Big Sky Rancher Read Free

side of the road. Just where the buildings began, the street split in two, curving around a green area where children played on the patch of grass and watched wide-eyed as the farm wagon passed by. A town square, she suspected, but certainly not of the caliber of the one in the midst of New York City.
    Ahead of her, a series of buildings that might have been private homes stood side by side. Fences fronted the houses and gardens were sprouting between the road and the front stoop of many of the dwellings. Why the owners had chosen to forego grass for rows of radishes and beans was a question she set aside for now. The fact remained that vegetables were obviously of more importance than grass and flowers.
    Thunder Canyon was definitely not New York City.
    A small, white structure sat at the end of the row of dwellings, a church from all appearances. Beside it was another house, probably the parsonage, she thought, and was proved right when Lucas pulled the wagon to a halt in front of the white picket fence. At least some soul within these walls had a smidgen of culture, for grass fought with weeds for supremacy in two rectangles of green separated by a gravel path.
    Jennifer braced herself as Lucas approached, lifting his arms to her. “I can get down alone,” she muttered, fearful of his hands clutching at her middle once more.
    â€œNo doubt,” he said. “But you’re not going to. Now lean toward me, ma’am.” Without giving her a choice, he gripped her waist, his fingers holding her fast as he lifted her from the seat. Caught off balance, she fell smack across his broad chest and felt her breasts flatten against him, then she slid the length of his body. He stood her on her feet, looking down at her with a new and different expression in those blue eyes.
    She caught her breath, gazing around in desperation, as if there must be some haven she could claim, a bit of shelter from the storm invading her life. The presence of Lucas O’Reilly was one offering peril, she feared. Living with this arrogant man would be the epitome of disaster, for he would surely demand that she obey his rules, would certainly expecther to occupy his home and then supply all of his needs, beginning with the cooking and cleaning of said household and continuing on to satisfying his masculine desires.
    Hopefully he would be willing to wait for the accomplishment of those details until she was able to get herself in order and above all, to get used to having a big, hulking man in her life. Hulking? Perhaps not, she decided. Big, certainly. Threatening, definitely. But in a primitive, graceful manner, more suited to a wild animal who prowled in search of a mate.
    The idea of being a mate to this man was frightening beyond description. She’d envisioned a more sophisticated gentleman, such as might have founded Thunder Canyon from his place behind a desk in an office on Main Street. Lucas O’Reilly looked as if he were a stranger to such an amenity as a desk, let alone an office from which he did his business.
    She’d warrant he’d formed part of the thunder that inspired the name of this town, that his bellowing voice had cut down all who might protest his superiority when it came to putting his seal upon the forming of this community. Thunder Canyon suited him, with its ramshackle street, storefronts claiming to be reputable places of business and ragtag assortment of men who seemed to have nothing more to do with their time than to sit on backless benches in front of the general store and the town barbershop.
    Only the bank, a sturdy building situated next to the jailhouse, lacked a clutch of men holding up the front wall, its stalwart boards gleaming with white paint, as if daring anyone to soil its pristine surface. Even the small building in front of her now, the parsonage wherein she would lose her single status to gain the title of Mrs. Lucas O’Reilly, held its own porch-sitter.
    A young boy