“Are those moving boxes?” His light-brown eyes went comically large.
Zoey threw her hands up. “Surprise! I’m moving in!”
His gaze fell on her, his brow furrowing. “Moving in where?” He set her down and stepped back.
She gave him a playful punch in the arm, then glanced in the front door. “Where’s my room?”
“Your room?” He sounded perplexed.
A flash of red came tearing through the door. Allie, with red hair pulled back in a ponytail and with her appearance a hundred percent put together, zipped around Brandon and wrapped Zoey in a hug. “Zoey! It’s so good to see you.” Allie, at five foot seven, was a couple inches shorter than Zoey, but she somehow made Zoey feel smaller. Zoey thought it must be Allie’s big personality. She smelled of bread too, and of honey. Allie pulled back, her hands still on Zoey’s shoulders. “You made good time.”
Zoey grinned. “I left at a quarter to six this morning.”
There had been many times in Zoey’s life when she’d thought her brother was completely off his rocker—like when he’d used to take her dancing and had gotten in a fistfight with a guy for making a crude remark about her, or the first time she’d seen him playing Black Ops Tag with his military buddies, or when he’d moved to Harvest Ranch—but his decision to marry Allie had probably been the smartest thing he’d ever done with his life.
“I got a space all set up for you. You’re going to love it,” Allie said.
Brandon blinked. “I’m sorry. What’s happening here?”
Allie grinned at him. “Zoey’s moving in with us for a while.”
Brandon glanced over his shoulder to the house, looking at it like it was suddenly the size of a sardine can despite its actual large size. “She is?”
“Yep,” Zoey and Allie said in unison. Then they laughed.
Allie went up on tiptoe and kissed Brandon on the cheek. “I cleaned up the guest house for her.”
The tension that had hit Brandon right between the shoulders visibly eased. Zoey shook her head and grinned. Men.
Just then a polar-bear-sized dog bounded around the house and up onto the wraparound porch. Zoey stumbled back; then, realizing it was a dog and not actually a polar bear, she dropped to her knees. “Oh my goodness! The cuteness. Who is this handsome guy?”
“That’s Honey,” Allie said with an air of pride.
Zoey grinned as Honey lapped her face with wet kisses. “Well, aren’t you the cutest pooch I ever did lay eyes on? Yes, you are.”
He barked his approval, dropping a massive paw on her arm and nearly knocking her over.
“Whoa there, fella,” Zoey giggled. “Your paw weighs more than my left leg.”
Allie called him off, and Zoey stood. Honey sat at Allie’s feet.
A second later, Brandon turned his penetrating brown eyes on Zoey again, calculating. She’d seen that look before, and she knew what it meant. An interrogation was coming from her military police brother.
Evasive maneuvers required.
“Want to help me with boxes while I take the horses into the barn?” She skipped down the stairs to the back of her trailer. One by one she led them out and handed the lead ropes to Allie, who waited happily as she completed the task of unloading. Honey sniffed at and seemed to approve each horse in turn with a delighted bark.
Allie welcomed each horse in turn as well with gentle nuzzles and kind words of greeting given in a soft tone.
“And this is my favorite—don’t tell the others—Cher Bear,” Zoey said, rubbing her pinto’s nose. He nuzzled her hand.
“Cherokee,” Brandon corrected.
Zoey lifted an innocent shoulder—like she hadn’t made up the nickname to drive the men in her life nuts—and took the lead ropes in hand. She pointed to her roan and then her quarter horse. “That’s Rooster. Brandon gave him to me. And Rick gave me Chief—he used to be a racer.”
Brandon frowned, and Zoey held back a grin.
Rick had given her Chief after Brandon had given her Rooster—one-upping Brandon with the faster horse. She never told Brandon that Rooster was her best endurance horse, even if he was slower for shorter rides, just as she never let up about that fact to Rick. It was just too much fun playing her brothers off of one another. Plus, they both knew Cher Bear was her favorite. Her dad had given her that horse on her sixteenth birthday. He’d hated the nickname too.
