Книга - The Maverick’s Bride-To-Order

The Maverick's Bride-To-Order
Stella Bagwell


Single Cowboy Seeks Perfect Match!Rust Creek RamblingsEveryone knows Rust Creek Falls is a good place to find love, but handsome ranching man Zach Dalton is not leaving anything to chance. His classified ad in the Rust Creek Falls Gazette has the whole town buzzing. The offer? No less than a lifetime commitment …for the perfect pie-baking, domestically inclined long-haired bride.One woman who definitely does not fit the job description is Gazette assistant editor Lydia Grant—curly-haired, independent and admittedly useless in the kitchen. Yet we here at the Gazette have seen definite sparks between the marriage-minded cowboy and the girl who is so not his “type.” Could it be Zach Dalton has already met his Mrs. Right? Clear your calendars, dear readers. We're convinced there's another wedding on the way!







Single Cowboy Seeks Perfect Match!

Rust Creek Ramblings

Everyone knows Rust Creek Falls is a good place to find love, but handsome ranching man Zach Dalton is not leaving anything to chance. His classified ad in the Rust Creek Falls Gazette has the whole town buzzing. The offer? No less than lifetime commitment...for the perfect pie-baking, domestically inclined long-haired bride.

One woman who definitely does not fit the job description is Gazette assistant editor Lydia Grant—curly-haired, independent and admittedly useless in the kitchen. Yet we here at the Gazette have seen definite sparks between the marriage-minded cowboy and the girl who is so not his “type.” Could Zach Dalton have already met his Mrs. Right? Clear your calendars, dear readers. We’re convinced there’s another wedding on the way!


“You’re trying out women the same way you would try on a pair of cowboy boots.”

“Well, she has to fit, doesn’t she?” Zach asked. “Just like a pair of boots need to fit. Otherwise I’d set the boots aside and never wear them. And I sure couldn’t do that to a woman. Not after I married her and then found out the fit was all wrong.”

Groaning, she looked up at the sky and shook her head. “I see. It’s not about the approach, but all about the fit.”

“Hey, you got it, Lydia! That’s exactly right. How is it that you understand me so well?”

She looked at him, a wan smile tilting her lips. “Just lucky, I guess.”

He reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m the one who’s lucky, Lydia. Lucky to have found a good friend like you.”

She eased her hand from his and quickly began gathering the leftovers of her lunch.

“We’d better be going, Zach. It’s time for me to get back to the office.”

A little stung by her abrupt attitude, he stared at her. “Lydia, did I say something wrong?”

Without looking at him, she rose to her feet. “No. You said everything right.”

Then why did he feel like the sky had just clouded over?

* * *

Montana Mavericks: The Great Family Roundup— Real cowboys and real love in Rust Creek Falls!


The Maverick’s Bride-to-Order

Stella Bagwell






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


After writing more than eighty books for Mills & Boon, STELLA BAGWELL still finds it exciting to create new stories and bring her characters to life. She loves all things Western and has been married to her own real cowboy for forty-four years. Living on the south Texas coast, she also enjoys being outdoors and helping her husband care for the horses, cats and dog that call their small ranch home. The couple has one son, who teaches high school mathematics and is also an athletics director. Stella loves hearing from readers. They can contact her at stellabagwell@gmail.com.


To all the editors and writers

who keep these great Montana Mavericks going.

Thank you for letting me be part of the fun!


Contents

Cover (#u0dea6530-c228-5682-ae66-626803881b5e)

Back Cover Text (#ud5d3929d-3d70-5074-b3ba-10f09cb8511d)

Introduction (#u11aeaad4-f098-52a7-bba1-81c0560fcc37)

Title Page (#u2ad2d7c6-b81c-514a-9dc9-2c6fe3154099)

About the Author (#u43238e8f-7e96-531f-b38a-306840cc9506)

Dedication (#u68347e68-02b1-5e64-aeb6-6bc1264e4054)

Chapter One (#u41cc967a-d61e-5862-a2f6-2bdf7c550f2c)

Chapter Two (#u134428e1-ad59-5ea9-b6d8-b00b7d3cfca8)

Chapter Three (#u5f8eec4d-30b6-5ee3-9acf-ab242e69ac22)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u2b0c58ab-9bfe-5341-83ea-416a7b901a49)

“You want to do what?”

Zach Dalton pushed back the brim of his black Stetson and leaned slightly toward the woman sitting on the opposite side of the cluttered desk. Long, curly hair created a brown cloud around her head while a pair of deep blue eyes stared at him with confusion.

Tightening the rein on his patience, Zach carefully repeated his request. “I want to put a classified ad in the paper. The wanted section to be more exact. Or does The Rust Creek Falls Gazette have a wanted section in its classifieds?”

“Look, Mr.—what is your name?” she asked, her pencil hovering above a small scratch pad.

“Dalton, ma’am. Zach Dalton.”

Her bare lips formed a perfectly pretty O, but Zach allowed himself to admire the sight for only a few seconds. He wasn’t about to let this dizzy woman distract him from his objective. Zach was on a mission. He knew exactly what he wanted and had already decided the best way to go about getting it.

“Dalton? Are you related to the other Daltons who live around here?” she asked.

“That’s right. There’s a bunch of us, ma’am. I’m related to all of them.”

The phone on the desk began to ring, and while she eyed it with an annoyed glare, a male voice in a back room yelled, “Are you asleep out there, Lydia? Pick up the damned phone!”

“Excuse me, Mr. Dalton. I’ll be with you in a moment,” she promised.

While she answered the phone, Zach turned and looked through a dusty plate glass window at North Main Street of downtown Rust Creek Falls, Montana. This early-September morning, the sun was shining warmly, kissing the changing leaves on the trees that grew at intervals along the concrete sidewalk. The slow, two-lane traffic was made even slower by a pair of big cattle trucks working their way to the main highway leading to Kalispell. With autumn weather soon coming, the ranchers were already sorting and selling, preparing for the long, cold months ahead.

Before Zach could let himself think about all the tragedy that had occurred back on his family ranch in Hardin, he heard the woman behind him speaking in an impatient voice.

“No. Not tonight. I have to go now, Mom. I have a customer. Bye.”

When he heard the phone click into place, Zach turned back to the desk to see the young woman, who appeared somewhere near his age, shoving away the tangle of curls falling about her face. She was wearing a green, loose-fitting T-shirt with the logo of some unknown rock band plastered across a pair of rounded breasts. Apparently the newspaper staff enjoyed a very relaxed dress code, Zach decided.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “Now if you’ll tell me again exactly what it is you want, I’ll see that your ad makes the next issue.”

His gaze dropped to the nameplate resting precariously on one corner of the crowded desk. “‘Lydia Grant. Assistant Manager,’” he read, then lifted a questioning glance to her. “Is that you?”

Her head made a quick bob, causing several curls to plop onto her forehead. “That’s me. Assistant manager is just one of my roles at the Gazette. I do everything around here. Including plumbing repair. You need a faucet installed?”

“Uh, no. I need a wife.”

The announcement clearly took her aback. “I thought I misheard you earlier. I guess I didn’t.”

Enjoying the look of dismay on her face, he gave her a lopsided grin. “Nope. You didn’t hear wrong. I want to advertise for a wife.”

Rolling the pencil between her palms, she eyed him with open speculation.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “You can’t get a wife the traditional way?”

As soon as Zach had made the decision to advertise for a bride, he’d expected to get this sort of reaction. He’d just not expected it from a complete stranger. And a female, at that.

“Sometimes it’s good to break from tradition. And I’m in a hurry.”

Something like disgust flickered in her eyes before she dropped her gaze to the scratch pad in front of her. “I see. You’re a man in a hurry. So give me your name, mailing address and phone number and I’ll help you speed up this process.”

She took down the basic information, then asked, “How do you want this worded? I suppose you do have requirements for your...bride?”

He drew up a nearby plastic chair and eased his long frame onto the seat. “Sure. I have a few. Where would you like to start?”

She looked up at him and chuckled as though she found their whole exchange ridiculous. Zach tried not to bristle. Maybe she didn’t think any of this was serious. But sooner or later Lydia Grant, and every citizen in Rust Creek Falls, would learn he was very serious about his search for a wife.

He hung his hat on his knee and raked a hand through his thick black hair. “Okay. Let’s start with her age. I’d like for her to be between twenty-two and twenty-five.”

“That sort of narrows things down, doesn’t it?” she asked as she quickly scribbled down the information.

