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Her eyes widened. For a moment she only blinked. Then her jaw snapped shut. “Well, that’s a new one.” She pushed against the table to make her escape. “Pardon me for intruding.”
He stopped her with a hand on her arm, stunning himself with a sudden need to unload his troubles. But why to this stranger? Maybe it was the sweetness of her smile, the knowing glimmer in her eyes or maybe it was the fact that she didn’t know him. Whatever it was, he figured she might understand. And he desperately needed to bounce his crazy idea off someone. “That didn’t come out right. It’s not what you think. Let me explain.”
She hesitated. Her eyes darkened, like oak leaves in late summer.
When he felt the muscles in her arm relax, he released his grip. His fingers burned where they’d touched her smooth bare skin. “Sorry.”
She didn’t answer, just stared at him with those perceptive eyes and waited. Waited for him to continue.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, settled his hand on his Stetson which lay on the seat beside him. He wished he’d kept silent. And kept his damn hands to himself. But he hadn’t. Ever since Haley had broken his heart three weeks ago with her innocent questions, he hadn’t been himself. He ran the palm of his hand down the top of his jeans-covered thigh. Now he owed this woman an explanation for his odd behavior.
What had the waitress said her name was? “Elise?”
She nodded.
“I’m Cole. Cole Dalton. I own a spread just on the outskirts of town.” He wanted her to know he wasn’t loco. He was local. He had roots here that went back four generations. She didn’t have to fear him. But he saw only wariness and a thin slice of interest in her eyes.
She nodded again, still waiting for his explanation.
“Hell, maybe I am crazy.” He thrust his fingers through his already rumpled hair. “I’m really not trying to sell myself.” But it felt like it.
He glanced around the inside of the diner. It was empty, except for the clattering in the back as Chuck, the owner, banged pots and pans in the kitchen, getting ready for the lunch crowd which would descend on the diner in about thirty minutes.
“You don’t have to worry,” she said, giving him a sympathetic smile. “I can keep things to myself.”
He took a deep breath and then plunged in feet first. “I’m trying to find a mail-order bride.”
Elise was sure she hadn’t heard him right. Was this sexy cowboy with the dark-brown hair and sky-blue eyes trying to tell her he couldn’t find a wife on his own? What kind of a town was this if a handsome man had to advertise for a wife?
Then she stopped herself. She’d fallen for a pair of friendly eyes and a dimpled smile before. Maybe this cowboy was simply feeding her a line, like Rusty had. Or maybe the women in town knew him better than she did…and there was a good reason why no one wanted to marry him. Still, the red hue brightening the tips of his ears told her he wasn’t proud of the fact that he was taking out an ad for a wife.
Wary, yet even more curious by the minute, she asked, “Women that scarce around here?”
He shrugged. “Most are married, sixty-five and widowed, or young enough for me to risk a jail sentence.”
“I see.” But she didn’t. It made about as much sense as her following Rusty to this desolate area of Texas where tumbleweeds outnumbered the cattle. She knew folks did odd things for strange, sometimes inexplicable, reasons. She admitted Cole had piqued her curiosity. She rested her elbows on the edge of the table and clasped her hands. “Amarillo’s only an hour or so drive from here. You don’t think you can find a wife the conventional way?”
“Tried that once. Failed.”
Something in his voice hinted at deep-seated pain. Boy, could she relate. She hadn’t fared so well in the love arena, either. She’d thought she’d been in love. Thought it had been mutual. But she realized now, she’d been looking for a home, a family, and she’d wanted—needed—more than that restless cowboy had to give.
“It happens,” she said, recognizing the pain in her chest was not agony but embarrassment over her own foolhardiness. She had her own reasons for giving up on love, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a romantic at heart or that she believed this good-looking rancher should. Surely he could find himself a woman who’d love him. “One failed marriage doesn’t mean you can’t find someone else.”
“I’m not looking for love.” His voice was deep and flat, almost devoid of emotion, and sent a scintillating shiver down her spine. “I simply want a wife.”
“Why?” She cleared her throat. “I mean, excuse me, it’s probably not my business, but couldn’t you just hire a maid or something? For whatever it is you’re looking for?”
Her face flamed. Maybe he wanted sex. And she’d just suggested he hire out…Oh, heavens!
His grip on the coffee mug turned his knuckles white. He had hard, calloused hands, accustomed to hard labor. She wondered if his heart was as battered as his hands. “I want a mother for my daughter.”
