Okay. Now what did she do? She’d been in the huge, rambling ranch house a few times before to pick up Lucy or drop off Dylan for some activity or other, but she had always entered through the back door leading straight into the kitchen. She had no idea how to get there from the front door, and it seemed extremely rude to go wandering through a strange house on her own.

      She could always go back and ring the doorbell again, she supposed. But that would probably lead to awkward questions about why her daughter was already upstairs while she lingered by the door as if ready to bolt any moment.

      She was still standing there, paralyzed by indecision, when she heard loud male groans at something from a room down the hall, then the game shifted to a commercial—somebody hawking razor blades.

      “You want another beer?” she heard Matt’s deep voice ask someone else—his brother, she presumed, or perhaps one of the ranch hands. The deep timbre of it sent those knots in her stomach unraveling to quiver like plucked fiddle strings.

      Seconds later—before she could come up with a decent place to hide—he walked out in the hall wearing tan jeans and a forest-green fisherman’s sweater. She was still ordering her heart to start beating again when he turned and caught sight of her standing there like an idiot.

      “Doc!” he exclaimed.

      “Hi,” she mumbled.

      “Why are you just standing out here? Come in.”

      She thought about explaining how the girls had abandoned her for their favorite boy band, then decided she would sound even more ridiculous if she tried. She held up the pie instead. “Where’s the best place for this?”

      “Probably in the kitchen. I was just heading there myself, I can show you the way. Here. Let me take your coat first.”

      She tensed as he came up behind her and pulled her coat from her shoulders while she transferred the pie from hand to hand. Despite her best efforts, she was intensely aware of him, his heat and strength and the leathery smell of his aftershave.

      After he hung her coat in a small closet off the entry, he took off down the hall. She followed him, trying fiercely not to notice the snug fit of his jeans or those impossibly broad shoulders under the weave of his sweater. Something was different about him today. It took her a moment to figure out what. He wasn’t wearing the black Stetson that seemed so much a part of him, nor was his hair flattened from it.

      The dark waves looked soft and thick. They would probably be like silk under her fingers, she thought. The impulse to reach out and see for herself was so strong, she even lifted a hand a few inches from her side, then dropped it quickly in mortification.

      It was much safer to look around her. This part of the house was one she hadn’t seen before, but it had the same warmth of the rest of the house, with family pictures grouped together on one wall and a huge log cabin quilt in dark greens and blues hanging on the other.

      As they neared the kitchen, the smells of roasting turkey and vegetables grew stronger, and her stomach gave a loud, long rumble. She pressed a hand to it, hoping no one else could hear but her.

      When she looked up, though, she found Matt giving her a lopsided grin, and she flushed.

      “Oh, Ellie! You made it!” Matt’s sister looked pretty and flustered as she stirred something on the stove with one hand while she pulled a pan of golden dinner rolls out of the oven with the other. “When it started to snow, I was afraid you’d decide not to make the drive.”

      “It’s not bad out there. A few flurries, that’s all. Just enough to make everything look like a magic fairyland.”

      “Wait until you’ve lived here for a few years. You won’t describe the snow quite so romantically. Oh, is that your famous pie? Does it need to go in the refrigerator?”

      “No. I don’t think so.”

      “Good. I’m not sure I could find room for it.” Cassie blew out a breath and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear just as the timers on the stove and microwave went off at the same time. The frazzled look in her eyes started to border on panic.

      “Uh, anything I can do to help?” Matt asked suddenly.

      His sister sent him a grateful look. “Actually, there is. Can you finish chopping the raw vegetables to go with that dip you like? Oh, rats,” she exclaimed suddenly. “I forgot to bring up the cranberry sauce from the store room. Ellie, would you mind stirring this gravy for me? I think most of the lumps are out of it—just make sure it doesn’t burn on the bottom.”

      “Uh, sure.”

      She set her pie on the only bare patch of countertop she could find and took the wooden spoon from Cassie, who rushed from the room, leaving her and Matt alone.

      He immediately went to work on the vegetables. The cutting surface was on a work island in the middle of the kitchen with only a few feet separating it from the stove, forcing them to stand side by side but facing opposite directions.

      Again she felt that sizzle of awareness but she sternly tried to suppress it. They lapsed into an awkward silence while they did their appointed jobs.

      “Everything smells divine,” she finally said.

      He seized on the topic. “Yeah, Cassidy’s a great cook. I’ve always thought she should have her own restaurant.”

      “I didn’t know Cassie was short for Cassidy.” She paused, remembering something SueAnn had told her about the middle brother, the Salt River chief of police. “Let me get this straight, you have a brother named Jesse James and a sister named Cassidy?”

      His low, rueful laugh sent the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. “Our dad was what I guess