“Well, since I’m twenty-seven, having my wife a few years younger would be best for me.”

“So you’re not attracted to older women?”

He frowned. “I’ve never dated an older woman. If that answers your question.”

She shot him a clever smile. “Too adventurous for you, I suppose.”

He should probably remind this woman that his personal preferences were none of her business. But she was so damned cute and quirky that he hated to come across like a jerk.

“Something like that,” he said. “As for other requirements, put down that she needs to be an excellent cook and homemaker. I love homemade pies and I hate messy houses.”

She began to write again. “You want that last sentence in the ad?”

“Uh, no. That was for your benefit. Just to explain,” he added.

She glanced up at him and he noticed the corners of her lips were curved into an impish smile. “No need to explain to me, Mr. Dalton. You’ll probably want to explain to the women who answer this ad, though. So are there any more conditions you require of your...applicants?”

She made the whole thing sound so calculated and sterile. It wasn’t going to be like that, Zach promised himself. When he started dating the right woman, he figured there would be plenty of fireworks to heat things up.

“Well, yes, there are more. It’s absolutely necessary that she loves kids.”

“Kids,” she repeated as she continued to rapidly write across the pad. “So you plan on having children with the woman who ends up meeting everything on your checklist?”

“She’ll be my wife. Naturally I plan to have children with her. And plenty of them, I might add.” He gestured to her notepad. “And you might as well add that she needs to get along with dogs and horses. No—change that line. She’ll need to love dogs and horses, just as much as she loves kids. I’m a rancher. So things would never work if the woman shied away from animals.”

“Dogs and horses. Got it.” She lifted those sparkling blue eyes back to his face. “Is there anything else? What about looks? Do they matter?”

Zach folded his arms against his chest. “I’m flexible. As long as she’s tall and willowy with long, straight hair, I’ll be satisfied.”

“I’ll say one thing, Mr. Dalton, you know what you want.”

“I like to think so, ma’am. You see, I’m a doer. I’m not one to wait around and watch the leaves fall off the trees before I decide to get ready for cold weather to hit.”

A sly smile curved her lips and Zach wondered what Lydia Grant might look like if she attempted to fix herself up. From the early morning sunlight streaming into the room, he could see there wasn’t a speck of makeup on her face and she’d made no effort to confine her unruly hair. It made him wonder if she’d overslept and not had time to stand in front of a mirror applying all the gooey, colorful stuff that made women look so fetching. Could be she was just the natural sort. Or maybe she was married and her husband preferred his wife to have a casual appearance.

In any case, it didn’t matter, Zach assured himself. Lydia Grant couldn’t be any further from his type. He liked girlie girls who wore dresses and lace and were all soft and feminine. This woman looked like she could easily help him build fences or round up cattle.

She tore the sheet of notes from the pad and placed it by the keyboard connected to a computer tower. “If you’ll give me a moment to figure this up, I’ll tell you the cost. How long would you like for the ad to run? A week? Two?”

He leaned forward and was surprised when he caught a faint whiff of perfume coming from her direction. It smelled like a particular flower. He didn’t know its name, but he recalled the scent emanating from his mother’s garden.

“Oh. I doubt a week will get the job done. Or even two. Better keep it up and running until I tell you to stop. I understand that will be more expensive. But in the long run it’ll be worth it,” he added with a wink.

She started to reply and the phone rang again. This time she let out a long breath and swiveled her chair so that she was facing an open doorway leading to the rear of the building.

“Curtis, get that, would you?” she practically yelled. “I’m with a customer!”

So much for intercom systems, Zach thought. He wanted to suggest that if money was that tight here at the newspaper, they might invest in two tin cans and a string to help with communication.

She turned the chair so that she was facing the computer. After she’d fed it a bunch of information, a printer situated on a table several feet away spit out a piece of paper. As she left her chair to retrieve it, Zach noticed she was medium height with curvy hips that filled out a pair of dark blue jeans. The brown ankle boots on her feet were the rugged hiking sort, instead of the pointy toe and high-heeled kind.

“All right, Mr. Dalton, your ad will run in each edition of the Gazette. I’ll have the typesetter outline it in a bold box so it will be noticed. This is the cost for three weeks,” she said, pushing the paper across the desk at him. “If you want it to run longer, just stop by the office and we’ll start again. Is that agreeable with you?”

He reached into the back pocket of his jeans for his wallet. Pulling out a debit card, he said, “Sounds great. I’m in town fairly often, so it won’t be a problem to stop by.”

He scanned his card and she handed him a receipt.

* * *

While Lydia watched him slip the item back into his wallet, it suddenly dawned on her that she’d forgotten to ask him for a photo.

Snapping her fingers, she exclaimed, “Gosh, I nearly forgot! Did you bring a photo of yourself to use in the ad?”

From the blank look on his face, she could see he’d not yet realized that he was actually advertising himself.

“A photo? Uh, no. I didn’t think about that.” He frowned. “Do you think a photo is necessary?”

Lydia fought hard to keep from laughing. Was this guy for real? Did he honestly not realize he was a walking dream?

“Trust me, Mr. Dalton. A woman wants to know what she’s getting. And a pic of you will show her—the outside part, that is.” She cast him an impish smile. “It’ll be up to you to show her the inside.”

Clearly deflated, he said, “I was planning on getting this project rolling today. I have my driver’s license photo. Will that do?”

“Those things always look like mug shots.” She opened a drawer on her desk and pulled out a digital camera. “If you’re not particular about the pose, I can snap one right here.”

“Right here? In this chair?”

Lydia couldn’t stop her chuckles. “I’m going to focus on your face. The background won’t matter much.”

He tucked the tail of his plaid Western shirt even deeper into his jeans, then tightened the string bolo tie until the tiger eye slide was pushed up against the collar. After combing fingers haphazardly through his black hair, he said, “Okay. Guess I’m ready.”

She studied his rugged features for a moment, then shook her head. “No. You’re missing something. Put your hat on. Your potential wife needs to see she’s getting a cowboy. Right?”

“Oh yeah. No chance of my profession ever changing. Not for any woman.” He skewered the black hat onto his head.

Lydia lifted the camera to her eye and tried not to let out a wistful sigh as she centered the lens on his handsome face. “That’s good. But a smile might help,” she suggested. “You don’t want to look grumpy.”

His lips spread into a dazzling smile and Lydia instantly pressed the button to capture the image. Then pressed it again to make sure she’d have at least one clear pic for the paper.

“That’s it for the photo. But there’s still one more detail,” she told him. “Do you want your name on the ad? And how do you want these potential wives to contact you? Phone? Email? Snail mail?”

“Hmm. That’s a question I’d not thought about,” Zach admitted. “I don’t have a personal computer—unless you count my smartphone. And I’d rather keep that email for private use. I’m not sure I want to field phone calls without having some sort of background on the woman first. That might get a little awkward.”

“Yes. Awkward might be the word,” she agreed.

He thoughtfully rubbed a finger along his jawbone. “I suppose that I could do the snail mail thing, but I share a post office box with other family members, including my dad. That might get a little—uh—uncomfortable.”

Lydia Grant nodded. “I don’t have a father—not one that counts, that is. But I have a mother. And if I started receiving correspondence from men, I wouldn’t want her to see it. That’s for sure.”

He looked at her as another idea struck him. “Would it be possible to have responders reply to me in care of the newspaper office? I’d be glad to pay extra for the service.”

Tilting her head to one side, she studied him thoughtfully. Then after a moment, she said, “It’s okay with me, but I can’t speak for my boss. Give me a minute and I’ll see what he thinks about the idea.”

“Fine. Plead my case for me, will you?”

Grinning, she shoved a fist in the air in a typical cheerleader gesture. “Three cheers for your marriage! I’ll do my best.”

* * *

A few years ago when the flood had hit Rust Creek Falls, Curtis Randall had been a young reporter working at a big-city newspaper. Like countless other media people, he’d traveled to the small town to cover the tragic event. For reasons Lydia had never learned, the man had hung around during the aftermath and somehow ended up assuming the job of managing editor of the Gazette.

At the time, the office space assigned to his position had resembled that of a hoarder. The room had been stacked with papers and books, archaic computers, monitors and keyboards, all of which had been shelved from service years ago. After the mess had been carted from the building, Curtis had quickly turned the space into a bare, sanitized space that always made Lydia think she was stepping into a hospital room instead of her boss’s office.

