Page 17 of Mountain Rancher

ABIGAIL

I tossanother rejected outfit onto my childhood bed, the growing pile a testament to my indecision.

Nothing feels right. Nothing feels like me. Or at least, not the me I want to be when Hunter sees me tonight.

I grab another sweater from my suitcase, determined to find something that says “professional but approachable” instead of “I can’t stop thinking about your hands on me.”

“That’s the seventh outfit you’ve tried on,” Melody points out from her perch on my window seat, one hand resting on her swollen belly. “For a business meeting about pasture rotation.”

I ignore the knowing lilt in her voice. “I’m representing the financial interests of the entire family. I need to look competent.”

“Mmmhmm.” My sister-in-law’s hum drips with disbelief. “And that has nothing to do with the fact that you’ll be alone with Hunter Thomas at his cabin?”

Heat crawls up my neck. “It’s a professional meeting.”

“Professional meetings don’t typically require forty minutes of outfit changes.” Melody shifts to find a more comfortable position. “And they definitely don’t involve the kind of looks youtwo were exchanging. Seriously, Abby, the electricity between you could power the entire ranch.”

“There was no electricity,” I protest weakly as I hold a navy blouse against my chest and study my reflection.

“Too corporate banker,” Melody says with a dismissive wave. “And please. Wyatt noticed it. Even practical, never-notices-anything Wyatt asked me if there was something going on between you two.”

I drop the blouse when my stomach does a strange flip. “He did not.”

“Did too. Right after you went upstairs and Hunter conveniently remembered he needed to check on something in the stables.” She raises an eyebrow. “At nine thirty at night.”

I sink onto the edge of my bed, defeated. “Is it that obvious?”

Melody’s smile softens. “Only to those of us who have eyes. And hearts. And basic observational skills.”

“Shit.” I pick at a loose thread on my jeans. “This is complicated, Mel.”

“Why? You’re a grown woman. He’s a grown man. Clearly there’s attraction. What’s complicated?”

I count off on my fingers. “One, he works for my brothers. Two, I live in Houston. Three...” I hesitate, not sure how to put into words the overwhelming heat that floods my system every time he looks at me, the way my body betrays me with a single touch from him. “Three, it’s intense. Too intense.”

Melody’s eyes widen slightly. “Too intense? Do tell.”

I shake my head, unable to stop the memory from washing over me. The storage room. My back against the wall. Hunter’s body pressing mine, his hands tangled in my hair as his mouth claimed mine in a kiss that still makes my knees weak just thinking about it.

“Earth to Abigail.” Melody snaps her fingers. “You just went somewhere very interesting.”

“Sorry.” I clear my throat. “It’s just... it’s a lot. The way he looks at me sometimes, it’s like he wants to devour me.”

“And that’s a problem because...?”

“Because I barely know him! I mean, I’ve known him since we were kids, sure, but not as an adult. Not like this.”

Melody grins mischievously. “Sounds like the perfect opportunity to get to know him better.”

“What if it gets weird? What if we start something and it ends badly and then every family gathering for the rest of our lives is awkward?” I stand up again, too restless to stay seated. “Hunter’s practically family. My brothers treat him like another Clayton.”

“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t worry.” Melody’s voice is gentle. “If your brothers thought anyone was good enough for their little sister, it would be Hunter. He’s a good man, Abby.”

After a moment, she walks to my closet and rummages through the clothes that still hang there from before I moved to Houston. She pulls out a soft blue sweater I’d forgotten I owned.

“This,” she says decisively, “with those dark skinny jeans you brought. It’s casual enough for ranch business but still makes your eyes look amazing.”

I take the sweater, the cashmere soft against my fingers. “I haven’t worn this in years.”

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