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“Absolutely,” Boone agreed. “What the hell is a boudoir photographer?”

In answer, Tildi rolled her eyes. “It's a photographer who specializes in taking sexy bedroom pictures. I wonder how good she is?”

Boone's eyes narrowed. “Did you just roll your eyes at me, bluebell?”

“Um, no?”

Chance grinned. Tildi had added so much to their family in the short time she'd been there. She and his younger sister, Kenzie, were fast becoming the best of friends. Ruby, who kept the lodge running smoothly and kept them all fed, was thrilled to have someone in the kitchen learning all her best recipes. At least, that's what she told everyone.

Ruby had been a part of their family since before Chance was born. She was the touchstone, stepping in for their mother after their parents had been killed.

Looking around the gathering, Tildi asked, “Where’s Kenzie?”

Trace spoke up first. “She went to bed already.” With a grin, he added, “She said she had a headache.”

Tanner snorted. “Yeah. A headache named Sev Midnight.”

Chance didn’t see anything about Seven Midnight as a laughing matter. “Why was he even here? The state of Washington is a long way to travel for a local Friendsgiving celebration.”

Tanner shook his head. “I don’t think the celebration was his main reason for attending.”

Chance glared at Boone. “You better talk to him. There’s a lot of places to bury a body on this ranch.”

Trace must have agreed. “Especially the leader of a Cosa Nostra family who won’t quit nosing around our sister.”

“Damn straight,” Tanner agreed, raising his glass.

“I’m on it,” Boone assured them all, but Chance had a bad feeling they would be seeing a lot more of Boone’s friend.

Taking another swallow of his whiskey, he caught a flash of blonde reflected off the cut crystal of the rock glass. At first, he thought it was a trick of the firelight. But then he noticed Boone staring at the door to the kitchen.

“Got’cha,” he muttered and put his glass down on the coffee table. “I have to grab something in the kitchen. Limburger cheese is involved, so you may want to steer clear for a while.”

As he strode toward the kitchen, Tanner said, “I didn’t know he liked Limburger.”

The thud of a punch preceded Trace’s exasperated, “He doesn’t, you idiot.”

Chance only heard the scuffle behind him. It would have made him smile except for the sight that met him when he entered the kitchen. The woman he’d been trying to catch all day was helping herself to the leftovers from the Friendsgiving.

That just proved his suspicions. Slowly, so as not to draw attention, he took the rope, now right where it was supposed to be, coiled and hanging from the clasp on his belt.

The little thief looked up as soon as he started twirling his lasso, but it was too late. He tossed the loop and jerked the lariat taut as soon as it landed on its naughty target, causing her to drop the dipper she was holding back into its pot.

“Hey!” she called out, but no one would be coming to her defense.

“Howdy, ma’am. You should have tried saying hello earlier, instead of leadin’ me on a hell of a chase all day.”

She tugged on the rope and tried to pull it from his hands. “Get me out of this, you… you mean old rodeo clown. You can’t just lasso people for no reason.”

“Hey! Who are you callin’ old? And it’s my ranch you were puttin’ yourself in danger on. That means I can do whatever I want.”

Fuck, could he sound any less mature and in control?

He pulled her to him faster, before she could hurt herself. If she kept up all that racket, his entire family would soon be watching them from the kitchen doorway. Well, one way to fix that.

He hadn’t been born and raised on a ranch for nothing. As soon as she was close enough, he bound her wrists together as well as her ankles. “You might want to quit the struggle for this next part,” he warned her. “I’d hate to drop you.”

“Drop me? What do you mean—oof!”