As for the man himself, he would definitely be a cutie if he’d ditch the cardigan and black-rimmed glasses and let his sandy-blond hair get a little mussed. But in spite of his nerdish fashion choices, Lydia found him easy to work with, and that was the most important thing to her.

Rapping on the frame of the open door, she asked, “Got a minute, Curtis?”

Scowling, he looked up from the latest edition of the Gazette. No doubt he’d been reading the op-ed, a piece he took great pains in writing himself.

“Sure. What’s up?”

She made her way to his desk. “There’s a man in the main office putting an ad for a wife in the classifieds. He wants to know if responders can contact him via the newspaper. He says he’ll be glad to pay extra for the bother.”

His brows pulled together. “That’s rather an unusual request, isn’t it? Especially for such a personal advertisement.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “If you ask me, the whole thing is more than unusual. It’s downright weird. But it takes all kinds, I suppose. And we’re in business to make money.”

“True,” he agreed. “But it might turn out to be more of a nuisance than it’s worth. Is this man a local? Someone we know?”

“He’s one of the Dalton gang,” she told him. “I’ve never met him before, but I got the impression he’s new in town. I’ll make a prediction, though. This guy is going to get the paper plenty of attention. And we could certainly use all the free publicity we can get.”

Unimpressed by her positive forecast, he waved a dismissive hand at her. “What makes you think he’ll cause extra readers to pick up the paper?”

Probably because just looking at the guy was enough to give a woman a heart attack. When the single women around here learned he was looking for a bride, all hell was going to break loose, Lydia thought.

To Curtis, she said in the most nonchalant voice she could muster, “He’s a cool-looking cowboy. The women around here go gaga for his sort.”

Still frowning, he tilted back his office chair. “Are you still asleep this morning, Lydia? This is Rust Creek Falls, Montana. You can find his brand on either side of the street every day of the week. But—” Seeing she was about to argue, he held up a hand to stop her words before she could get them out. “If you’re willing to deal with the extra work of handling the responses to the ad, then I don’t care.”

A part of Lydia wanted to let out a squeal and dance a happy jig, while the more reserved part of her wondered if she was taking on a huge mess. The only thing she knew about Zach Dalton was that he had a smile that could melt a snowdrift and the type of woman he was looking for in a wife couldn’t have been more opposite Lydia.

Tall and willowy? With her chin up and her shoulders back, she might be considered average height. And her build was more lush than willowy. As for the long, straight hair... Her mane could be long if she spent hours ironing out the curls that caused it to spring up several inches shorter than its natural length.

No, she decided, Zach Dalton would never look at her as a potential bride. But he might like her as a friend. And since Lydia was a woman who knew her limitations, being friends with the man would be enough for her.

“Thanks, Curtis. I’ll go tell him and get everything set up.” She tossed him a clever grin as she turned to leave the office. “You’re not going to regret this decision.”

Snorting, he reached for his coffee cup. “That’s right, I won’t. But you might.”

Biting her tongue, Lydia hurried back out to the main lobby, where her desk was located, and found Zach Dalton still sitting in the plastic chair where she’d left him.

Even before she gave him Curtis’s verdict, he smiled at her and Lydia could only wonder why some woman hadn’t snagged him before now. And what in the world had pushed him to the point of advertising for a wife? It didn’t make sense to her, but then Zach Dalton’s love life was none of her business.

“Good news, Mr. Dalton, Curtis is agreeable to your suggestion. So I’ll have the ad direct all interested females to send their correspondence here to the paper. You’ll be welcome to pick them up as they come in.”

“That is good news. Thanks. And please call me Zach. We’ll probably be seeing each other a few more times in the coming days.”

“Sure, Zach. And you can call me Lydia.”

He reached across the desk to shake her hand and Lydia complied by sliding her palm against his. The skin on his hand was tough and his grip said he didn’t do anything in half measures. No milksop, drugstore cowboy here, she thought.

He released her hand and settled back in the chair. “Okay, Lydia. Nice to meet you. Are you a native of Rust Creek Falls?”

“I am. All of my twenty-eight years have been spent right here. Except for the time I was at college in Butte, that is.”

“So I suppose you were here during the big flood?”

She plucked a pencil from a can and began to turn it end over end. But it soon dawned on her that her fidgeting might give him the idea he was making her nervous. She tossed down the pencil and tried to look as casual as possible.

“I was living here during the flood,” she told him. “It was a horrible time. And the damage was devastating for everyone in the area. But the town has rebuilt itself and that’s helped to smooth away the scars.”

“Yeah. The rebuilding has been good for everyone,” he agreed. “I only moved here in July. With Dad and my four brothers. Right now all six of us are living with Uncle Charles and Aunt Rita out on their ranch, the Circle D. Until we find a place of our own, that is. These past few months I’ve been getting reacquainted with all my relatives that live around Rust Creek Falls. And I’m learning new faces around town. See, I’ve met you today,” he added with a grin.

Normally at this time of the morning, the phone was ringing off its hook. Mostly from townsfolk reporting weird incidents that had happened overnight. Some even called to gripe about the prices in the grocery store ads, as if the newspaper decided what food items should cost. But since Zach Dalton had strolled into the office it had rung only twice. Wonder of wonders, she thought.

She tossed him a perky smile. “Most of us folks in Rust Creek Falls are the friendly sort. So what brought you to the area, Mr. Dalton? Your relatives told you about the Gal Rush that took place three or four years ago and you thought some of those ladies were still hanging around looking for a husband?”

A wide grin spread over his face and Lydia felt her heart do a little stutter step. His dark, rugged looks were the kind that women swooned over. And once the paper announced this man was searching for a bride, she figured there was going to be all kinds of swooning going on. Was the man clueless? Hadn’t he learned by now that a little crook of his finger was enough to get the women flocking to his side? He hardly needed a newspaper ad! But selling ads was a part of her job, she reminded herself. She might as well take his money and let him suffer the consequences.

“Could be,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I’ve been told this place is full of beautiful women looking for husbands. And how people have come to this town from near and far searching for their one true love. From the stories I’ve heard, a bunch of weddings have taken place in the past few years.”

Lydia chuckled. “That’s true. But most folks attribute that overload of weddings and babies to Homer Gilmore spiking the punch with moonshine. Drinking that stuff made everyone in town look like a desirable catch. There were so many babies born after that incident that more doctors had to be recruited to town just to take care of the overloaded maternity ward.”

He laughed. “Well, I’m not going to rely on anyone spiking the punch again. The way I see it, there’s something about Rust Creek Falls that makes people open their hearts. I’m confident I’m going to find the right woman.”

One that made delicious pies and kept the house spotless while raising a passel of kids. Along with making sure the straightening iron was always hot so that a stray curl in her hair never appeared. Was this guy for real?

He certainly looked real and then some, Lydia thought. In fact, he was a modern-day cowboy dream. But she’d hate to think she had to live up to his standards of a wife. Lydia’s pies were purchased from a bakery, and if she left dirty dishes in the sink overnight, she didn’t take a trip down guilty lane. As for her hair, her time was too precious to waste standing in front of a mirror trying to make herself look like someone she wasn’t. No, if she was ever crazy enough to get herself hooked up with a man, he’d have to take her as is.

She gave him the cheeriest smile she could muster. Even though he was going about finding a wife in all the wrong ways, she still liked him and wished him well. “I’m positive you’ll find her. And with a new edition of the paper coming out tomorrow morning, you might meet her sooner than you think.”

Rising to his feet, he said, “Thank you, Lydia. I appreciate your help.”

“You’re quite welcome. And I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other,” she said, then added, “When you stop by for your mail, that is.”

“Oh yeah, my mail. Let’s hope I get some,” he said with an outrageous wink of one blue eye. “Goodbye for now, Lydia. And thanks again.”

With a parting smile, he strolled out of the office and through the glass door leading to the sidewalk.

Lydia watched him walk to the corner of the intersection, where he waited for the light to change. After he sprinted across the busy street and disappeared behind a row of vehicles, she let out a long sigh, then followed it with a muttered curse word.

How stupid could she get? Time after time her mother had warned her that marriage wasn’t worth the trouble. For years, she’d watched her mother work two jobs just to keep them housed and fed. No, her mother was right, Lydia thought. A man couldn’t be depended on for financial security. Most of all he couldn’t be depended on for love. So she needed to quit dreaming about Zach Dalton and his quest for a bride. Instead, she needed to be thankful she wasn’t his type. In the long run it would save her a broken heart.


