Page 6 of The Rancher's Pregnancy Surprise

Huh.

I suddenly realize I can't remember Claude and I ever enjoying a meal like this. And the more I think about it, the more I realize how I can't actually recall Claude having nothing to say...ever since we started dating. He was just so self-centered, but he was also painfully right when he said I was dumb. I just can't believe it's taken me this long to see his true colors, and—

Ugh.

I can't help but bristle when I belatedly notice the way my co-passenger is studying me. "What is it?" I ask defensively.

"I was wondering if I should just say it."

"Say what?"

He slowly shakes his head. "Never mind."

Grrr.

"If you have something to say," I say stiffly, "then please, by all means—"

Sheep!

All I can do is jerk as he suddenly reaches across the aisle to oh-so-gently wipe something off the corner of my lip. His thumb lingers there, just a fraction too long, and I feel that same electric current from before racing through my veins.

"There." He leans back against his seat. "All done."

I quickly look away as my cheeks start to burn. "Next time, just tell me—"

"Are you sure about that?"

The question has me frowning. "Yes, of course—"

"Because there's something that I can't stop thinking of, but I guess I should just ask you outright—"

The wickedness in his tone is a dead giveaway, and my stomach starts to cramp. Is he going to ask something inappropriate? Something personal?

"What's your—"

Is he going to ask for my number? Or is he just asking permission to—

"—favorite ice cream flavor?"

The question is so unexpected that I actually laugh. A real laugh—the first one I've had in weeks. It feels foreign, almost painful, like exercising a muscle that's been dormant for too long.

And when I glance back at him, the look in his eyes has changed. There's something darker there, more intense, and I feel a shiver of warning race down my spine.

"You should do that more often," he says, his voice dropping to a husky timbre that makes something inside me clench. "Laugh, I mean."

I swallow hard, suddenly aware of how small this luxurious bus feels. Twenty-six hours. Just the two of us.

And I don't even know his name.

Chapter Three

RONAN ALREADY KNEWwhat Acacia looked like even before walking into the bus station. A slim redhead of medium height, and although her back was turned to him now, he had a feeling the photo he had seen of her failed to capture the iciness of her blue eyes.

Her parents held high positions in one of the world's top banking chains. She had neither siblings nor cousins, being the only child of two career-minded individuals who were also raised in single-child households. As a result, Acacia had been raised by a succession of nannies and sent away as soon as she was old enough to be admitted to a ladies' boarding school.

She had no known interests or hobbies except for her keen interest in Greek mythology, and so it was no surprise she held a degree in Classical Studies. Her only job since graduating from college, which she had recently resigned from, was that of an on-call lecturer for private VIP tours in a boutique art museum. And since the Initiative was nothing but thorough when it came to conducting background checks on prospective residents, the report that landed two weeks ago in Ronan's inbox also included details of her ex-boyfriend and their breakup.

Acacia was dressed rather lightly for someone heading up to a frigid mountaintop town in Wyoming. A pastel oversized sweater that revealed the delicate slope of her shoulders, a denim skirt with a knee-high slit in the front and a pair of open-toed sandals that were as pretty as they were useless.

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