| Excerpt:
“Miss Tindale.” Mr. Spud stepped from a stall. His stringy gray hair poked
out in all directions from beneath his battered brown hat. A grin pushed
high into his whiskery face. “Don’t you look pretty as a spring daisy,” he
said, brushing his hands across the front of his striped shirt as he walked
toward her.
“You’re too kind,” she said, certain the old man’s eyesight must be failing.
“May I assume my cart is ready?”
Mr. Spud’s bushy gray eyebrows pinched. “Didn’t Wyatt find you?”
“Yes. He’s been detained. As I said earlier, I’m quite capable of handling a
cart.”
“I can’t send you out into those hills by your lonesome. The Morgans’
won’t--”
“You’ve given explicit directions. I can assure you--”
“Hey, Spud! You in there?”
Cora tensed, recognizing that booming voice. Not again.
“Well speak of the devil,” Mr. Spud said as he peered toward the open double
doors, “and he’s bound to surface.”
Coated with dirt, the beastly man did look as though he’d crawled up out of
the earth. His young friend walked in behind him. When Garret spotted her,
his young face beamed with a smile.
“What in thunder happened to you?” asked Mr. Spud.
“Had to pull a few colts from a muddy riverbed. I was told you’ve got the
feed stocked up in here. I paid for six bags.”
“Sure do. Right inside the door there. Help yourself. Now that you’re here,
I won’t have to worry about finding the lady an escort.”
“That’s quite all right,” Cora quickly cut in. “I don’t needan escort.”
Cold green eyes raked across the length of her. “If you’re headed in our
direction--”
“No. Thank you. I really do not require an escort.”
His broad shoulders shifted, creating tiny avalanches of dust and dirt.
“Your choice.”
“But that don’t make no sense,” said Mr. Spud. “Not when--”
“I can manage,” Cora insisted. “Thank you, Mr. Spud. I’ll be on my way.”
“You heard the lady. Let’s get these loaded, kid.” He turned away and
hoisted four large sacks of feed.
“Nice seeing you again,” Garret said, smiling brightly as he backed toward
the open doors carrying the other two bags of oats. “See you next month,
Spud.”
“Uh, Miss Tindale?” Mr. Spud poked his fingers under his battered hat and
scratched at his gray hair as he squinted at her. “Ain’t you headed to the
Morgan place?”
“I am,” she said, walking toward the cart.
“Then you might ought to change your mind about the escort, seein’ as that
there’s one of the Morgans.”
Cora's gaze whipped toward the hitching rails outside the stable. “No.” She
looked from the nice young man who couldn’t be more than sixteen to his
thick-shouldered companion securing bags of feed to the back of a
saddle-less horse. “Are you certain?”
“Yes, ma’am. He’s either the married one or he ain’t. ‘Bout the only time I
can tell ‘em apart is when Tuck brings his wife along.”
She thought of the man’s piercing green eyes, and her heart skipped a beat.
Oh my goodness. Struck between horror and disbelief, she slowly made her way
outside.
Garret laughed as the Morgan dunked his head into a trough. He whipped back,
spraying water across the sky and revealing golden blond hair. Drops of
water trickled down handsome features to his sharp jaw. His head tilted back
as he raked his fingers through his hair, and she spotted a tiny scar hidden
beneath his chin. A scar she’d given him, accidentally.
Chance.
Smoothing her hands across the front of her skirt, she continued toward him.
She had so wanted to make a good first impression. She stopped a few feet
away. Tears stung her eyes, constricting her throat when she would have
offered a greeting. She had waited so long.
“You’re gonna get mighty cold by the time we reach the ranch,” Garret said
through his laughter.
Chance Morgan welcomed a chill, but he doubted it would help. “Trust me,
Kid, I won’t be cold.”
“She caught your eye too, huh?”
“My eye didn’t catch anything,” he countered, still irritated that he’d been
attracted to a pile of fluff and lace. Not his style. It was just as well
her highness had opted to decline their escort.
“All that mud must be clogging your vision,” said Garret.
Not a chance. He’d made out all those curvy features with crystal clarity.
He had enough trouble without adding fancy women into the mix. Five minutes
in the general store and mothers were nudging their frightened daughters
toward him. What was wrong with town folk? Why would anyone assume that
because he had a ranch, he’d be suitable marriage material? Or that he
wanted a wife?
“Mud wouldn’t have kept me from noticing that little lady was prettier than
a buttercup,” said Garret. “A buttercup bloomin’ in the...uh...uhm...”
Pressing his hat over his wet hair, Chance glanced at Garret’s beet-red
face. He followed the kid’s wide-eyed gaze to the buttercup standing a foot
to his right, and grinned. That’ll teach the kid to go spouting off at the
mouth.
“You again?” He allowed his gaze to slide across the alluring figure he’d
noticed a moment before he’d spotted Wyatt standing beside her. “Did you
change your mind about the escort?”
She stared up at him through watery eyes and appeared to be choking.
“Miss, are you okay?”
“Chance,” she said, sounding breathless.
Shock rippled through him. Being one of the prettiest women he’d ever seen,
he knew damn-well he’d never laid eyes on her until today. But she sure as
hell seemed to know him.
“Have we met?”
“Oh, yes,” she said in a rush. “I’ve been waiting forever to see you again.”
Her pink lips stretched into a bright smile. A smile that sparkled in eyes
the shade of cinnamon.
His gaze honed in on the light dusting of freckles across her small nose.
Spotting a spiral of bright auburn hair poking out from beneath her wide
fancy hat, Chance was hit by the flashing memory of big doe eyes, long
orange braids and the mischievous grin of a little girl he hadn’t seen since
he was twelve. He looked deeper into brown eyes flecked with bits of gold
and amber.
Holy hell.
Chance took a cautious step back. “Cora Mae?”
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