Chapter Two (#u2b0c58ab-9bfe-5341-83ea-416a7b901a49)

“I’ve never seen anything so ridiculous in my life! Advertising for a wife! Who ever heard of such a thing?”

Phillip Dalton tossed the newspaper aside and glanced down the long dinner table until his disapproving gaze landed on his second-youngest son.

Zach tried not to squirm in his chair. Not with his four brothers, two cousins, and an aunt and uncle looking on. “Dad, advertising for a wife isn’t a new concept. Back in the eighteen hundreds during the gold rush days, lots of men used the mail-order-bride system.”

Phillip shook his head with dismay. “That’s right, son. But those men were miles from civilization. They were desperate!”

Across the table, Zach’s brother Garrett let out a smug chuckle. “Zach is desperate, Dad!”

Phillip’s stern expression grew darker. “I realize everything is fun and games to you, Garrett. But this isn’t a laughing matter.”

“Oh, leave the boys alone, Phillip. Zach knows what he wants. He’s just going after it in a different way than you and I did.”

Phillip shot his brother Charles an annoyed look. “Damned right it’s different. You and I did it the traditional way. We fell in love.”

Zach purposely shoveled a forkful of roast beef into his mouth to stop himself from saying something to his father he might later regret.

Next to him, Shawn, the baby of the family, spoke up in his brother’s defense. “Well, I think Zach’s idea is a darned good one. It’s a way for him to meet women who are interested in marriage. He can always worry about falling in love later.”

“Thank you, Shawn,” Zach told him.

Garrett said, “That’s right, Shawn. And maybe Zach will be kind enough to give us some of his leftover telephone numbers.”

At the end of the table, Phillip’s expression turned to stone, while the only female at the table nervously cleared her throat and rose to her feet.

“I think it’s time for dessert,” Rita suggested. “Apple cobbler tonight. Maybe that will put everybody in a good mood.”

Later that night, in the bedroom he shared with his older brother, Zach studied his ad in the fresh edition of the Gazette. His picture looked okay, he supposed. At least his eyes were open and there were no specks of food in his teeth. But he’d be the first to admit his expression was a bit goofy. Like he’d had one too many strong margaritas.

Maybe that was because Lydia Grant had left him a little dazed. Although the woman had seemed warm and friendly, he’d gotten the impression she’d believed his “wife wanted” advertisement was foolish. And that had gotten a bit under Zach’s skin. He couldn’t put his finger on why it had bothered him. Especially when she was clearly a person who followed a different drummer. Her opinion of him shouldn’t matter one way or the other.

So why had he been wondering if the newspaper woman was married or engaged? Why couldn’t he forget about all that curly brown hair or impish smile that tilted her lips and sparked her blue eyes?

“What’s wrong, brother? Having buyer’s remorse?”

As his brother and roommate, Booker, strolled into the room, Zach tossed the paper onto the nightstand.

“I can’t have buyer’s remorse. I haven’t bought anything yet,” Zach reminded him.

Shaking his head, Booker sat down on the opposite twin bed. “You bought an ad. One that you believe will buy you a wife. That’s what I’m talking about.”

Groaning, Zach stretched out on his own bed and stared up at the ceiling. The textured plaster was better than looking at his brother’s know-it-all face. Not that he didn’t love Booker. Zach loved all of his family deeply. But so far none of them seemed to really understand where he was coming from. And being five years older than him, Booker had a tendency to always tell him what to do and how to do it.

“I didn’t hear you spouting off at the dinner table,” Zach said. “Are you in Dad’s court, too?”

Bending over, Booker began to tug off his cowboy boots. “Not exactly. You have to admit your plan to get a wife is a little unorthodox, but that’s your choice. Not Dad’s or anyone else’s.”

Encouraged by his brother’s fair-minded attitude, Zach sat up on the side of the bed and looked at him. “I tell you, Booker, I was really surprised by Dad’s reaction. He’s usually open-minded about things.”

Booker set his boots aside and began to unbutton his shirt. “This is different for Dad, Zach. He and Mom were crazy in love up until the day she died. They had something really special together and he wants that same thing for you. And for all of his sons.”

Zach swallowed hard in an effort to dislodge the hot ball of emotion stuck in his throat. Losing his mother in the wildfire that had swept over their family ranch up in Hardin in January was still so fresh he could hardly bear the pain.

“Yeah. Well, that’s exactly why I’m doing this, Booker,” he said in a raw, husky voice. “For a long time now I’ve wanted to have a marriage like our parents had. And for just as long, I’ve been going the traditional route—dating and waiting and hoping to meet a woman I’d fall in love with. But that just hasn’t happened. Hell, I’m even beginning to wonder if love means the same thing to me as it does to other guys.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Zach made a palms-up gesture. “As far as I’m concerned, just having a wife who cooked and cleaned and gave me babies would be enough to satisfy me.”

With a look of disgust, Booker tossed his shirt to the end of the narrow bed. “I can’t see that ever working. Not for me. I’m not exactly looking for a wife, but I can tell you one thing. I’d want her to love me. And only me. Otherwise, the whole thing would be meaningless.”

So Booker had the same opinion as his cousins, who’d been busily sending him text messages since his advertisement had hit the newspaper stands. All of them believed he should be thinking about falling in love first and acquiring a wife later. But that was easy for his cousins to say, Zach mentally argued. Most of them were engaged or already married. Their worries of finding a special woman were over.

Groaning, Zach raked fingers through his dark hair, then flopped onto his back. “You don’t understand, Booker. Nobody seems to. But the way I see it, time is flying by. I don’t want to keep waiting around hoping I’ll meet some girl that puts a goofy look on my face.”

“You mean like the one you’re sporting in the newspaper photo?”

Zach’s first instinct was to sit straight up and tell his brother to go jump in the river, but he stopped himself short. He didn’t want to give Booker the idea that he was trying to hide the fact that someone had already put the look of love on his face.

“I never take a good picture.” Especially when quirky Lydia had been chattering on about what a woman liked in a man. Was she a specialist on the subject? Maybe the next time he visited the newspaper office, Zach ought to ask her that very question, he thought.

Linking his hands at the back of his head, Booker stretched out on the bed. “I can understand you wanting to get married and move out on your own. As much as I love Uncle Charles and Aunt Rita, I’m getting tired of being cramped up like this. The house is about to burst at the seams. We don’t have much privacy and neither do they.”

Zach sighed. “You need to remember the reason we came here in the first place. Sure, we rebuilt Dalton’s Gulch after the wildfire, but we ended up selling it. The place didn’t feel the same without Mom. Especially for Dad. He was grieving so much I was getting concerned about his health. I think we could all see that he needed the support of family. More than just we boys could give him. It’s been good for him to be living here with Uncle Charles and Uncle Ben.”

“Good point, brother. And he has been searching for property so that we can build our own ranch again. In the meantime, I guess we should just be happy he isn’t sitting in a dark room staring at the wall.”

“Right,” Zach replied. “I only hope his anger over my newspaper ad dies down. I hate it when Dad is disappointed in me.”

Booker let out a sleepy grunt. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Zach. I figure by tomorrow Dad will have his mind back on cattle and hay and land. And he’ll have forgotten all about your desperate quest for a wife.”

Zach sat up and reached to pull off his boots. “Desperate? You got it wrong, brother. I’m determined.”

“The way I see it,” Booker said in a drowsy voice, “you’re living in a dreamworld. But I figure there’s a woman out there somewhere who’s going to come along and shake you awake. And when that happens, you’re going to think you’ve grabbed a bull by its tail.”

Booker knew all about bulls. At ten years of age, he’d believed he was big enough to ride one. As a result, he was still sporting a limp from a badly broken leg. But as far as Zach knew, Booker was hardly an authority on love or women. He couldn’t predict Zach’s future love life any more than he could predict the Montana weather.

* * *

In a pair of yellow cotton pajamas, Lydia was sitting cross-legged on the couch as she stared in disbelief at her laptop. Only one day had passed since Zach Dalton had strolled into the Gazette office and placed his ad for a wife. But already the inbox on her work email was inundated with messages for the man. She’d had a feeling the response to his ad was going to be big. She’d just not estimated how big.

Scrolling to the latest message to come in, Lydia opened it and began to read.

Dear Zach,

I’m twenty-two years old and can cook a mean apple pie. I have a German shepherd named Fritz and a horse named Hula Hoop. Once I’m married, my plan is to have several children, so I truly think we’d be a perfect match. Please call.

