Clayton's Made-Over Mrs.

Checking to make sure nobody was within hearing distance, she whispered, “What makes you think I have tender feelings for Clayt?”

Cletus shifted from one foot to the other the way he always did when he was discarding answers faster than he could come up with them. Inching closer, he said, “I’ve known for years.”

“You have?”

The nod of his head was more serious than Mel would have liked. “Now might not be the time to break this to you, but everybody knows.”

Her hand flew to her throat. “That’s impossible. I’ve never told a soul.”

“When has that ever had anything to do with anything in Jasper Gulch? Would you looky there? Doc Masey’s motioning for me to join him behind the shed for a nice fat cigar.”

“Granddad.”

He turned around again on bowed legs, although he could have pretended he hadn’t heard.

“Everybody knows?” she mouthed.

Pulling at his suspenders, he said, “If you don’t believe me, ask around.” Without another word he headed for a group of his buddies who were waiting near the shed.

Mel stared after him, shaken. If everybody knew about her foolish heart’s stupid infatuation with that ignoramus Clayt Carson, she’d never be able to hold her head high in the diner again. How could they have possibly known? She and Clayt were rarely civil to each other, let alone nice.

Why, then, had her grandfather said that everybody in town knew about her feelings? Cletus McCully was a wonderful man. He’d taken her and Wyatt in after their parents had drowned in the Bad River when she was six, and she loved him to pieces. The man would lay down his life for her and Wyatt, but Mel happened to know that he wasn’t above bending the truth every now and then. He had to be mistaken about this. Still, he’d told her to ask around. Spying Jillian Daniels, one of the brides to be, Mel knew exactly where to begin.

“A double wedding. Isn’t that, like, the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard of? And look at Lisa’s dress. Isn’t it, like, the most gorgeous dress you’ve ever seen?”

Clayt was doing his best to follow Brandy Schafer’s conversation. But it wasn’t easy. At first he’d blamed it on the upper swells of her breasts she was so intent upon showing him. Now he realized there was more to his distraction than her young, nubile body. Truth was, she was boring him to death.

“I mean, I adore that color of blue, and I love the way the material practically skims her ankles. If Lisa’s going to carry that style of dress in her shop I’m absolutely positive the Jasper Gulch Clothing Store is going to be a success. Oh, I hope she does. I’m so sick of Western skirts and blouses…”

Idly, Clayt wondered how much longer the girl could keep talking without coming up for air. A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He didn’t have to turn his head to know it was Mel McCully. He would recognize her slender build and dark blond hair anywhere. She was one gal who’d never bored him with useless prattle. Mel wasn’t like other women. That’s what he liked about her. He was all set to flash her his famous grin, but she walked right on by without a backward glance, and he ended up shaking his head instead.

So, good old Mel was holding a grudge. He wasn’t surprised. She was more ornery and obstinate than any woman he’d ever known—including Victoria. Only Mel wasn’t nearly as mean. Clayt didn’t like thinking about Victoria. It reminded him of too many mistakes, of too many things he couldn’t change. He’d married young. And he’d married wrong. He was thirty-six years old now. The next time he got married he’d like to do it right. Maybe not for love, but at least for the good of Haley.

He nodded at whatever in Sam Hill Brandy was talking about now. Mentally he checked her off his list. She was built nicely, but criminy, any woman who was going to stay a step ahead of Haley had to have a little more between her ears.

A new woman named Brittany Matthews had moved to town a couple of weeks ago. She’d pretty much kept to herself since her arrival, but Clayt had heard that she and her five-year-old daughter had come all the way from New Jersey. Old Mertyl Gentry had her cornered over by the food table right now. As soon as he could get a word in edgewise with Brandy, he’d mosey on over and introduce himself. Brittany. Now that was a real pretty name.

Chapter Two

Brittany. Brittany. Brittany.

It was all Mel had heard all day at the diner.

She placed the half-full tray of dishes on a table and headed for the front, where the Anderson brothers were waiting, money in hand. She smiled at Lisa, Jillian and DoraLee Sullivan on her way by, nodded at Brittany Matthews and stuck her nose in the air as she passed Clayt.

“Everything all right, boys?” she asked when she reached the register.

Neil Anderson nodded, but Mel had her doubts that he’d actually heard her question. He was too busy talking about the same thing everybody else was talking about.

