Read Online The Rancher's Second Chance by Victoria James - Free Book Online Page A

guess we should have taken Mrs. Harris’s picnic lunch,” she said while unfolding her clothes.
    “Yeah, I’ll never hear the end of that one.”
    “Anymore jerky?” Maybe that would distract him and make him stop watching her. His face lit up. He seemed very happy about her appreciation for the jerky.
    “You bet.” He grabbed a handful of wrapped jerky, the whiskey, and the one glass and sat down on the couch. Then he stretched out his long legs on the coffee table and watched her like a television.
    She frowned when there wasn’t even a hint of fat from his stomach when he was seated. Not even a roll. She needed something that would make him less appealing. Maybe he’d belch. She turned around.
    “You should have some more whiskey,” she said over her shoulder as she unfolded her jeans.
    “Are you sewing a whole new set of clothes over there?”
    Melanie jumped. Hang up the clothes, you ninny. She placed one of the heavy cans on top of her jeans to hold it in place and then moved onto her shirt. She tilted her head, looking at the display. Then she moved the cans together, giving the appearance of a cinched waist on the jeans. Perfect. That was easy enough. Just the bra and underwear. Cole’s loud sigh reeked of impatience. She glanced over at the fireplace accessories stand. Maybe she could just loop the strap on one of those? It would be obscure. She looped one bra strap over the top of the poker, and the underwear through the top of the tongs, and then she turned the stand so that her lingerie pieces were at the back. Perfect.
    “Why are you rearranging furniture?”
    She ignored him. She was actually quite pleased with herself when she sat down on the other end of the couch.
    “You want the bottle or the glass?” he asked, turning to look at her.
    She swallowed hard. “The bottle. Definitely the bottle.”
    “Impressive.” He smiled, an adorable smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and a dimple appear on one cheek. It made her toes curl and sent ribbons of pleasure through her body. He leaned back into the cushions, his smile falling slightly. She looked at him, from the handsome face to the bare, perfectly sculpted torso to the narrow waist and long, lean legs. She wasn’t going to lick her lips, like the man was a part of an all-you-can-eat dinner buffet, but then he leaned forward to pick up his glass from the coffee table and a ripple effect of muscles over his abs sent a ripple-effect through her body. Why, oh why, did Cori have a brother like this?
    Her insides liquefied, and she grabbed the bottle, downing a large swig. She didn’t even cough as the liquid burned a path down her throat.
    “I hope I’m not going to have to pick you up off the floor,” he said, again that smile still on his face. She’d never seen him smile so much. He must have downed a hell of a lot of whiskey while she was in the washroom.
    “Relax, cowboy, I can handle myself.” Then she cursed herself. She was flirting. Relax, cowboy? It was like she was repeating lines from a movie. And then he actually chuckled. More like a smooth, rolling laugh that reverberated through every inch of her body. She tucked her uninjured leg under her and smoothed the long shirt over herself carefully.
    “Oh my God,” he yelled, leaning over her.
    She backed up into the cushions. “What?”
    He was looking at her foot. “Your ankle is huge.”
    She wanted to die. “No, it’s not . I don’t have huge ankles.”
    “It’s the size of a freaking cow hoof. Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was raspy and tender at the same time. Before she could process the cow-hoof remark, he wrapped his strong hand around her injured ankle.
    She flinched and gasped out loud.
    His head snapped up. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were this hurt?”
    She was trying to concentrate, but Cole, up close like this, with his hand on her bare skin was highly distracting. She almost forgot the hoof reference. “I didn’t want to