There was a photo attached, and as Lydia stared at the beautiful young face, she felt both sick and sad. There was no doubt that Zach was going to be happy with this bridal candidate. She had the smoothest, straightest blond hair that Lydia had ever seen. Plus a pair of full pouty lips and big brown eyes. How could he not like this woman?

Her silent question was interrupted by a faint knock on the door. Since it was getting close to ten, Lydia couldn’t imagine who would be stopping by.

Leaving the couch, she glanced through the peephole to see her mother standing on the small square of concrete that served as her porch. Rhoda Grant was bundled in a hooded sweatshirt and held a plastic container of food with both hands.

Lydia quickly opened the door. “Mom! What are you doing out so late?”

“Hello to you, too,” she said as she stepped into the small living room. “I happened to be on my way home and thought I’d drop off some extra spaghetti we had left over from the dinner the women’s club put on tonight. The funds we made will go to the flood relief. You know there are still parts of town that need to be restored.”

At fifty years old, Rhoda could’ve been a very attractive woman. Her complexion was still smooth and her brown hair held only a few threads of gray. But instead of trying to look her best, Rhoda didn’t care that her waistline had thickened and her face was as colorless as a sheet of printer paper. The few times Lydia had brought up Rhoda’s appearance, she’d promptly told her daughter to take a good hard look and store the memory away. Because Lydia would look the same way if she ever allowed herself to believe a man’s lies.

Rhoda handed the container to Lydia, then noticed she was already dressed in pajamas. “Were you getting ready for bed?”

“Not yet. Just making myself comfortable.” On her way to the kitchen, Lydia shut the laptop so that her mother couldn’t peek at the screen. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No. I can only stay a minute. My shift has changed at the nursing home. I go in at seven in the morning now, so I don’t like to be up late.”

For years, Rhoda had worked odd, mostly menial jobs as a cook or waitress, until finally she’d managed to study and become a practical nurse. Although the nursing home in Kalispell where she worked required a twenty-five-minute drive one way from Rust Creek Falls, the pay was much better and her mother seemed to like it. Which was saying a lot, since Rhoda was the type of person who didn’t find much happiness in anything.

“Surely you can sit down for a minute or two,” Lydia called over her shoulder as she shoved the container on the top shelf of the refrigerator.

“How’s work going?” she asked as she returned to the living room to see her mother had made herself comfortable in the only armchair in the room.

“Same as usual,” Rhoda said. “Snow Valley has gotten a new entertainment director and she’s been brightening the place up with music and movies and games.”

Careful to set the laptop aside, Lydia sank down on the end cushion of the couch. “That’s good. The residents need something enjoyable to do.”

Rhoda let out a weary sigh. “One of these days I’ll be just like the residents of Snow Valley. Too helpless to take care of myself and nothing left in life but a few faded dreams.”

“Mother! Would you stop it! You make it sound like the end of your days is almost here. You’re being ridiculous.”

Rhoda sighed again. “You don’t understand, Lydia. You won’t until you lose something that’s precious to you.”

Rhoda was never guilty of being a positive person. And most of the time she was full of self-pity, but she usually wasn’t this morbid and Lydia had little patience for the unwarranted attitude.

“Look, Mom, you’re still relatively young and you’re healthy. If you truly wanted it, you could have a very full life. You just need to make changes. The first one being to put a smile on your face.”

Rhoda scowled. “Smile? When I think of what your father—”

“Yes, Mom, I’ve heard a thousand times how he just up and walked out on you and me. Well, you know what? I’m not going to waste my energy or my life wondering about what he did then or what he’s doing now. You’ve got to forget it and move on.”

“Well, you’d best not forget what a man can do to a woman’s life,” she retorted. “Otherwise, you’ll be in the same boat as your mother.”

If Lydia tried her hardest she could never be like Rhoda Grant. “You mean miserable and old before your time?”

Rhoda gasped with outrage. “Lydia! That’s an awful thing to say!”

Jumping from the couch, Lydia sat on the arm of her mother’s chair and gave her a tight hug. “It is awful, Mom,” Lydia agreed. “Because it’s the truth. And I’m saying it to open your eyes. Because I love you. And I want you to be happy. Truly happy.”

Shaking her head with surrender, Rhoda pushed a hand through her short, curly hair. “I know that’s what you want for me, honey. But I—well, after Leonard walked out, my heart turned to stone. I don’t know how to change it. Or make it different.”

Lydia stared at her mother, amazed that for the first time she could ever remember, Rhoda was admitting she had a problem.

Reaching for her mother’s hand, Lydia rubbed her fingers over the back of it. “I think you just made a big start in that direction, Mom.”

Rhoda pressed Lydia’s hand to her cheek. “You are my one bright spot, Lydia.” Looking up at her daughter, she smiled wanly. “It’s getting late. I need to get on home.”

Lydia rose from the arm of the chair and Rhoda started to stand, then paused.

“Oh, before I go, someone at work happened to bring in a copy of The Rust Creek Falls Gazette and I heard a few of the women on staff talking about an ad they saw in the classifieds. Something about one of those new Dalton boys advertising for a wife. Is the ad supposed to be a joke or what?”

Lydia shook her head. “The man is completely serious, Mom. He wants a wife and thinks that’s the best way to go about getting one. Frankly, I think the whole thing is ridiculous, but it’s not my business to stick my nose in a customer’s personal life.”

Shaking her head with dismay, Rhoda stood and started toward the door. “I don’t know what’s come over this town. It’s like some of them are still drunk on Homer’s punch. Especially the Daltons. All of a sudden Travis gets himself engaged and gets on a ridiculous reality TV show. Now another one advertises for a wife. Makes you wonder what’s going on with that family.”

Even though Lydia agreed that Zach’s search for a wife was not taking the normal route, she wasn’t willing to call him either strange or wrong.

“Some folks just have different ideas, Mom. And Zach seems like a very nice guy. Not the weird sort.”

With her hand on the doorknob, she looked at Lydia. “Don’t tell me you’re going to sigh over the guy. All day at work, the young nurses were going on and on about how dreamy he looked in the photo and all the sacrifices they’d make just to have one date with the man. It was all so silly and sickening. I hope you’re smart enough not to make a fool of yourself over the man.”

A strange little pang of regret touched a spot inside Lydia, but she carefully hid it with a casual laugh. “Oh, Mom, that’s the last thing you need to worry about. Zach Dalton would never take a look at me. And even if he did, I wouldn’t want a man who plans to choose a wife on how well she can cook.”

Seemingly satisfied that she had no reason to worry about her daughter, Rhoda opened the door. “That’s my girl.”

Lydia walked over and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Bye, Mom.”

“Good night, honey.”

Her mother stepped outside and Lydia quickly locked the door behind her, then turned back to the empty living room.

I hope you’re smart enough not to make a fool of yourself over the man.

Her mother had spoken the words in all sincerity and that had made them all the more painful. Maybe it was true that no matter the reality, mothers viewed their children as beautiful. But even Rhoda should be able to see that her daughter wasn’t the sort that men were attracted to. When a man looked at Lydia, he wasn’t inspired with thoughts of babies and matrimony. No, she was the sort a man wanted on his softball team. She was the buddy he wanted to share a beer with and share his troubles about his real girlfriend.

Hating herself for having such self-pitying thoughts, Lydia walked over to an oval mirror hanging on the wall and stared at her pale image.

Was she just as guilty as her mother about giving up and giving in? What would happen if she tried to doll up her tomboyish image? Everyone in Rust Creek Falls would probably laugh and point and say she was trying to be something she could never be.

Turning away from the mirror, Lydia sat back down on the couch and opened the laptop. The screen had gone black, but once she instructed the computer to wake up, the endless emails to Zach Dalton popped into view.

As she began to read the mushy lines, pleading for a chance to become Zach’s bride, she promised herself that someday she would meet a man who would love her just for being her and no other reason. And until that day happened, she wasn’t going to fret about Zach Dalton and his endless female admirers.

* * *

As soon as Zach had finished his allotted share of the morning chores on the Circle D, he didn’t bother changing clothes. He jumped in his truck just as he was and drove straight to Rust Creek Falls and the Gazette office.

When he stepped through the door, a bell above his head jangled and he looked across the wide space to where Lydia Grant’s desk was situated. At the moment she was busy with a customer. A tall, older man with a bald head and an unlit cigar protruding from the corner of his mouth.

