Page 12 of Mad About Her Cowboys

The other three seemed content to let him take the lead right now, though she knew from brief experience that Connor was their true leader. They all followed behind Edison as he pointed out the north wing of the sprawling house, containing his and Neal’s bedrooms. The opposite wing had Franklin and Connor’s rooms. Without lingering, he pointed out the great room, an enormous family room, two offices with a reception area that could contain a secretarial office, the kitchen and the dining room.

The entire home was spacious and rustic, comfortable and well-kept. It reminded her of a fancy hunting lodge, full of room to stretch and outfitted in polished, warm wood.

All the while, Edison kept his fingers laced through hers as if it were nothing. And maybe, it wasn’t. It didn’t escape her attention that Connor had moved up beside them as they toured. His palm rested lightly on her lower back. Guiding her? Staking his claim? Anticipation fluttered through her again, her core knotting with need. Sharp, tingling waves through her center heightened her awareness.

Madison swallowed hard.

Play it cool. Don’t rush forward.

Oh, lighten up. What will it hurt?

“And here’s the kitchen,” Edison announced, interrupting her inner argument. “Franklin’s been at work getting stuff ready—he’s the cook in the family.”

“Hey,” Connor protested. “I’m grilling the burgers.”

Edison leaned into her. “He only knows how to grill. For real, the man has actually burned water.”

“Hey!” Connor protested again.

“It’s true,” Neal murmured, defending Edison.

“In my defense, I actually burned the pan, not water.”

“Because all the water had cooked away,” Edison argued, teasing him. “Oh my God, Madison! The smell.” He made a gagging sound.

Madison pressed her lips together to hold in her laugh, but a chuckle still escaped.

“You want something to drink?” Neal asked. “We have beer, water, wine, probably some juice, regular cola—no diet…”

“A water would be great,” she said. Wine would be better, but that was out of the question for four or so more months.

Minutes later, she had a bottle of water and was settled at the round table with Edison to her right and Neal to her left. Connor and Franklin were at work in the kitchen. Connor was indeed grilling but using the indoor grill since it had started snowing hard outside. The precipitation made Madison nervous. If it kept up, her drive home would be treacherous. Though she was used to navigating Michigan snow, she still needed to get her new car winterized.

Despite her concern, she couldn’t cut dinner short without being rude. She’d agreed to come, and they’d prepared for her.

Neal caught her gaze. “It’s probably a brief squall that’ll pass in a minute. If it gets too bad, we have lots of guest rooms.”

“That’s…um…” Tempting. Too tempting. Wayward visions of cuddling with them before the fireplace in the great room filled her thoughts before she could push them away.

“I’d love to whip up breakfast for you, and it’s the weekend so you don’t have to be back to the office until Monday,” Franklin blurted. “I mean…you know, if the snow gets too heavy.”

She grinned at him as he hurried out the words. There were far too many nerves in this room. It seemed a lot was at stake here. A new woman didn’t often come to Daly. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Did they like her or just her gender?

She glanced out the window again. True to what Neal said, it had slowed to flurries. A strange weight of disappointment settled over her. Gah! She needed to decide what she wanted.

She trusted them, and she’d be clear on their position before anything happened. If she’d been on edge before coming here, being in their house and witnessing how tentative they were, wanting to please her and not scare her off, told her she could relax a bit.

“That’s sweet,” she told Franklin.

“You guys can calm down,” she said. “I’m not sure I want to jump into anything, but if I do, you’re in the game, okay?”

“In the game?” Connor all-but-growled. “It’s not a game, Madison. We want you. We claimed you.”

“About that…” Okay, maybe, Connor had just been quiet and not nervous at all. “No one’s claiming me.”

Did she want to be claimed? No. But the idea of having fun with them was warming on her.

“Whatever you say, Mads,” Edison put in, and she warmed at the nickname, wondering if he’d heard River call her that.

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