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He’d noticed her the first day she’d driven into Mule Hollow several months back. He’d been helping set up Main Street for the town fair when she stepped out of her car and sent his world spinning.
Who wouldn’t have noticed her? She had long chestnut hair that shimmered in the sunshine with every purposeful step she took. Today it was pulled back into a ponytail, a few strands fluttering around her face, drawing attention to the wide green eyes that dominated her delicate features.
Those had been his first impressions of the beauty at his side. She was a nice person. A stunning woman. But it hadn’t taken long to realize she wasn’t the woman for him. He’d momentarily forgotten she was a reporter. A fact that emerged after only a few conversations with her. There was no missing the sparkle in her eyes as she talked about her work. It was clear that Molly’s career was first and foremost in her mind—which was her prerogative. But he’d stepped back quicker than a cowboy hearing the rattle of a Texas rattlesnake.
His prerogative was to look for a wife. He wasn’t interested in playing the field and dating for the sake of dating. He wanted to settle down with a traditional woman—a wife who would focus on him, the children they would have and the life they would build together.
Yep, Bob might have rescued Molly because she needed rescuing—and he couldn’t help but enjoy looking at her—but he knew where to draw the line on his emotions. For months, that line had been drawn right there on the ground in front of Molly Popp. Reporter.
But there was one problem that had steadily gotten worse over the past few weeks.
Molly had decided to use him as a step toward achieving her goal.
And that wasn’t going to happen.
He’d been putting off confronting her about mentioning him so much in her weekly column. However, finding her in his pasture was the last straw. It was time to talk.
“Why would you have a killer bull in the pasture in front of your house?”
What? Her words sliced though the silence that had built between them like an arrow toward a bull’s-eye. He focused and met her accusing gaze. “I don’t normally.” The woman had some nerve. He’d give her a little slack because she’d been traumatized by his bull. The thought of what that maniac would have done to her if he hadn’t heard the sound of her horn plagued him. But the fact of the matter remained that it was none of her business what his animals did on his private property.
Still he found himself explaining.
“Sylvester broke through a gate this morning and headed straight for his girlfriends. I had one of my other bulls in there while he was recovering from an injured foot and it was driving him mad. Clint Matlock and J.P. were on their way to help me corral him.”
“Corral him? He needs to be shot.”
Bob arched an eyebrow at her and her expression crumpled into remorse.
“Okay, maybe not shot. I’m upset. But he needs to be put far away from people. He’s an animal. And I mean a wild animal. He just charged me! Right there out of the blue. I mean I didn’t even see him coming! And his girlfriends, they tricked me. They were meandering across the road. I think they were doing it on purpose. I really do. To distract me and get me to stop. And then wham!”
She was talking faster than an auctioneer. The earlier terror in her eyes was replaced with anger. Even though she’d been in the wrong for trespassing on his land, thus endangering her life, Bob still felt a sense of guilt at her unfortunate morning.
But she’d been trespassing on his private property. Just as she’d been trespassing on his life with her newspaper articles.
He pushed the truth aside and tried to focus on getting her to town and out of his truck before he said something he might regret.
He thought about how this woman would do anything for a story. Her actions proved it. “You were taking pictures—”
“Excuse me?” she huffed. “I figured if I was going down I should go out with a story. I mean, when I was trapped inside the car thinking I was about to get killed, I could just see the humiliating headlines. You know the ones that would read, Reporter Molly Popp Found Squashed Inside Her Aptly Colored Banana-Toned VW Bug. Nope, I refused to go out that way.”
He glanced from the road back to her. “Everything with you is about a story. Do you ever just relax and enjoy the day without thinking about the next idea? The next angle? It’s not healthy.”
He looked back at the road. Her grunt of disapproval told him he’d stepped on her toes. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this discussion. Not long after she’d come to town they’d gotten into it, lightly. It had started out as a quiet discussion they’d had one night after church. And like now, they’d agreed to disagree. It was the reason he’d known not to pursue the undeniable attraction he felt toward Molly.
And he was attracted, but competing with a camera and a computer were not his hopes and dreams for his life. Molly’s mind never ceased looking for an angle. And he had no plans to live every day with that kind of mind. Or everyday “agreeing to disagree.”
Through no choice of his own, Bob had been down that dead-end road once and he wasn’t about to go there again. Ever. No matter how much it had bothered him to shut down his interest in Molly.
Which brought him full circle with the little matter that needed to be resolved between them…her using him as her main story in the world of good press. Apparently the woman would crawl over anybody to keep her precious name in the paper. It was disgusting. Her syndicated column was about Mule Hollow, and everyone who lived there, but somehow, slowly, he’d become an increasing headliner.