“This will take care of it, Mr. Tuttle. Your subscription is paid up for two years and will be delivered to your post office box.”

“You don’t plan on going up on the price between now and then, do you? I don’t want to have to come back in here and give you more money,” the man said bluntly. “I’m getting sick and tired of all the businesses around town going up on prices. They like to use the flood as an excuse, but if you ask me, it’s just downright greed.”

Zach didn’t know how Lydia did it, but she gave the customer a bright, easy smile. “Don’t worry, Mr. Tuttle. Once your subscription is paid in advance, that’s it. You won’t be charged more.”

“Darned good thing,” he muttered, then snatched the receipt from her hand.

As he stalked toward the door, Lydia called out cheerfully, “Thank you, Mr. Tuttle. And be sure to tell your lovely wife hello.”

The customer acknowledged her with a faint grunt before he walked out the door. As Zach watched him go, it was all he could do not to grab him up by the collar and toss him onto the sidewalk. But Zach was a gentleman and had been taught to respect his elders, no matter how rude they chose to be.

When the door closed behind the man, Zach sauntered over to her desk.

“Nice guy,” he said with wry sarcasm.

She laughed. “If he didn’t have something bad to say, he’d be silent. How his wife deals with him is a mystery to me.” She leaned back in her chair and gave him a bright smile. “So how is your day going? Ready for your mail?”

Zach felt his cheeks go warm. Even though he believed in what he was doing, there was something about Lydia that made him question his strategy. “That’s why I stopped by. To see if anyone had replied to the ad.”

She gestured toward the hard plastic chair in front of her desk. “Have a seat and I’ll grab everything for you.”

Zach eased his lanky frame into the chair and watched her walk over to a row of file cabinets lined against the back wall. Today she was dressed basically the same as yesterday, he noted as his gaze swept up and down her sexy figure. The only difference today was an army-green vest zipped over her white T-shirt.

“I’ve printed out all the emails that have come in so far, but since I’ve not looked in the past hour, there could be more. And you’ll also find a few letters that were hand delivered here to the office.” She placed a stack of correspondence in front of him. “That should give you a good start on your endeavor.”

Zach was amazed. “All of this stuff? It’s only been one day! I wasn’t expecting this sort of reaction.”

Her blue eyes twinkled with something like comical disbelief. “Are you for real?”

“Excuse me?”

Shaking her head, she said, “Sorry. I—Well, I’m getting the idea that you’re not prepared for what you’re getting into. When it comes to eligible bachelors around here, women are piranhas. I’m fairly certain you’re going to be swarmed with hopeful females.”

His gaze dropped to the stack of correspondence. From the looks of it, Lydia could be right. But he felt certain he could filter through them in an intelligent way until he landed on the woman of his dreams. “I think I can handle it.”

She started to say something when a tall redhead somewhere in her early thirties appeared through the open doorway leading to the back of the office building.

“Sorry I’m a little late, Lydia. Tack on another ten minutes to your lunch hour. I’ll handle things here.”

The woman acknowledged Zach with a nod of her head, then suddenly seeming to recognize him, she walked over and offered her hand.

“You’re the one! The man advertising for a wife!”

Zach shook her hand. “That’s right. I’m Zach Dalton.”

“I’m Jolene Sanders. I work in Proofing. I just want to tell you I think it’s great to finally see a man being honest about what he wants in a woman before he ever ties the knot.”

Behind Jolene’s shoulder, he could see Lydia rolling her eyes.

“Are you married, Ms. Sanders?”

She smirked. “Divorced. That’s why I like your style. I only wished I’d known what was on my ex’s mind before I ever married him. The wedding would’ve never taken place.”

Lydia lifted a lightweight jacket off a standing coatrack. After tossing it over her arm, she stepped around the desk.

“I’m off. See you in an hour,” she said to Jolene, then cast Zach a perky smile. “Nice to see you again, Zach. Happy hunting to you.”

She started out the front door, and before Zach realized his own intentions, he grabbed up the pile of correspondence and hurried after her.

“Lydia! Wait up!”

She paused on the sidewalk and looked back at him. “Did you need something else?” she called out.

He needed his head examined. That was what he needed. But he’d worry about that later.

Trotting up to her, he tried not to stutter. “I, uh, overheard you say you’re going to lunch.”

“That’s right. I usually go at twelve. Someone has to take over the front desk while I’m away. And Jolene would rather eat later.”

The bright sunshine gave her skin a golden sort of glow and made her blue eyes sparkle even more. The evocative scent he’d noticed the first day he’d met her drifted around him like a warm, hazy day. Zach didn’t understand it, but something about her just naturally perked his spirits. And since the wildfire, his mother’s death and the family’s move here to Rust Creek Falls, he needed to grab what little pleasures he could find.

“I see. Well, would you like some company? I’ve not eaten since very early this morning. A hamburger would sure go down good right about now.”

Surprise flickered across her face and then she happily looped her arm through his. “A burger sounds great to me. There’s a nice little place just around the block,” she said, pointing behind them to a side street that crossed Main.

“Works for me. My truck is parked right down here. I’ll lock my mail in the cab and we’ll be on our way.”

The weather had turned cooler overnight, and as they walked, Zach helped her into the jacket she’d carried. The leaves on the trees growing out of dirt squares in the sidewalk were beginning to turn to shades of yellow and red. In the far distance the mountain peaks were still shaded in green, but it wouldn’t be long before white caps of snow would remind everyone of the long winter months to come.

“It’s cool today, but beautiful,” she exclaimed as her jaunty walk kept up with his longer strides. “I love this time of year. When the air turns brisk and the fall is just around the corner. I start getting visions of hot chocolate and pumpkin pie. Not necessarily together, that is.”

“Are you a good cook?” She was still holding on to his arm as though it was a natural thing and Zach realized he liked her easy manner. A man wouldn’t have to pretend to be perfect around this woman, he decided.

“Are you interviewing me as a candidate for your wife?” she asked with a saucy laugh.

Zach felt himself blushing. He would never see Lydia as wife material. Not when she was the absolute opposite of the kind of woman he wanted. “No. Just curious.”

“Okay, Mr. Curious. I can’t cook. But I can open cans and pop things into the microwave.”

She obviously didn’t wear pretty lace or have straight hair, either. But that hardly mattered to Zach. He wasn’t taking her out for a hamburger because he wanted to marry her. He simply wanted a bit of company for lunch.

“That’s about all I can do, too,” he said. “So we’re even with the cooking.”

Laughing, she said, “Yes, but we don’t have much else in common. In fact, you’re not like anyone I’ve ever been friends with.”

He glanced down at her. ”I don’t think I’ve known anybody quite like you, either. But we do have one thing in common and that’s The Rust Creek Falls Gazette. I need the newspaper to help me find a wife. And it’s your job to sell ads. So we’re helping each other.”

“Hmm. You’re right. Finding you a wife is our common ground. Let’s hope we succeed.”

He grinned at her. “Right now I’d be happy to get a good lunch.”

She chuckled. “I might not be able to find you a wife, or even cook, but I can promise you a good meal. Follow me.”


Chapter Three (#u2b0c58ab-9bfe-5341-83ea-416a7b901a49)

A short distance down the next street, Lydia guided him to a stop in front of a redbrick building with the words Gold Rush Diner painted on the plate glass front.

“Here we are. It’s small, but good,” she promised.

“Where did the name Gold Rush come from? Was gold ever taken out of this area?”

“Not that I’m aware of. But I suppose anything might have happened back in the eighteen hundreds before the area was settled. Why do you ask? Are you thinking about prospecting for gold?” she asked impishly.

“The only thing I’m searching for is a wife,” he told her. “And hopefully, that’ll be easier than finding a vein of gold.”

Zach opened the door and above their heads the rattle of a cowbell announced their arrival.

Several of the red vinyl booths were already taken with early lunch diners, but they managed to find one in the back of the room, not far from the kitchen.

As Lydia settled herself on the bench seat and removed her coat, she could feel several sets of eyes turning in their direction. No doubt some of them had recognized Zach from the classified ad and were curious about him. Others were probably wondering what a plain Jane like her was doing with a walking dream like him.

Lydia was wondering the same thing.

When Zach had approached her on the sidewalk, the last thing she’d been expecting was for him to ask her to lunch. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. She only knew it would be foolish to think it might mean more than a friendly offer.

