“Made to hold you, Consuela.”

She giggled like a girl, had Cate staring after her as she walked to the coffee machine to make the latte.

Dillon only grinned. “Haven’t seen you around the ranch in a while,” he said to Cate.

“I had two big jobs back-to-back.” Since they were there, she took a cookie. “I was actually thinking I’d come by later today.”

“My ladies would love to see you.”

“You go. You take your cookie, your latte, and go take a shower, make yourself pretty.” Decision made, Consuela switched the latte to a go-cup. “You don’t go out enough. Young girls should go out. Why don’t you take my girl dancing?” she demanded of Dillon.

“I—” It only threw him off stride for a beat. “I’ve been saving my dances for you, amor mío.”

Nice save, Cate thought as Consuela giggled again.

“Go, go.” Consuela waved at Cate. “I have my eye on this one.”

“Okay, all right.” She grabbed up the latte. “I’ll go clean up. I’ll be over soon.”

She didn’t take long. Still, it surprised her to find Dillon just getting in his truck when she got back to the house.

“I stretched out the time. I haven’t hung out with Hugh in a while.”

She paused on her way to the garage. “I think that’s an excuse for you to flirt with Consuela.”

“Who needs an excuse?” He climbed in. “See you in a few.”

Now he had another picture, he thought as he drove. Cate in a warm-up jacket open to one of those sports bra deals—blue like her eyes—and tight pants covered with blue flowers that stopped midcalf, and left a lot of midsection exposed.

Oh, well, what was one more?

He had had errands, and had wanted to see how Hugh was doing—plus, what guy wouldn’t enjoy having a sweetheart like Consuela fussing over him?

And he’d hoped, maybe, to catch a couple minutes with Cate. Done and doomed, Dil, he thought. You are done and doomed.

He parked at the ranch, waited for her to pull up beside him. Took the container of cookies out of the truck.

“These are mine, so don’t get any ideas. I’m just going to drop them off at my place. You can go right on in.”

“I’ve never seen your place.”

“Oh. Sure. Well, come on over. But these are still my cookies.”

“You’re not the only one who can sweet-talk Consuela out of cookies.”

“So. Busy?”

“Yeah.” It smelled so good here, she thought. Different from the flowers and spice and sea of Sullivan’s Rest, but so good. “Plus, I’m spending a lot of time with Grandpa.”

“He looks great.”

“He really does. You wouldn’t know he’d been laid up last year. He’s heading back to L.A. in a couple weeks.”

“He told me. I’m supposed to keep an eye on you.”

“Which one?”

“He didn’t specify.”

When Dillon opened the door, Cate stepped in, took stock.

“This is so nice.”

A big Navajo-style rug accented dark, wide-planked floors. Paintings of rising mountains, of sheep-dotted hills, of wild orange poppies smothering a meadow hung on walls of dark honey.

He kept it tidy, she thought, and no-fuss male. No frilly throws or fancy pillows on the navy sofa or dark gray chairs. No fancy bits on tables other than a few photos, a polished wood bowl filled with interesting rocks, a few arrowheads.

“You never know what you’re going to find,” he said.

“I guess not. Terrific view, too. The paddock and the sea out the front.”

She wandered over to the open kitchen—glossy white appliances, roomy counters that mixed the navy and gray. “Fields, hills, horses, and all the rest out here. It was smart to angle the house so you didn’t end up looking at the side of the barn.”

“Stables.”

“Right.”

He’d set up a little office space, the workstation facing the wall dominated by a calendar and holding a computer, some files, a mug full of pens and pencils.

A floor-to-ceiling set of iron shelves held books, lots of books, with a few more photos interspersed and what she supposed he saw as acceptable ornaments.

An old spur, some sort of odd tool, some X-Men action figures.

“No TV for you?”

“Are you kidding? I’m a guy.” He gestured her over.

“It’s two bedrooms. I sleep on that side. Planning for way into the future, my women wanted everything on one level, with each bedroom having its own bathroom. So if and when we ever switch houses they won’t kill each other.”

He led her in. “They figured I’d use this as a guest room—who for, I don’t know—and office space. I had other ideas.”

“Yes, you did.”

She supposed it qualified as a man cave, though there was nothing cave-like with the views of the ranch out the windows.

He had a beer/wine fridge, a big chocolate leather couch, a pair of recliners. The enormous flat screen on the wall dominated everything.

She circled, noticed he had both an Xbox and a Nintendo Switch. And another floor-to-ceiling shelving unit holding—very, very organized—video games and DVDs.

“A gamer, are you?”

“Not like I tried to be as a kid, but if you don’t make time for fun, what’s the point? Especially on long winter nights. Anyway, I’ve got a couple of pals who game when we have a chance. Leo’s got a kid coming in a few months, so he may fall out for a while. The other’s actually a game programmer. Dave kicks our asses regularly. Always did,” he added, “even when we were kids.”

“You’ve known them that long?”

“Since first grade, yeah.”

Something to envy, she thought, those roots, that continuity.

She trailed a finger over the games. “You play Sword of Astara?”

“Hot warrior babe, swords and battles and magic spells. What’s not to like?”

“I voiced her.”

“You did what? Shalla? Warrior Queen? She doesn’t sound like you.”

“No. But I can sound like her.”

Turning, face suddenly fierce, Cate mimed drawing a sword, lifting it high. “My sword for Astara!” Her voice went as fierce as her face, deeper than her own and with a hint of the Highlands. “My life for Astara!”

He wasn’t sure what it said about him that hearing that voice come out of her made him want to just grab her and dive in.

He tried restraint. “Well, holy shit. I’ve played you dozens of times. I didn’t know you did games. What else have I got?”

“Let’s see. Yeah, the bubbly fairy in this one, the wicked sorcerer queen in this, and, ah, the stalwart soldier here, the smart-ass street kid here.”

She turned back, amused at the way he just stared. “One of the jobs I just finished was Sword of Astara: The Next Battle. I might be able to get you an early copy.”

He finally found his voice. “I don’t suppose you want to get married?”

“It’s so nice of you to ask, but we haven’t even been dancing. Instead, maybe I haven’t missed the afternoon milking. I really would like to see how it’s done. Who knows? I may need to voice a milkmaid one of these days.”