Hot Holiday Rancher. Catherine Mann

have a sister. She’s all the family I have left, actually. I thought I was going to lose her not too long ago. Her appendix ruptured and she had to have emergency surgery.”

      Hospital runs and the smell of antiseptic filled his memory. The bargaining and praying for his sister’s life he’d done were still a visceral memory in his stomach.

      “I’m so sorry. Is she all right now?”

      “She is.” He looked at the mug in Esme’s hand, thankful for his sister’s recovery.

      “Thank goodness. Still, that had to have been a scary time for you.”

      “It was.”

      Rain continued to fall outside, filling the pause with controlled chaos.

      She looked into her mug, swirling the hot chocolate around without meeting his gaze. “Actually, you weren’t wrong. My sisters have a special bond. My brother, well, his earlier move to Dallas wasn’t all that surprising. Now that he’s back, that seems to be changing some. Regardless, I’m still stuck somewhere in the middle. But that’s all right. Not everyone has the same relationship.”

      “You don’t sound like it’s okay.”

      She raised an eyebrow in surprise, then took another sip of the hot chocolate as she leaned on the granite countertop. She spread her fingers out wide as if soaking in the cool texture. “About those three someones… I’m dying to know more.”

      “Dates.”

      Her eyes went wide, and she inched back. “All three? At the same time?”

      “Whoa. It’s not what you’re thinking.” He held up his hands defensively, chuckling. “I signed up for a dating service, a matchmaker. She’s lined up a trio of candidates. They were each supposed to come out here individually to meet with me, to see my ranching lifestyle and decide if it’s off-putting. It’s not for everyone.”

      Her gaze flickering away at the mention of ranching not being for all, she wriggled her toes in his overlarge socks. “A matchmaker. Seriously?”

      “Plenty of people sign up for online services. I opted for the matchmaker because of lack of time.” Absolutely the truth. And he found a certain sort of…practicality about having an expert match him with someone with similar interests. It saved time rather than meeting scores of women socially and trusting fate to somehow work out his future.

      Her forehead furrowing in confusion, Esme leaned slightly forward. “Why do you want to have a girlfriend if you don’t even have time to look for one?”

      Well, that was easy enough to answer. “I don’t want a girlfriend. I want a wife.”