Always A Mcbride. Linda Turner

she couldn’t run the ranch by herself and raise the rest of us. So he did it for her.”

      “What about college?” Taylor asked. “Did he ever go?”

      “No,” she said simply. “Zeke went on to get his Ph.D, I went to veterinary school and Janey became an RN, but Joe never went. We owe him a lot. If he hadn’t run the ranch and helped put all of us through school, there’s no telling what any of us would be doing now.”

      Taylor doubted that any of them would have ended up waiting tables—they all sounded too intelligent for that—but there was no question that their lives would have been different if it hadn’t been for the fact that Joe had sacrificed his own education for theirs. And that gave him a lot to think about. He’d always thought that if his father had any other children, they’d probably been blessed with a golden childhood, free of the worries and lack of security he’d grown up with. Apparently, they’d gone through rough times, too, if Joe had to give up college to keep the family afloat.

      For a moment, he almost felt sorry for the unknown Joe. But then a bitter voice in his head pointed out that while he, himself, had been living in roach-invested government housing as a child, his half brothers and sisters had been growing up on a ranch that was, no doubt, nearly as big as Rocky Mountain National Park. Poor Joe? He didn’t think so.

      “You would all have probably still found a way to go to college,” he retorted. “And your brother would still have turned out to be a rancher whether he went to college or not. It’s obviously in his blood.”

      “Actually, it’s in all our blood,” Merry replied with a smile. “Janey and I might not be working the ranch like the boys, but we love it as much as they do. I guess that’s why we all built our homes within a few miles of the homestead. It’ll always be home.”

      Because she was a McBride, Taylor thought grimly. A legitimate McBride. They all were. He wasn’t and never would be. There would be no home on the range for him, no sense of family, no belonging that they took for granted. Because their father—and his—had not been an honorable man.

      “You know, you really should come out and see the ranch,” Merry told him with a smile. “We all get together once a week for dinner, just to keep in touch and find out what’s going on in each other’s lives. We’re going to Joe’s tonight. Why don’t you come? You, too, Phoebe,” she added. “We always have enough food for an army, and I know everyone would love to see you.”

      Surprised, Phoebe blinked. “Oh, no, I couldn’t. It’s a family get-together. I wouldn’t want to intrude on that or Taylor’s work. I can see everyone another time.”

      Elated—he’d never dreamed he’d be invited to the ranch this quickly!—Taylor was determined not to lose this chance. “You wouldn’t be intruding, Phoebe,” he assured her, “at least, not on my work. Most of my research involves talking to people, recording their conversations, and transcribing the tapes later. There’s no reason why you can’t be there, visiting with your friends. And I don’t have a car. Remember? I called Colorado Springs to see about getting a rental, but it won’t be delivered until tomorrow morning. So, in the meantime, I’m afoot. If you’ve got other plans and can’t go, I understand, but I could really use a ride. And if you’re going to drive me out there, you might as well stay to eat and visit.”

      Put on the spot, she couldn’t come up with a reason to turn him down, especially when his plan made perfect sense. Reluctantly, she agreed. “If you’re both sure…”

      “It’ll be fun,” Merry assured her, hugging her. “Be at Joe’s at seven. And don’t worry about bringing anything. Like I said, there’ll be plenty to eat.” The puppies chose that moment to cry out from her truck and she grinned. “It sounds like the natives are getting restless. I’ve got to go. See you both tonight.”

      She was gone so fast, Phoebe didn’t have time to reconsider what she’d agreed to until it was too late. Then it hit her. For all practical purposes, she had agreed to attend a dinner party with Taylor. Dear God, they had a date and she didn’t even know how it had happened!

      She should have backed out immediately. She loved the McBrides and didn’t doubt that she’d enjoy visiting with all of them, but not with Taylor. She hadn’t forgotten how her heart kicked at the sight of him. There was something about him that put her on edge, and for the life of her, she didn’t know why. She didn’t want to be so aware of him, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. And that troubled her. She hardly knew the man, and what she did know about him she wasn’t sure she liked. He was moody and surly, and too sophisticated for a woman like her. Knowing that, she should have kept her distance, been as cool and reserved as he, and looked forward to the day he checked out. Instead, she’d stupidly agreed to go to the McBrides’ with him. She must have been out of her mind.

      At ten minutes to six, Phoebe stood in front of her closet, frowning at the meager supply of clothes she’d brought with her and wondering what in the world she was going to wear on a date that she was determined wasn’t going to be a date at all. She’d had all day to think about it, and she’d realized that the only reason Taylor had pushed her to accept Merry’s invitation was so that he’d have a ride out to the ranch. That should have calmed the butterflies that had fluttered in her stomach all afternoon. She was just giving him a ride, and for convenience’s sake, she’d stay to visit with her friends while he worked. In no way, shape or form, could that be considered a date.

      So why did it feel like one?

      Frowning at the thought, Phoebe told herself to grab something from the closet, anything. It didn’t matter what she wore—she didn’t have a date! She was just having dinner with some old friends and a guest who wasn’t the least bit interested in her. And that was fine. She wasn’t trying to attract his attention or look pretty for him. She could throw on anything decent, pull a brush through her hair, and she was good to go. No problem.

      But knowing that and doing it were two different things. Every time she reached for something simple and comfortable, she found her hand drifting, instead, to something a little nicer, something soft and feminine that brought out the blue of her eyes. It was damned irritating.

      Frustrated, she muttered, “You’re running out of time, Phoebe. Pick something!”

      Closing her eyes, she grabbed the first hanger her fingers touched and told herself she would wear it regardless of what it was. When she opened her eyes to discover that it was one of her favorite blouses—and one of the most feminine ones she owned—she hesitated. It was a soft, gauzy material, with frilly cap sleeves and a little bit of lace at the neck, and it looked good with anything, including jeans, which she’d intended to wear tonight to Joe’s. It was, however, also a date blouse, something that she felt pretty and feminine in and men generally noticed. The question was, did she want Taylor to notice?

      When she hesitated, she knew she was in trouble. She had to be losing her mind. He was cold and unfriendly and angry. Why would she want a man like that to notice her? Afraid to go there, she pulled the blouse off the hanger and hurriedly slipped it on. This was ridiculous. It was just a blouse. She wasn’t going to beat herself up wondering if she’d made the right choice.