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“What’s that?”
“Last time I checked, I’m not a ‘couple.’”
“Co-ed shower, then. We’re talking semantics here.” Catie’s tone softened. “Don’t you want to welcome little Violet?”
How in hell does she do that? Her petal-soft voice never failed to make him wilt. He was a sucker for his baby sister, and he’d be just as much of a sucker for his new niece. Violet was a beauty even at a week old, with a mop of black hair and eyes the darkest sapphire blue. They’d probably turn big and brown like Catie’s. She’d be a heartbreaker for sure.
But a baby shower? He was a man, for God’s sake. A damned cowboy. Cowboys did not go to baby showers. That had to be in a rulebook somewhere.
He shook his head. “What’s Chad think of this nonsense?”
“Chad says ‘whatever makes me happy.’”
Christ.
Whipped.
Harper had known Chad McCray most of his life. A bigger womanizer hadn’t existed on the planet…until Catie reeled him in. Now Chad was the epitome of whipped. His face was probably next to “whipped” in the damned dictionary. Harper couldn’t prevent a chuckle.
“What are you laughing at?” Catie demanded.
Why not be honest? “Just your whipped hubby, that’s all.”
“For your information, Chad is not whipped.”
“Give me a break, Catie-bug. You have the cowboy wrapped around your little finger, and it won’t be long till that pretty little daughter of yours has him twisted around hers, too.”
Catie’s soft laugh gave her away. She knew her husband was whipped. Heck, she was whipped, too. Those two were crazy about each other. Crazy in a way his and Catie’s parents had never been. Crazy in a way Harper had never been and probably never would be. He had a ranch to run now. When his father passed away several months ago, Harper had become sole owner of Cha Cha Ranch outside of Bakersville, Colorado. His mother, who’d inherited the ranch when Harper was a boy and transferred it to her husband, still lived in the big ranch house and would for as long as she wished. His uncle, Jefferson Bay, also lived there. Jeff had been estranged from the family for the last three decades, and they were slowly—very slowly—rebuilding their relationship.
Nope, no “whipped” for Harper. He had too much to do. Too many responsibilities. He wasn’t sure when he’d last had a date.
How long had it been since he’d had sex?
Too damn long. Had they changed it?
“Harp?”
Reality. Catie. Sometimes the magnitude of owning a whole beef ranch overwhelmed him. “Sorry, just thinking.” He sat down in his father’s—his—chair. “I really think I’ll pass on the shower thing, Sis.”
“Please? Rafe is coming with Angie. They’re coming in from the western slope just to attend.”
“They haven’t seen Violet yet. They’re coming to see her, not for the shower.”
“So they’ll kill two birds with one stone.”
“I suppose they will. I, however, have already seen my beautiful niece, and I plan to see her a lot. Just not during some girly shower.”
“It’s not going to be a girly shower.”
“Oh yeah? You getting a stripper?”
Another sigh from Catie. “Geez, Harp.”
“Sorry.” Though he wouldn’t mind seeing Amber Cross strut her stuff naked. Damn, she had the body of a stripper. Lithe long legs curled around a silver pole, platinum locks falling over rosy-skinned shoulders…pink nipples peeking through…
His groin tightened.
Christ. His body betrayed him. Amber was so not his type. Though she was a Texas native and the reigning Bakersville Rodeo Queen, she was about as far from the girls Harper had grown up with as Maine was from California. Cute Colorado farm girl? Hell, no. Nearly white tresses, long red fingernails, leather miniskirts, and sequined tube tops…
