Free Kiss Me (Fool's Gold series) by Susan Mallery Page A

impulse. When he figured it was time to scratch an itch, he found someone appropriate. Someone who understood his world and respected his responsibilities. Not brown-haired city girls with big eyes and shy smiles. Not women from LA. Not Maya’s friends.
    He knew his ex-stepsister had sent Phoebe up to the ranch to keep an eye on him until she could arrive to do it herself. For as long as she’d known him, Maya had made it clear she considered him a potential child abuser who had it in for his brother. Her idealistic view of Chase frustrated him, as did her need to always take his side. The kid was a screwup, plain and simple. If someone didn’t take him in hand and fast, he was going to spend his whole life never getting one thing right.
    Zane knew the danger of that. Maya thought he didn’t care, but she was wrong. He cared enough to be a bastard. Let Chase hate him all he wanted, just so long as the kid had a chance at a life without regrets.
    Zane stared at the map without seeing it. Honesty insisted he admit Chase got one thing right. He was a born ladies’ man. From the second he’d learned to talk, he’d been charming females into giving him extra cookies and letting him stay up late. Now that he was a teenager, Chase probably spent his dates charming his way into girls’ pants. Zane had given him the safe-sex lecture more times than either of them could count and kept the kid supplied with condoms. The last thing either of them needed was an unplanned pregnancy.
    Zane had yet to meet a female who didn’t fall for his brother’s easy words and open smile. Unlike Zane, Chase always knew the right combination of sincerity, charm and flattery. He wouldn’t kiss an attractive woman, then walk away without saying a word. Not that Zane had been talking all that much before he’d kissed Phoebe.
    He could talk to the cowboys on his staff, explain the lineage of any of his prize bulls to a potential buyer and go toe-to-toe with the toughest, orneriest negotiator this side of the Mississippi, but with women...especially women like Phoebe...he clammed up tighter than a virgin in church.
    The sound of footsteps distracted him. He turned his attention back to the map in front of him as Frank entered the room.
    “Sent Chase into town for supplies,” the older man said. “I got bad news.”
    Zane braced himself.
    “We needed a couple more tents, and we’re a saddle short.”
    Zane winced. A tent wouldn’t be expensive, but a good saddle was. “See if maybe Clay Stryker has one we can borrow. If not, keep track of how much we put out for this. I’ll take it out of Chase’s summer earnings.”
    “Sure thing, boss.”
    Zane moved closer to the map. “We can’t take them on a real cattle drive. We’ll follow the river toward the edge of our property that borders the Strykers’, then turn west here.” He indicated the spot on the map.
    Frank slid off his hat and rubbed the top of his head with his free hand. “You’re going in a circle?”
    “A big one. We’ll never be more than four hours’ ride from either here, the Strykers’, or Reilly Konopka’s place.”
    Frank’s expression tightened with surprise. “I didn’t know you’d started talkin’ to him.”
    “I haven’t.” If he had his way, he never would. “We have to stay sharp. If there’s an emergency, I can’t risk us being too far from help.”
    He knew he could count on the Stryker men, and while Reilly Konopka might be a crusty old pissant of a man who would happily leave Zane out in the cold to freeze to death, he wouldn’t turn away a stranger in need.
    “Arrange for supplies to be delivered every day. You’ll have to write up a schedule for the men. Have Cookie plan a menu this afternoon.”
    Frank’s eyes widened. He looked as if someone had just run over his favorite dog. “Boss, you’re not taking Cookie with you.”
    It was more of a plea than a question. “No one else can cook for shit. What am I supposed to feed