His answer stunned her, knocking her back against the seat. Suddenly she saw this man in a whole new light. He was a single father, probably frustrated with his role, irritated with the stranglehold of family obligations. He probably wanted to dump the burden on some unsuspecting female. Rankled, she said, “Then hire a nanny.”
“Been there already. I need someone more permanent than a hired hand who can up and leave at the drop of a hat.”
Maybe he was thinking about his kid more than himself. Maybe. Then again, more than a wife he might need a whack on the head for a good attitude adjustment. “How old is your kid?”
His eyes brightened, the deep blue turning the color of a radiant summer sky, at the mention of his daughter. Then he smiled. Really smiled. Elise felt her heart lurch. She’d been right—he did have dimples. Which made her stomach flutter.
“Haley’s five going on sixteen,” he said.
As suddenly as her animosity had risen like a churning river, emotions dammed her throat. Her own father had never shown such pride in speaking about her. In fact, he’d never done anything for her but dump her at an orphanage when she was twelve days old and make darn sure she could never find him or her mother again.
But this man Cole…this rancher…smiled when he talked about his daughter.
She cleared her throat, trying to dull the dazzling effect of his smile. But she couldn’t forget the shimmer of joy in his eyes or the vibration of pride in his voice when he spoke of his precocious child.
Remembering the way she’d given the nuns fits with her own antics, she gave a soft chuckle and fingered the apron around her waist. She could tell that Cole’s daughter had wrapped her father around her little finger. It made Elise long for what she’d never had—would never have. “I was described the same way when I was a kid.”
Cole’s smile faded into a worried frown. He tapped his fingers anxiously on the table. “She needs a mother. Not a nanny. Not a maid.” He paused, and the sparkle in his eyes dimmed. “She needs more than I can give her.”
The raw pain in his voice sounded like disappointment and made Elise’s insides clench with understanding. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch this stranger, to reassure him, to soothe his troubled brow. This wasn’t any of her business. Why did she always get too involved?
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “Haley’s the best. She never gives me any trouble. But I know she’s not happy.” He ducked his head, as if ashamed of his confession.
Elise recognized despair when she saw it. She’d lived with it as a child. She’d learned to cope and face each day with a bright outlook, because she only had herself to rely on. To survive she had had to ignore the weak emotions of disappointment and overcome rejection and pain. If she hadn’t thought something better was always around the corner, then she never would have survived puberty. “How do you know she’s unhappy?”
“She told me.” He gave a slight shrug, making his chambray shirt pull tight across his well-muscled chest. “Not in so many words. But well…she wants a ‘happily ever after.”’ He looked at her then, the blue of his eyes darkening with sorrow and regret. “You know, like in fairy tales. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that doesn’t happen in real life.”
Elise understood Cole then—the hope he’d once had and the heartbreaking reality he’d experienced. Much like her own. She suspected he had a soft, compassionate heart beating beneath that rock-hard exterior. At least where his daughter was concerned. “So, you’re going to give her as close a version as you can?”
“I’m going to try my damnedest.”
The conviction in his voice made her believe him. Her heart clenched into a tight knot as she met his determined gaze. His firm, square jaw told her he could do anything he set his mind to. For some crazy reason she wanted to help him. Uneasy with her attraction to the rugged rancher with the soulful eyes, she tapped her finger on his pad of paper. “Then you’ll need a damn good ad. Maybe we should start with what paper you were thinking of advertising in? Desert Springs?”
“Not a smart move. I need a more populated place.” He lowered his voice as if Chuck might overhear in the kitchen. “Where folks don’t know me.” He shook his head. “Not because I’m embarrassed or worried about what they might think. I simply want the marriage to look real. If folks here learn the truth, then it will only be a matter of time before Haley figures out it’s all a charade.”
An emotion Elise hadn’t felt in far too long tightened her chest. This man would do anything for his daughter. His sweet tenderness touched her in a way no one had in years. “That seems wise. So maybe you should advertise in Dallas or Houston.”
“Both, probably.”
“Okay.” She reached for his pad of paper and pen. “What kind of a wife are you looking for?”