“Brittany,” he repeated quietly to one of his brothers. “The name has a nice ring to it, don’t it?”

“Sure does,” Ned declared. “I don’t think Clayt’s taken his eyes off her since they sat down in that booth, do you?”

“Nope,” Norbert agreed. “And I can see why.”

Ned nodded. “She’s easy on the eyes, that’s for sure. I’m not usually partial to short hair, but I’m making an exception for her. What do you think, Mel?”

Mel thought she felt a headache coming on. A glance at Clayt and Brittany made her sure of it. There wasn’t really anything wrong with Brittany Matthews. She wasn’t much taller than Mel, but the boys were right. Her brown eyes were friendly, and Mel could see how a man might find her dark, wispy hair the tiniest bit enticing. Clayt must have thought so, too, because he reached across the table and brushed a strand off her cheek.

Mel’s temples throbbed like a set of bongo drums.

“Clayt’s a lucky dog.”

“Always did have an eye for the lookers.”

“Ain’t that right, Mel?”

The three thirty-something ranchers stopped short all at once, only to cast furtive glances at Mel one at a time. The brothers were slight of build and pretty good guitar players, but they’d never mastered the fine art of talking with a sizeten boot in their mouths. As if on cue, they flung enough money to cover their lunches onto the counter and took turns mumbling under their breath.

“Keep the change, Mel.”

“Yeah, keep the change.”

“S’long.”

“Thanks, boys.” While Melody punched the sale button on her old-fashioned cash register and deposited the money inside, Neil, Ned and Norbert moseyed out the door.

So, the Anderson Brothers knew, too.

Her grandfather had been right. Two days ago she’d been appalled at the very idea that people might know about her pathetic feelings for Clayt. She’d broached the subject with Jillian Daniels first, hypothetically of course. Jillian had seen through her carefully schooled expression like a picture window. Nodding her head as if trying to soften the blow, Jillian had said that Luke might have mentioned something to that effect. Lisa Markman’s reply had been a little more straightforward, and although Wyatt had tried to hem and haw his way out of it, he’d ended up admitting that he’d known for years, too.

When she’d first discovered the truth, she’d been certain she would never be able to hold her head up in public again. Her pride was smarting, but after a little soul-searching she’d come to the realization that nothing had really changed. She was just in on the secret, that was all. Some secret it had turned out to be.

“Afternoon, Mel.”

Mel could blame the fact that she hadn’t heard Clayt’s approach on the whir of the fan in the corner and the noise she was making stacking dishes on a tray, but she blamed the rapid thud of her pulse on something else entirely. Stiffening, she wiped her hands on her short apron and moved toward the cash register once again. “Everything to your liking?” she asked stonily.

“Your food’s always good and you know it”

She glanced across the room in time to see Brittany Matthews disappear inside the ladies’ room. Lisa, Jillian and DoraLee appeared to be finishing up with the wedding plans they were making at a table near the window, which left Mel on her own with Clayt for the first time since he’d sort of asked her to marry him four days ago.

Bristling all over again, she said, “That’ll be seven dollars and sixty-five cents.”

He handed her a ten. “How long you gonna stay mad at me?”

She cast him her most withering glare. “I’ve always been mad at you, Clayt Carson.”

He shook his head the same way he always did. Holding out his hand for his change, he said, “Don’t I know it. Things would be a lot simpler if you weren’t so confounded contrary.”

Shifting her weight to one foot, Mel took a chance and looked him straight in the eye. “How romantic.”

“You want romance?”

As if realizing he’d spoken louder than he’d intended, he glanced around to see if anyone had heard, leaving Mel a moment to hide her feelings. She swallowed and blinked and swallowed again. It wasn’t the question that hurt, it was his emphasis on you—as if she was the last person on earth he’d think about in a romantic way.

Thankful for the pluck she’d inherited from her grandfather, Mel straightened her spine and punched the button that would open the cash register drawer. “You and Brittany looked pretty cozy a few minutes ago. What’s the matter? Is there something wrong with her, too?”

Either Clayt failed to hear the sarcasm in her voice or he chose to ignore it. Depositing his change in his pocket, he said, “No, Brittany’s great. But she’s having her own problems with her little girl, and God knows I’m having trouble with mine. We decided it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to put the two of them together. I’m tellin’ you, Mel, you could have made this a lot easier.”