“What are you going to do about my car?”
Her changing the subject wasn’t a surprise. She never wanted to talk about her inability to join in with the real world. He took the opportunity to try and back off from the agitation building inside him. He tried instead to focus on the right way to handle this, not his gut reaction.
“I’ll have Prudy come over as soon as we get Sylvester out of there and he can take it back to town. I’ll call my insurance agent first thing in the morning.” He glanced at her. “I am sorry about your car.”
And he was, but it was time to get a handle on the situation. This showdown had been building for weeks, a showdown he prayed about and thought would be resolved for him. But clearly the Lord had decided to leave the fixing up to him. And he couldn’t ignore it any longer.
Bucking up his resolve, he directed the big truck toward the side of the road. This was not something to discuss while driving. He slid the gear into park and turned toward Molly.
“What are you doing?” she asked, swinging toward him, surprise written in her reaction.
Bob shook his head, amazed at her ability to seem so naive. The best thing for him to do before he chickened out and let those big mossy eyes work on him was to get right to the heart of the matter. “Why are you writing about me so much in your column?”
She blinked. “I write about everyone.”
“Not like you do me. And why are you snooping around my house? I’ve had it, Molly.” He rubbed his temple, trying to focus on his agenda. “It’s bad enough you’re writing about my personal life for all the world to see, I don’t need you putting pictures of me in there, too. Matter of fact, that’s what this is about. I don’t want you writing about me anymore. Got that?” There, that should do it.
She could go her way and he could go his. And maybe the nagging interest he was continually needing to redirect away from her would vanish once and for all.
Okay, so maybe she deserved the accusatory scorn that she saw in his eyes. To an extent. She raked a hand through her hair, remembering it was in a ponytail only after her fingers snagged against the beaded scrunchy. He’d just told her not to write about him anymore!
“What have I written about you that’s so terrible? I’ve only generalized about what a nice guy you are. Just like I do about all the cowboys in Mule Hollow.”
He snorted in disbelief, his dark eyes narrowing as the color changed from navy to almost black like a cloud darkening open water.
“Are you joking? I’m showing up in the papers more than the President. I can read, you know. And even if I couldn’t, everybody in Mule Hollow gets a real treat quoting me every line you’ve written about me. Enough already.” He took off his straw Stetson and held it between his tanned hands in an advertisement-worthy pause before sweeping his curls off his forehead and settling the hat back on his head.
Molly swallowed, watching the restraint in his movements. He was really mad. She’d never seen Bob mad. The guy was the mildest-mannered man she’d ever met, which was one of the many qualities that had attracted her to him in the first place. But this was ridiculous….
“Seriously, what have I done that is all that bad? Tell me.”
“Cassie.” He bit the word out and nailed her with frank eyes.
“Cassie? I can’t believe you’re mad about Cassie! She’s a sweet girl. You made a great impression on her.”
“I like Cassie. But she stalked me for a month if you remember!”
Molly’s mouth fell open. “Hey, most men would love to have a beautiful young woman chasing after them. And besides, I did hear you say, right there in Sam’s Diner, that you’d specifically bought your own ranch so that you would be ready when the Lord sent you a wife. You said that you were going to step out on faith and show the Lord you knew He had someone special out there for you. You said you were going to settle down and get prepared.”
Bob frowned and yanked his hat off again. Those distracting dark curls drew her attention once more and Molly found her gaze lingering there, until he moved his head and his navy eyes slammed into hers. “I said that to Clint Matlock in confidence. You were eavesdropping—”
“Eavesdropping! Are you kidding! You were sitting in Sam’s diner. Everyone heard you say it.”
“That may be true.” He gritted the words through barely moving lips. “Still,” he snapped, on a second wind, an angry wind, “it doesn’t give you the right to think you can plunk me in the middle of your stories like a poster boy for some lonely cowboys foundation. I said I was getting ready for the wife God was going to send me. What makes you think God needs your help? Because I certainly don’t.”
“Now that’s not fair. God’s using me.”
“And you’re using me.”
That tripped her up for a moment. True, her column had been picked off the wire by a huge number of newspapers across the country. The interest in what was happening in Mule Hollow was a phenomenon! Though she’d already gained some praise and recognition for one of her personal segment articles prior to moving to Mule Hollow, and her magazine article sales had been enough to help pay the bills with their meager success, the Mule Hollow phenomenon had put her on the map. After she’d seen the ad and decided to relocate here and started her column about Mule Hollow, well, things had been great. Everyone was interested in the dying little town that had done a national ad campaign for wannabe wives.
