Leslie convinced Retta and the boys that they should take the house, make it theirs. Eventually, Lincoln, she, and Daddy would have a big ranch to ramble around in, so it didn’t make sense for everyone to move a million times.

Leslie knew Lincoln would love having Retta and her sons there, and she was right. The boys followed Lincoln around like puppies, building fences, learning about the livestock they would purchase, pounding nails, and very rarely fighting or even remembering that they only had one game controller.

For a few days, Leslie and Lincoln lived in the little tent from the campground, then one day Lincoln drove up in an RV.

“Leased for a year, or however long it takes that log home to be livable.” Lincoln had let her pick plans for a log home on the ranch. She would have a big kitchen, a suite for Daddy, and a master bedroom across the house, for her and Lincoln. She had no idea how this house was going to be built, but he told her to pick out what she wanted. She even got one of those showers with two shower heads. That would feel like an airplane hangar after the shower in the RV. But as small as the RV shower was, it still fit her and Lincoln. Most of the time, if she got in, he soon followed. She blushed to think how often Retta joked about the RV a’rockin.

The news about her dad was good, but there were good and bad days. He wasn’t ready to come home just yet; the hope was next spring, maybe. He was getting stronger, but his immune system was a concern. That’s what Carter said.

Every day she visited, Daddy seemed stronger. He too had plans for the ranch and started weighing in on how Lincoln should start. Lincoln listened and was amazed to have an old farmer, ready to lend advice, if not yet able to pitch into the labor part of things.

“I thought I would be out here by myself, you know, a rugged individualist?” Lincoln filled the bedroom section of the RV. Sometimes it seemed as wide as he was. Leslie was draped over him. That was the best way they both fit in the space.

“So now you’ve got a former Marilyn Monroe look-alike, a single mother, two little boys, a retired farmer ex-con, and Edith Piaf the bird to deal with. Do you regret falling for me?

“And don’t forget Dean Martin.” All of Leslie’s menagerie had made the trip with Retta.

“Well?”

“No. I do not regret it. Best job of my life.” And Leslie kissed him long and deep, his stubble burning her cheeks just the way she liked it.

Things would have gone deliciously farther, except they heard Retta making a huge fuss outside.

“OOOH! A more gorgeous man I have not seen. And I live with Lincoln McCall!”

Lincoln stepped out of the RV and into the sun with Leslie right behind him.

Standing on the front porch of the little house with Retta was a tall, lean, and like Retta said, gorgeous man.

“Well Lincoln McCall, you’ve managed to surround yourself with dangerous women.” The devil in the blue jeans and t-shirt winked at Retta and then turned his smile on Leslie. She needed sunglasses to protect her eyes from his white teeth.

“You must be Leslie.”

“I am.” Leslie walked over and put out a hand, which the stranger promptly ignored, snaring her in a tight hug.

“Hands off.” Lincoln barked the orders to their unexpected company.

“No harm, we’re family.”

“Let me guess? Pierce? Nixon? Washington?”

“Oh, well actually it’s Lee. My daddy named me. I’m the black sheep, named after a rebel.”

“It’s fitting.” Lincoln was getting grouchy. Cheerfulness tended to do that to him.

“I’ll tell you what’s fitting. I’m here to build Lincoln a log cabin.”

“I love it!” Leslie couldn’t help but clap her hands together. Lee was here to help build the house!

“Well that’s the plan, sweetheart, I aim to please.” Leslie was already smitten with this new member of the family. Where Lincoln was all silent menace, this was a double-barreled dose of charm and swagger.

“Let’s aim you in the direction of a hotel.” Lincoln was working to get between Leslie and his brother, just like he had with Truman.

“Nonsense, we’ve got plenty of room for another McCall.”

“Crap.” Lincoln was muttering under his breath.

“Come on in, Retta’s good at bacon and I’m good at eggs.” Leslie tugged at Lee and directed him to the house.

“Sound like the perfect combo.”

Retta rounded up the boys and they headed for the small cabin’s kitchen.

Leslie turned to see a reluctant Lincoln bringing up the rear.

“All this togetherness is sickening,” he was muttering. Leslie walked back to him.

“If you pretend to like it, I’ll make it worth your while.” That got his attention.

“How?” And he grabbed her by the hips and dragged her in close.

Leslie whispered the dirtiest thing she could think of in his ear.

“That’s a promise.”

Lincoln stood up straight and plastered a smile on his face.

“Brother Lee! I can’t wait to show you our plans! Eat up.”

“Much better,” said Leslie, joining the strange group in the tiny kitchen.

They didn’t have rings or preachers or children, but somehow Lincoln and Leslie had started a homestead. Leslie had gone from the Marilyn job to Ma Ingalls.

Well, if Ma Ingalls wore a thong…

The End.

to meet more of the sexy, possessive, and irresistible McCall Brothers.