Brittany joined Clayt before Mel could think of a proper response, and the two of them strode out the door. Mel stared after them, wondering why she couldn’t just get over him once and for all. What was so great about Clayt Carson, anyway? His ego went right off the top of the size chart, and God knew his skull was thicker than most. He’d always riled her, and he probably always would.

“You’ve gotta face it, sugar.”

Mel jumped for a second time in a matter of minutes, only to find Jillian, Lisa and DoraLee staring at her from the other side of the counter. “What did you say?” Mel asked.

DoraLee slanted her a soft smile. “I’m afraid that one of these days you’re gonna have to face the fact that Clayt Carson’s never gonna wake up where you’re concerned.”

DoraLee knew, too. That, at least, wasn’t so surprising. DoraLee Sullivan, the sole proprietor of the Crazy Horse Saloon, was pushing fifty. She’d had a hard life, and it showed, but she had a knack for keeping the local boys in check no matter how many beers they’d had. She was also the closest thing to a mother Mel had had in a long, long time.

Leaning closer, Jillian covered Mel’s hand with her own. “If it’s any consolation, I think that future brother-in-law of mine is blind.”

“That’s right,” Lisa said with a wink that had probably gotten her into a lot of trouble in her day. “If you want, I’ll have Wyatt arrest him.”

Glancing out the window to where Clayt was crossing the street, Mel said, “I don’t think that will be necessary, Lisa.”

She watched Clayt as he waited for Roy Everts to chug on by in his rusty, rattletrap of a truck. With a small wave and a smaller nod, he continued to the other side of the street.

The local folks claimed the only crimes in Jasper Gulch were jaywalking and gossip. There had been that little episode involving a pie thief a few months ago, and Lisa’s car had been missing temporarily. And then there was that horrible color of orange Bonnie Trumble had painted the Clip & Curl. As far as Mel was concerned, Clayt Carson’s cowboy swagger was the biggest crime of all.

“Aw, sugar,” DoraLee crooned. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I’m afraid it’s time you faced the fact that he’s never gonna pop the question you’ve been waiting all your life to hear.”

Mel sighed. “What would you say if I told you he already has?”

“He already has what, sugar?”

DoraLee’s question drew Mel’s gaze from the window. All three women had leaned closer, and all three seemed to see the light at the same time.

“Do you mean…”

“…my future brother-in-law…”

“…asked you to marry him?”

There wasn’t much Mel could do except nod.

“How?”

“When?”

“Where?”

Tipping her head toward a spot a little farther down the counter, Mel said, “He sort of popped the question right over there on Friday night.”

“I had no idea,” Jillian whispered.

“What did you say?” Lisa asked.

Mel shifted uncomfortably. “What do you think I said? I have a little pride, after all. I mean, what would you have done if Wyatt or Luke had said they were sort of hoping you’d marry them?”

Eyeing Mel with knowing brown eyes, Lisa said, “One thing comes to mind, but it isn’t very nice. What did you do?”

“I left him sitting with the worst cup of coffee he’d ever tasted while I stormed up to my place.”

“How awful,” Jillian murmured.

“Yes.” Mel’s lips twisting snidely. “You can see how disappointed he is.”

“No,” Jillian replied, “I meant for you. How awful for you.”

Mel sighed all over again. “Is it so wrong to dream of a little romance?”

DoraLee patted her bleached blond hair with one hand. “Maybe Boomer should give Clayt a few lessons in the romance department.”

The blossoming relationship between Boomer Brown and DoraLee Sullivan was another thing that had changed in Jasper Gulch, but DoraLee was right. There was nothing romantic about sort of.

Sighing, Mel whispered, “I want him to notice me. As a woman. As a desirable woman. Just look at me. Pretty silly, huh?”

“But you’re beautiful,” Jillian admonished.

“Yeah, right”

“You are,” Lisa insisted. “I noticed the first time we met.”

“Your beauty doesn’t flash like a neon sign,” Jillian said quietly. “It’s more subtle than that. Yours is the kind of beauty a person notices a little at a time.”

DoraLee nodded her head, a tender expression crossing her round face. “Shoot, sugar, I thought you knew that.”