Even magazines that never had given her the time of day were suddenly interested in what she had to say—on the subject of Mule Hollow as well as other topics. It was a dream come true. She couldn’t deny it.
Of course, in the big world of media Molly realized only her pinky toe was in the door and the overnight recognition could be gone in a flash. But to say that she was using him…well, it sounded so wrong. “It’s a win-win situation,” she said in her defense—and it was true. “I get the recognition I need to move up in my career while you and the other fellas get invaluable exposure that will lead would-be wives to our little town. I’m helping you fulfill your dream.”
Looking at Bob sent her own heart into that all-too-familiar jig. The Bob jig, as she referred to it. The guy didn’t even know the effect he had on women, which was part of his appeal. He wasn’t a spotlight kind of man. He was a little shy about all the recognition he was getting. That was what the fuss was really about, she reassured herself.
She knew he realized her work was helping Mule Hollow. There was life in the little town now, when only months ago the place had been dead. The fact that Adela Ledbetter, Norma Sue Jenkins and Esther Mae Wilcox had put in motion a plan to revive their beloved town had ultimately led to the influx of husband-hunting women. Molly was meant to be here. Her help was crucial. The fact that her articles had caused a young woman like Cassie, without home or family, to hitchhike to Mule Hollow in the hope of finding what she’d never had…brought tears to Molly’s eyes.
For her, it had been Lacy Brown—now Lacy Matlock—who’d inspired her to move to the town and change her life.
The wacky hairdresser had recognized her mission in life when she’d read the first ad and instantly moved to Mule Hollow to open her salon and help bring life to the town. She’d believed, and rightly so, that the women would read the ads about a bunch of lonesome cowboys and that they would come. And she’d believed they would want to look good while trying to find the right cowboy. But most important, she believed that while they were getting all spruced up in her salon, she would be able to witness to them.
And it was happening. Molly had been the first person Lacy had talked to about the Lord. That conversation had changed her life.
Molly had accepted the Lord into her life and begun to build a personal relationship with Him that very day. She was stumbling all the way, but trying, as Lacy had shown her by example, to put God first in everything she did. Not an easy thing to do. Especially when someone like Bob didn’t fully appreciate the good she was striving to accomplish. The man had said he wanted a wife. She was simply trying to help him!
And she wouldn’t do that for all the bachelors. Oh no, some of these cowboys were lonesome for good reasons! No ambition, partying all the time, not an ounce of respect for a lady…but the ones like Bob—especially Bob—were wonderful guys and she only wanted to help.
Her thoughts whirring, she met his dubious stare straight on, his denial ringing in her ears. He might not think he needed her help, but God had called her to Mule Hollow for a reason. Maybe at first coming to the quaint little town had been about career strategy, but that had lasted about a week. She had started seeing things differently the instant the Lord entered her heart.
Women out there needed good men.
Decent men.
And that fundamental realization had set off a light bulb in her brain. It didn’t take long to see Mule Hollow was packed full of wonderful, God-loving men. And like Lacy kept telling her, God had His reasons for bringing her here. What better reason than to use her talents to showcase the good guys? Lead the women to water as Norma Sue was fond of saying. So that was what she was doing before she moved on to her next step up the ladder of success. She’d been showcasing all the cowboys. She couldn’t help it that readers loved Bob.
“Well,” Bob said, bringing her wandering brain back to the present. “God might be using you, but, like I said, I’m not in need of your services. The conversation I had with Clint was none of your business.”
She expelled a slow breath, fighting the urge to glare at him. “I’m only trying to help,” she reiterated, starting to feel nervous. Really nervous.
He met and held her gaze with one that said he disagreed. She narrowed her eyes, refusing to back down. She couldn’t. She truly hadn’t done anything wrong. Had she?
His eyes narrowed to mirror hers then suddenly the skin where his dimple would appear if he smiled started quivering, as if it was going to give way and turn into a smile at any moment. Molly breathed a sigh of relief. She just might be off the hook.
“Look Molly, really, I know you haven’t meant any harm. I know you think you’re helping me, and you’re certainly helping Mule Hollow. There is no denying that it’s been put on the map through your articles. But I’m done. I want out. Do you understand?” He dropped his chin to his chest then looked straight at her.
Molly’s throat went dry and she tried to swallow the lump that had lodged there. The acid in her stomach attacked the inner walls as she tried to digest Bob’s words.
No way around it. Her boat had a hole in it.
Bob engaged the gears and guided the truck back onto the road. When he started whistling softly to himself, Molly blinked and started fidgeting with a loose thread on the seam of her jeans. That was Bob. The good-hearted guy who was going to make some lucky woman a wonderful husband was back to being himself again. Just like that, he’d forgiven her for what he thought was an intrusion on his life.