Zach sniffed as he removed his hat and placed it next to him on the seat. “Something smells good.”

Lydia chuckled. “I think that’s called fried food.”

He grinned and Lydia’s heart fluttered in spite of herself.

“Why is it that the things we want the most are the things that are bad for us?” he asked.

He was a prime example of one of those bad things, Lydia thought. Just sitting there with him was messing with her mind and making her heart do ridiculous acrobatics.

“I don’t know. But if I could figure it out, I might be able to stop my chocolate habit.” Resting her forearms on the edge of the table, she leaned slightly toward him. “So tell me—what did your family think about your ad?”

He shrugged. “Well, after they ribbed me about it, my brothers mostly thought it was ingenious. Unfortunately my dad didn’t see it that way. He’s rather disappointed in my strategy to find a wife. I’m hoping as time goes by he’ll quit lecturing and mellow about the idea.”

She could see that his father’s lack of support troubled him. Lydia could only wonder what it was like to have a father who even bothered to pick up the phone and say hello or drop a birthday card in the mail. At least Zach’s father cared enough to voice an opinion on his son’s future.

“I imagine he wants you to take the customary route,” she suggested.

A frown pulled his dark brows together, and as Lydia’s gaze slid over his handsome face, she figured there were already countless females who’d been sighing over his photo and plotting to become his wife. Poor guy, he was in for a bumpy ride. Unless this business of searching for a wife was just a ruse to create a dating pool for himself.

No. Lydia didn’t want to think Zach was that calculating. As far as she could tell, there didn’t seem to be a conniving bone in his body. But, according to her mother, every man had his own selfish agenda.

“Right,” Zach said with an emphatic nod. “But I’m twenty-seven. I’ve been dating ever since high school and not one woman has ever felt like she was the perfect fit for me. Frankly, I’m tired of waiting.”

Lydia was a year older than him and still single, but she wasn’t pushing the panic button. Yet.

She was about to tell him that being in a hurry might not be wise, but before she could think how to word it in a sensitive way, a young, wiggly waitress with long black hair approached their booth.

Her entire attention on Zach, the woman placed two menus onto the table. Flashing a suggestive grin at him, she said, “Hi. How’s it going?”

He smiled back at the waitress and Lydia wondered what he was thinking about all that long, straight hair. Maybe he was getting the idea that the tight apron she was wearing meant she was great in the kitchen. Or the bed. Either thought made Lydia a little sick to her stomach.

“It’ll be going great as soon as we can get our lunch,” Lydia spoke up.

The waitress shot her an annoyed look before settling a dreamy-eyed stare on Zach. “Aren’t you the guy in the newspaper? The one taking applications for a wife?”

His face a little red, Zach shifted around on the seat. “I’m the guy,” he admitted. “But the application part—I wouldn’t exactly put it that way.”

“He’s taking résumés,” Lydia said, hoping her cheery smile didn’t look as phony as it felt. “And the one that has all the right answers wins the prize.”

“Oh,” the waitress mumbled uncertainly. “I’m not good at résumés.”

Zach shot an annoyed look at Lydia, then said to the waitress, “That’s not my intention. I’m just trying to find a girl that suits me.”

“Then I think it’s awesome,” she gushed. “Like the TV show where the bachelor picks his love from a group of ladies.”

Zach and Lydia exchanged amused glances.

“If you want to think of it that way,” Zach said a bit awkwardly.

Thankfully, the waitress suddenly remembered why she was at their table and pulled an order pad out of a pocket on her uniform. “So what would you two like to drink?”

They both ordered iced tea, and after the young woman hurried away, Lydia shook her head. “I’m sorry, Zach. I shouldn’t have said that about the résumés. I wasn’t really making light of your...effort. It’s just that she was so—”

She broke off and with a sly smile Zach finished for her. “Obvious?”

Lydia expelled a long breath while wishing she could kick herself. “Yes. That’s what I was trying to say. I hope you’re not angry with me.”

His chuckle filled her with relief.

“Forget it. I’m not offended. But I am curious. Is that really the way you see my endeavor? That I’m looking at the whole thing like a job interview?”

It was all Lydia could do to keep from squirming. “Well, to be honest, it rather looks that way. But from the little time we’ve spent together, I get the impression you won’t marry a woman unless you’re wildly in love with her. And that’s all that matters.”

His lips spread in a wry smile and Lydia found her gaze focusing on the dimple carving his cheek and the way his white teeth glinted against his tanned skin.

He started to make some sort of reply, when the waitress returned with their drinks. As Lydia watched her write down their orders, she wondered how the young woman could possibly know what she was scrawling across the pad. Not with her ogling gaze never leaving Zach’s face.

“We’ll have these orders right out, Mr. Dalton.” Playfully wrinkling her nose, she let out a nervous giggle. “And if there’s anything else you need, I’ll be happy to get it for you.”

As the waitress walked away, Lydia had to stop herself from groaning and laughing. As for Zach, he seemed unaffected by the flirtatious behavior of the waitress, which made her wonder if she’d underestimated this man. Maybe he wasn’t nearly as gullible to the wiles of women as she’d first believed.

He looked across the table at Lydia and smiled. “Now, where were we?” he asked. “I believe you were saying something about me needing to be wildly in love before I picked a wife. Tell me, Lydia, have you ever been wildly in love?”

She didn’t know why, but the question brought a stinging heat to her cheeks. “Uh, no. Not that I remember. When I was about twenty years old, I had a crush on a bull rider.”

His jaw dropped. “A bull rider? You don’t seem the sort to go for that kind of guy.”

Laughing, she shrugged. “Well, he had the swagger in his walk and wore his hair a bit too long to be conventional. And guys just naturally look sexy in a pair of spurs.”

“What happened?”

This time her short laugh was brittle. “Nothing. He never knew I existed.”

“Hmm. What about high school? All girls at that age think they’re in love, don’t they?”

She shook her head. “Not me. There wasn’t really any guy I could hang my starry gaze upon. You see, back then I was a little plump and my complexion was a mess. The only thing I didn’t have was braces. But that was only because my mom couldn’t afford them.” She gave him a wide enough smile to expose her teeth. “See, my right front tooth has a tiny lap over the left one. But it doesn’t bother me. None of us are perfect, right?”

“Not at all.” He leaned closer, his eyes focused on her mouth. “And I happen to think your teeth look natural and nice.”

She was an idiot for letting his words thrill her. He was simply giving her a friend’s opinion. But it wasn’t often a man like Zach Dalton ever bothered to give her a compliment and the feeling was empowering.

“Thank you.”

He took a long drink from his glass, while she peeled a straw and jammed it into her iced tea.

“Tell me if I’m being too personal, but are you hoping to get married? Have children?”

Even though they shouldn’t have, the questions stung. Still, she mustered a casual voice. “Oh, back in those days of the bull rider—when I was twenty and everything about life looked fresh and wonderful—I dreamed of having a family. I expect most women do. But it just never happened. Now that I’m older, I suppose I’ve quit thinking so much about it. Someday I might find that perfect guy. But until then I’m content to stay busy at the Gazette.”

His gaze scanned her face and Lydia wondered what it would be like to have him look at her with love shining in his eyes. Would any man ever look at her with such devotion? He’d be faking it if he did. That was what her mother would say.

He tossed her a teasing grin. “So you’re not thinking about advertising for a husband?”

She laughed. “I think I’ll wait and see how things work out for you before I go that route.”

He rested his broad shoulders against the back of the booth. “I’m sure you’ve heard about my cousin Travis getting on reality TV.”

“Oh sure. Everyone in town has been talking about The Great Roundup! I haven’t missed an episode. It’s so fun watching people I know on TV.”

“I’ve been watching the episodes at the Ace in the Hole,” he said. “I have to admit it seems a bit surreal seeing Travis on TV. But so far he’s hanging strong with the competition.”

“I’m excited to see how the contest unfolds. Things are getting a bit nasty with some of the contestants. I hope Travis and Brenna are on the lookout for saboteurs among the group. I wouldn’t be surprised if a few of them might go as far as to cut cinch straps on saddles or deliberately spook a contestant’s horse.”

He nodded. “My same thoughts. Last week when that big burly cowboy with the handlebar mustache got bucked off his mount, I wondered if someone might have planted a burr or something sharp beneath his saddle pad. Some folks will do anything for money. Especially the prize of a cool million dollars.”