Mel took her time looking into these three women’s eyes. Smoothing her fingers over the thick strands of hair secured in a loose braid over her shoulder, she said, “I appreciate the votes of confidence, but if I’m so danged beautiful, why hasn’t Clayt ever noticed?”

The expression in Lisa’s dark eyes changed. She drew Mel away from the cash register and circled around her. Within seconds DoraLee and Jillian were doing the same.

“Hmm,” Jillian murmured.

Chin in hand, Lisa said, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Jillian nodded. “I think it’s time she made him notice, don’t you?”

Mel eyed them both skeptically. “What do you mean?”

“How long have you worn your hair in a braid?” Lisa asked.

Without waiting for Mel to answer Lisa’s question, Jillian asked another. “Has Clayt ever seen you in a dress?”

Looking to DoraLee for help, Mel said, “He’s seen me in that blue jumper I wear to church.”

“Mel,” Lisa said, “how would you like to open Clayt Carson’s eyes once and for all?”

Fingering her hair with one hand, Mel thought about the way Clayt had smoothed Brittany Matthew’s short wispy strands off her cheek. “What would I have to do?”

Lisa sidled up to her. “The question is what are you willing to do?”

Mel looked at Lisa, and then at Jillian, but it wasn’t until she’d met DoraLee’s smiling blue eyes that she said, “What do you have in mind?”

DoraLee rubbed her hands together and laughed out loud. “Ooo-eee. Clayt Carson isn’t going to know-what hit him.”

“And I know the perfect time and place for the unveiling,” Lisa stated.

“At our double wedding,” she and Jillian said at the same time.

Mel tried to protest that that was only four days away, and Lisa and Jillian had too much to do already. Lisa and Jillian exchanged knowing grins.

“There’s plenty of time.”

“You just leave everything to us.”

Swallowing the trepidation that was fast becoming a-fistsized knot around her vocal chords, Mel hoped to high heaven she didn’t live to regret what she was about to do.

Organ music was playing softly when Mel slipped into a pew near the front of the church. Unobtrusively gliding to the center of the row, she glanced around to see if anybody had noticed.

So far, so good.

Candles flickered on the altar and on windowsills throughout the old-fashioned church. Daisies and mums tied up with white bows and pale yellow ribbons adorned the front of the church and the end of every pew. The church was a hundred years old, yet it was filled with a sense of excitement and urgency it hadn’t seen in a long time.

Wedding guests had started arriving twenty minutes ago, but it seemed that half of them were making a fuss over Hugh and Rita Carson, Luke and Clayt’s parents, who’d arrived home from Oregon yesterday morning. The other half—all area ranchers and cowboys—were tripping over each other in their efforts to draw Brittany Matthews into conversation. As a result, no one had paid any attention to the petite woman in the peach-colored dress who’d hugged the shadows in her efforts to remain unnoticed.

Mel smoothed her hand over the soft fabric of her dress and crossed her legs the way she’d practiced. She recognized most of the voices coming from the back of the church, from Boomer Brown’s booming baritone to Isabell Pruitt’s annoying whine, all the way to DoraLee’s infectious laughter. Today’s wedding would be the first in more than five years and the only double wedding in the history of Jasper Gulch. Automatically reaching for the braid that was no longer hanging over her shoulder, she smiled to herself. Melody McCully planned to make a little history of her own.

Talking in undertones, guests began filing in. A short time later Boomer ushered Clayt’s parents to the front pew on the right, while Jason Tucker ushered Ivy Pennington, a special guest of both brides, to the seat next to Mel. She smiled at the gray-haired lady, then glanced up to gauge Jason’s and Boomer’s reactions to the new Melody McCully. Looking stiff and uncomfortable in their suits and ties, they nodded nervously then hurried to the back of the old church, none the wiser.

Mel settled herself more comfortably in her seat and smiled to herself. Things were working perfectly. At this rate Clayt was going to be the first person to notice her, exactly as she’d planned.

Louetta Graham began to play another song on the organ, and the grooms took their places at the front of the church. Clayt, best man to both Luke and Wyatt, fell into line a few feet behind them. All three men were tall, all three were wearing dark suits, all three were handsome in their own right. Mel loved her brother, and she liked Luke Carson, but her heart beat a steady rhythm for Clayt alone.