Just like that, he thought all was well, everything fixed.
Molly struggled to breathe, watching the brightly colored town appear on the horizon. She didn’t feel the jolt of happiness she normally felt upon seeing it set there welcoming her. As brightly variegated as a box of crayons, just as Lacy had intended when she talked the town into painting the dull, dry, clapboard buildings, it should have brought a smile to Molly’s lips.
Not today.
Her thoughts were riveted to the article she’d submitted earlier in the week.
The one her editor had requested because of overwhelming reader interest….
The one that hit the streets tomorrow.
The one that was too late to retract.
The one she’d meant for good…really.
Chapter Two
The aroma of strong coffee, thick bacon and Sam’s unbelievably seasoned eggs were enough to make a good cowboy buckle with hunger. What man would miss home cooking when he could get something this fantastic by just walking in the door of Sam’s?
Call him crazy, but Bob could. Not that he’d ever had that much home cooking…but he missed it. Longed for it.
It was a simple fact that no matter how much he enjoyed the food and company at Sam’s, Bob wanted more. He wanted a home, a family. He’d wanted it all his life. Being raised in a boarding school did that to a guy. He pushed aside the old anger at his dad for choosing his career in journalism over him. But even though he’d forgiven his father, it hadn’t changed the fact that he longed for the family bond he’d never had. Having lost his mom at an early age, he had fond memories of how life had been before her death. He wanted a wife who could bring the same feeling of security to his life. That same sense of love and belonging.
After years of planning, he’d decided it was time he put his faith into action and show the Lord he believed He was going to send him the perfect wife. The wife He’d prepared for him from the beginning of time.
And so he’d taken the step forward and bought his ranch just a month earlier. It had been a big step for him to change the timetable on his long-term goals. His life had been going pretty close to the target he’d set for himself back when he’d quit the pro bull-riding circuit and taken the job working for Clint. But he’d realized in all of his goal setting he hadn’t left any room for faith in the plans he’d made. It had been an eye-opener when the realization hit him.
Not that he didn’t still believe goal setting was imperative for a man who wanted to be a good provider for his family. But after watching his buddies fall in love and get married when they’d least expected it—and be so happy as a result—he’d realized that sometimes a man had to follow a path that didn’t have a structure. Or at least not an earthly structure. So he’d changed course.
Now, as he took a seat at Sam’s counter, Bob felt a sense of anticipation like he’d never experienced before. Something was about to happen that was going to change his life. He could practically feel God smiling at him.
Of course the feeling could simply and logically be that he’d dodged a bullet yesterday when Molly hadn’t been maimed or killed by Sylvester.
Ever since he’d dropped her at her apartment yesterday, she’d been stuck in his brain. He’d let her off easy, despite the fact she’d been a thorn in his side for weeks.
Ever since the Cassie incident, there had been an ongoing discussion among several of the cowboys about Molly’s articles. It galled him that they thought he was dim-witted for even thinking she should stop writing them. She was helping, they all insisted. Yeah right, helping herself into a highly visible reporting job. He’d been through it all before with his dad. Still, just as long as she left him out of it he didn’t care what she did.
That was his reasoning behind letting her off easy yesterday. Why get an ulcer over something that was old news?
He’d simply asked her to omit him from future articles. So that was that. He was done. Life could resume on an even note. Molly could do her thing and he could do his. There would no longer be any connection between them, which was a good thing.
So everything should be fine…right? His mind clicked to something about the way Molly had acted. An uneasy feeling settled over him as he replayed the trip into town. She’d been quiet. Real quiet. As in she hadn’t said anything except a mumbled thank-you when she practically dove out of his truck at her place….
Sam burst through the kitchen’s double doors, drawing his mind back from the sudden nagging sense of discontent. “Mornin’, Goodlooking,” Sam chirped.
Bob eyed the little man. “What’d you say?”
Flashing an unusually bright grin, Sam set a coffee mug in front of him and poured his stout black brew into it. “Now don’t go bein’ all shy, you handsome hunk of a man,” he drawled.
Lately everyone had noticed Sam had been slightly distracted and grumpy. But this was just plain abnormal. Bob was about to ask if his longtime friend was feeling okay but the Diner’s door swung open and the morning crowd of hungry cowboys stampeded inside. His friend and ex-boss, rancher Clint Matlock, was in the lead.
“Well hello, Bob.” Clint lifted an eyebrow and punctuated the word Bob. Another abnormality for the morning.