“Sad, but true,” she said, then offered him a bright smile. “But Travis is a tough guy. He might just be the one bringing the million dollars home. And a new wife, too. I think everyone was a little shocked over his sudden proposal to Brenna O’Reilly.”

Frowning, he picked up his tea glass. “I doubt anyone was more shocked than me,” he admitted. “Proposing marriage isn’t something a guy should do on impulse. But then Travis always was the reckless sort. I only hope he hasn’t set himself up for a miserable fall.”

“Well, from what I’ve seen on The Great Roundup, I get the sense there’s a real connection between him and Brenna. That’s the important thing.”

“Lust or love. With my cousin, who knows? I’m still trying to figure out if his proposal to Brenna was real or just a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

Lydia tapped her fingers against the tabletop as she mentally weighed Zach’s comments. “So you don’t believe picking a wife from a newspaper ad is impulsive?”

Thankfully, he wasn’t offended by her question. Instead, the faint grin on his face said he found it amusing. “I haven’t proposed yet, Lydia. Whenever I do, it will be after a lot of careful consideration.”

He sounded like a man weighing the appeal of a bologna sandwich against a rib eye steak. If he was truly in love, he shouldn’t need to “consider” anything, Lydia thought. His heart would know who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. But that wasn’t her worry.

To her relief, the waitress suddenly arrived with their meals, and the interruption allowed their conversation to move away from love and marriage.

Once the flirty waitress made certain Zach had everything he needed, she left them to enjoy their burgers and fries.

“Mmm. This tastes great,” Zach exclaimed after he’d swallowed a hefty bite of the thick burger. “I’ll have to remember this place.”

“I’m glad you approve. Being close to the Gazette makes it easy for me,” Lydia said. “I can walk here.”

“How long have you worked for the newspaper?”

“About six years. When I applied for the job, I didn’t have much experience. Actually, the only experience I had was the work I’d done on the college newspaper. But at that time, the boss of the Gazette was nice enough to take a chance on me. Since then I’ve worked my way up to assistant manager. My main job is graphic design and I also do the cartooning for the paper, along with anything else that needs to be done. Like taking classified ads, answering the phone and—”

“Fixing the plumbing,” he finished for her.

Surprised that he remembered, she chuckled. “That’s right. I do know how to handle a crescent wrench.”

His eyes sparkled. “I’ll try to remember not to make you angry. A woman that can handle a crescent wrench can be dangerous.”

Laughing softly, she dipped a french fry into a pool of ketchup. “Don’t worry. I can hardly bring myself to swat a fly.”

* * *

By the time Zach and Lydia finished the meal, her lunch hour was nearing its end. After taking care of the bill, Zach walked her back to the Gazette, then drove straight to the Circle D.

As soon as he parked his truck near the barn, he spotted his brother Cole pushing a wheelbarrow filled with horse manure and dirty shavings toward a pile of compost.

Expecting he was going to catch hell for being gone part of the morning, Zach left the vehicle and walked over to his brother.

“What’s going on? Cleaning horse stalls?”

“Where have you been?” Cole demanded. “Have you forgotten there’s work to be done around here? Yeah, I’m cleaning stalls—all by myself, I might add. Shawn and Booker took off on horseback to go round up a bull. He crashed through a fence at the back of the property. So that leaves me and you to finish the dirty chores here in the ranch yard.”

“Sorry,” Zach apologized. “I had to go into town.”

Which was partly true, he thought. He couldn’t leave personal mail lying around the newspaper office.

“To see one of your prospective brides, no doubt,” Cole said with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

“Actually, I did have lunch with a woman,” Zach admitted. “But she’s not in the running for my wife.”

Cole’s expression took on a look of exaggerated shock. “You mean she wasn’t that impressed with you? Wonder of wonders.”

Rolling up his shirtsleeves, Zach started walking toward the barn. Cole grabbed the wheelbarrow and fell in step beside him.

“If that’s the way it is, then maybe you can introduce her to me,” he suggested with a wicked grin.

Zach glanced at his good-looking brother. Lydia with Cole? No. Zach didn’t like that idea. Not at all.

“Forget it,” he repeated in a blunt tone. “She’s too old for you.”

“Really? How old is she?”

“Twenty-eight.”

Cole’s laugh was more of a loud whoop than anything. “Guess you’ve forgotten I’m twenty-eight, too.”

Zach frowned at him. “No. I’ve not forgotten. And you like younger women. Remember?”

Cole chuckled knowingly. “Wow! This ad thing worked a damned sight quicker than I expected! Zach has found the woman he’s been searching for! When’s the wedding, little brother?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not. I can see it all over your face.”

Cole couldn’t see anything on his face. There was nothing to see. Lydia was a friend. Just because he wanted to shield her from Cole’s clutches didn’t mean he was falling for the woman.

“The only thing you need to be seeing is that wheelbarrow full of manure,” Zach told him. “Let’s get to work.”

* * *

That evening Zach was too tired to contribute much to the conversation around the dinner table. But he was all ears when his father brought up the subject of purchasing a piece of property. Something Zach and the rest of his brothers had been praying to happen.

“It doesn’t look like anyone lives there now,” Phil said as everyone around the table enjoyed bowls of dewberry cobbler topped with ice cream. “The house is empty and the fences look like they’re about to collapse. There’s a big yellow barn on the property. From what I could see from the road, it could use some repairs, but it looked usable.”

Angled to Phil’s left elbow, his brother Charles nodded. “Yes, I know the property you’re talking about. That’s the Stockton place. It’s been vacant for a few years now. Ever since Rob and Lauren Stockton were killed in a car accident. That was a real tragedy.”

Rita spoke up somberly, “Especially with the couple having seven children. The way I remember it, after the accident the children split up. Some even left town. I think two of the younger girls were adopted.”

“Jamie and his sister Bella are still in Rust Creek Falls,” his cousin Eli spoke up. “I’ve not heard about the rest of the siblings.”

“Who owns the Stockton place now?” Zach asked. “The siblings?”

Uncle Charles answered, “That’s a good question. You’d think if the brothers and sisters owned it, they’d be trying to keep the place from falling into ruin.” He looked at Phil. “If you’re interested in the property, we could ask around.”

“Maybe old Grandpa Stockton owns the place,” Eli suggested.

Aunt Rita grimly shook her head. “That would certainly be a travesty. The old man didn’t seem to care what happened to his grandchildren. He didn’t deserve the property.”

“Well, the place looks like it has potential. But we’ll see. Some other nice place might come up for sale,” Phil said.

In the chair next to his, Cole tilted his head close to Zach’s and muttered under his breath, “Let’s hope it’s soon. Six extra men in this house are way too many.”

The house was definitely crowded, but Zach wasn’t going to complain. He wanted their father to heal from the grief of losing his wife. And being with his brother Charles seemed to be working wonders for Phil’s spirit. As for Zach and his brothers, they each had to deal with the loss of their mother in their own private way.

“Hush and eat your cobbler,” Zach mumbled. “We’ll survive.”

* * *

Later that night, after Zach had retired to the bedroom he shared with Booker, he finally had a chance to look at the mail he’d collected from the Gazette.

Stretched out on the single bed, with his head propped on a pair of pillows, he began to sift through the emails and a few letters in envelopes that had been hand delivered to the newspaper office. Some of the women chose the short and sweet method to garner his attention, while others had gone into great detail about their cooking, cleaning and, last but not least, bedroom qualifications.

Just reading the erotic promises was enough to turn Zach’s face beet red and he was glad the explicit letters had been in sealed envelopes. Just thinking of Lydia reading this sort of stuff in an email message made him cringe.

Lydia. Lydia.

He looked across the room to where the open curtains gave him a view of a bright, full moon rising over the trees. Was Lydia out strolling beneath the moonlight tonight with a favorite guy? he wondered. Or was she alone in her apartment or house, watching TV?

Hell, Zach, what is the matter with you? You have dozens and dozens of prospective brides lying right here in your lap and you’re thinking about a woman who is so far from your ideal it’s not even funny. Sure, Lydia is easy to talk to, but that’s where it ends. And there’s damn sure more to marriage than just talk. So get your mind off Lydia Grant and back on the business at hand.

Grimacing at the pestering voice in his head, he picked up another envelope and slid a letter opener beneath the flap. When he pulled out a single piece of paper, a photo fell to the side.

Picking it up, he read the brief information scrawled across the back of the glossy paper. Twenty-two years old. College graduate. Blonde with the word natural to the side in parenthesis. Blue eyes. Five foot nine.





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