His hair looked freshly cut and appeared darker beneath the flickering light of so many candles. His face was cleanshaven, his skin stretched taut over high cheekbones and that angular chin that could be so infuriatingly condescending. His nose was a little too wide to be considered aristocratic, and today his gray eyes looked serious and thoughtful.

At the first strains of the wedding march, everyone rose to their feet. Feeling tall in her new heels and giddy with joy and excitement, Mel held perfectly still, waiting for the moment when Clayt’s eyes would meet hers.

Clayt could see Luke and Wyatt in his peripheral vision. It had taken everything he could think of to keep them calm this past hour. The hard part was over. Now, all he had to do was hand them the rings at the appropriate time and his job would be done.

Patting his right pocket where he’d placed Luke’s and Jillian’s rings and his left pocket where he’d tucked Lisa’s and Wyatt’s, Clayt peered through the crowd where the first bridesmaid was slowly making her way to the front of the church. Jason Tucker almost fell out of his seat as Allison Delaney floated by. If Haley was half as graceful at sixteen as Allison, Clayt was going to be in big trouble. The woman who came next didn’t look old enough to be Allison’s mother, but he’d met Corinna Delaney, the maid of honor—a newlywed herself and a close friend to Jillian and Lisa from when they’d lived in Wisconsin—at the rehearsal last night, and she was definitely Allison’s mother.

His vision blurred, and for a moment he saw only a patch of pale peach. Before his eyes could focus, an “Ahh” wound through the church, and he turned his head slightly as Cletus McCully came into view, a red-haired bride on one arm, a dark-haired bride on the other. Clayt’s mother always said there was no such thing as a homely bride, but Lisa and Jillian were prettier than most. As Jillian took Luke’s arm and Lisa took Wyatt’s, Clayt felt a burgeoning sense of pride that he’d been instrumental in bringing these two women to Jasper Gulch.

Listening with only one ear to the words Reverend Jones was reciting from his frayed prayer book, Clayt patted his pockets one more time then glanced at the people who filled the old church. He’d never seen so many ranchers and cowboys without their hats, but he had to hand it to them—the local boys didn’t clean up too badly. His parents were sitting with Haley in the first pew across the aisle, and Opal Graham was sniffling into a lace handkerchief. Cletus McCully looked about as proud as he could be, and Ivy Pennington, the gray-haired lady sitting next to Cletus, dabbed at a tear on her cheek. Clayt caught sight of that peach-colored dress again, but before he’d gotten a good look at the woman wearing it, Reverend Jones asked everyone to take their seat.

Clayt glanced away and back again so quickly his vision blurred. Still, there was something familiar about the woman’s build and the efficient way she moved. As if in slow motion, his gaze finally came to rest on her face.

Eyes he’d seen nearly every day of his life met his. Eyes the color of violets. Lips that had uttered his name a thousand times lifted—lips that were pink and full and the tiniest bit trembly.

Mel.

She smiled, so tremulously, so delicately his mouth went dry. Reverend Jones’s voice was coming from someplace far away, but Clayt couldn’t make out the words over the explosion in his head. His eyes strayed to the wisps of hair brushing Mel’s eyebrows and the slightly longer tendrils grazing the base of her neck where her heavy braid used to be.

What the hell had she done to her hair?

He was vaguely aware that people were looking at him. And he thought he heard Reverend Jones clear his throat. But it was the repetitious movement of Mel’s head that finally got through to Clayt. He glanced at Luke and Wyatt, who were looking at him strangely. Through the roaring din in his ears, he heard his brother say, “The rings, Clayt. We need the rings.”

Clayt fumbled in his pockets, came up empty-handed, and fumbled again. By the time he’d given the proper rings to the right couple, the din in his ears had turned into a silent hush that was even more unsettling.

While Luke and Jillian, and Wyatt and Lisa, exchanged sacred vows and wedding rings, Clayt told himself he’d been imagining his reaction to Mel. To prove it, he cast another glance in her direction. For a moment he froze all over again. Everyone else in the church was looking at the brides and grooms. Mel was looking at him.

His mouth went slack, and the strangest sensation began to uncurl low in his belly. Somehow managing to tear his gaze away, he clamped his mouth shut and told himself to get a grip.