Free At Wolf Ranch by Jennifer Ryan Page A

couldn’t make it quite fit. The woman he met last night and this morning seemed quiet, reserved, strong to endure all she had since yesterday. Not at all like the party girl they showed on TV. Strange. Intriguing.
    With his mind full of questions, he waited for Ella to change clothes. He didn’t know why she wanted to go to the house, but he’d take her because it seemed important.
    The TV weatherman rattled on about a storm in the Midwest. He found the remote and shut the TV off. He’d like to find out more about what happened—and about Ella and Lela.
    “I’m ready.” Her soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
    “Ella, are you sure you’re up to this? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look wrecked. The house will still be there after you get some rest. It’s best if you stay off that ankle for a few days. Sit down. Let’s talk.”
    “I don’t have time to talk. I need to go there.”
    “Why? What does this have to do with Lela’s murder?”
    “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
    Even more confused, he wanted to push, but didn’t. “Fine.” He relented. For now.
    She limped, heavily favoring her right foot, toward the front door. Those ankle boots didn’t help in the least. The black slacks hugged the curve of her hips and her toned thighs. Some part of him had paid close attention to every line and curve when he helped her last night. In the moment, he tried to focus on the task, getting her warm and making sure she didn’t have any major injuries. Last night, when his need for sleep overpowered his worry for her, he dreamed of those legs and that nothing of a swatch of lace covering her hips and sweet bottom. He stared at it now and pictured those lace panties. The matching bra had left nothing to the imagination. Her nipples stood out a soft pink against the black lace over sheer fabric. In his dream, she wasn’t hurt at all, but wrapped around him, his tongue tracing the top of her breast over that fancy concoction.
    Stop. She’s your guest, not a fantasy come to life. So buck up and get your mind out of her pants.
    She opened the front door and the blast of cold made her take a step back.
    “I forgot your coat. Hold on.”
    He rushed into the laundry room off the back of the kitchen and grabbed her coat. “I left it on the warm dryer this morning when I washed your pants and sweater.”
    Ella stared down at her pants, then back at him. “Where is my sweater?”
    “I owe you a new one,” he admitted. He hadn’t bothered to look at the tag until after it went through the washer and dryer and came out four sizes smaller. “We don’t do much dry cleaning in these parts.”
    Her pretty mouth quirked in a rare glimpse of humor. “Don’t worry about it.”
    “I imagine it was really expensive.”
    “No need to imagine. It was, but it’s only clothes. You went above and beyond taking care of me last night. I appreciate it.”
    “I owe you a sweater.”
    “All I want is a ride home.”
    “Fine, but then we’re going to have a serious talk.” He held the coat up and she put her arms through the sleeves. He adjusted it on her shoulders and led the way to the door, holding it open for her to exit.
    She stopped in the yard and stared at the two gray horses in the pasture. They snuggled close to each other to keep warm in the crisp morning air. Their breath came out in wispy clouds. Her eyes went soft and filled with unshed tears.
    She cleared her throat and whispered, “We used to ride together when we came here. We loved the ranch. The horses. The mountains and valleys. In New York, I still rode, but she stopped. It reminded her too much of our time here with our parents.”
    “You rode to remember them, your sister, and everything you had here.”
    “We thought this place was magical. Our father spent time with us here like he couldn’t in New York. Not with all the demands on him for the company and other social obligations. Here, our parents took the time to