His brow furrowed, pulling his dark eyebrows together. “Well…someone who likes kids. Obviously.” He clasped his hands together, tapped his thumbs nervously. “Someone who’s kind, sincere. Who’d be content to live on a ranch. A down-to-earth woman, who’s not caught up in fashion or getting her nails done every week.” His gaze locked on Elise’s and made her swallow hard with anticipation. “A woman who wants to be a part of a family.”
His answer struck a vulnerable nerve in Elise, and she felt the resonating pain all the way through her soul. Her heart pumped as if it might burst loose from the confines of her chest. He hadn’t said “pretty, able to do backbreaking work and a good cook.” He was offering a family. What she’d always wanted.
Trying to concentrate, paraphrasing his words, she scribbled notes on the page. The letters blurred as hot, aching tears pressed against the backs of her eyes. Ashamed of her weakness, she blinked them away as she had so often in her life and clenched the pen tightly.
Pushing back a glimmer of hope, she managed to ask, “Anything else?”
He nodded. “Someone who can make a commitment and stick with it.”
She wondered if he were looking for the impossible. She’d learned long ago that promises were meant to be broken. At least by others. When she’d wrestled her turbulent emotions under control, she looked up at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “And what do you have to offer this make-believe marriage?”
This time he sat back against the seat. “What?”
“You want some woman to move out here and live with you as man and wife, tend to your child, and I assume do her wifely duties like cooking and cleaning and…” Heat stung her cheeks and she glanced away, unable to meet his intense gaze.
A palpable pause thrummed between them. Elise toyed with her pen, turning it over and over between her numb fingers. Why had she gotten involved with this man’s problem? Why did he make her yearn for something she’d long ago given up on?
She didn’t care if he found a wife or what he and this new wife would or would not do in an intimate setting. Good grief! What had gotten into her?
“Look,” she said, breaking the silence, “you have to bring something to the table, something of value. Why would a woman who doesn’t know or love you want to marry you? What are you offering?”
He ran his fingers through his hair, making dark brown tufts stand on end. The lines around his eyes and those bracketing his mouth deepened with tension. “I hadn’t really thought in those terms.” He rocked forward, then back. “But you’re right. She ought to know what she’s getting. I’m no lottery ticket. No real prize. At least that’s what my ex-wife said.”
She’d almost expected him to start cataloging his selling points. Rusty certainly would have. But she was beginning to realize that Cole Dalton wasn’t like the showboat she’d followed out west.
After a slow, thoughtful breath, Cole stated, “I’m offering a home. A family.” His mouth compressed into a firm, thin line. “I make a decent living. Nothing fancy. But I can provide for a wife and my child. I’m honest. Faithful. And loyal.” He gave a sputtering laugh. “Jeez, I sound like a hound dog for sale.”
She smiled at his analogy. He was anything but. And much, much more. Her pulse skittered at the thought of the possibilities. More anxious to hear his response to her next question than she cared to admit, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Do you want more kids?”
He blew out a pent-up breath. “You ask tough questions. Are you sure you didn’t take a class at the Barbara Walter’s school of journalism?”
She chuckled. “I’m sure.”
He turned his attention to the sun-splattered window that looked out onto the main thoroughfare that bisected Desert Springs. In the distance, a car horn blared. A furry dog pranced past, hunting for a scrap of food or his owner.
Elise watched Cole—the sternness of his profile, the decisive way his nose slanted toward his chin, the hard curve of his determined jaw.
Finally, his lips thinned, and he spoke. “I used to want a whole passel of kids. I was raised in the house where I live now. It’s a rambling old place. Been on our land for four generations.” He rubbed his palms together, and then clasped his hands, folding his long fingers, making Elise remember his gentle yet firm touch earlier. A warmth spread through her limbs, and she had a hard time concentrating on his next words. “I was an only child. It was a lonely existence.”
It sounded heavenly to Elise. She imagined the total adoration of two parents being focused on one child—her. The air in her lungs compressed.
“My folks wanted more kids, but were never able to have any more. I always wanted to give them plenty of grandkids, to fill up all the bedrooms in the house. Hear the laughter…”
“The shrieks. The arguments,” Elise added, remembering what it was like to grow up in an orphanage with at least twelve kids to a room. She’d always dreamed of a peaceful home, some place quiet and calm. She’d imagined a town much like Desert Springs where not much happened but where plenty of folks cared about each other, a place she could be a citizen, a neighbor, a member of the P.T.A. As she’d grown older, she’d started helping out with the younger kids. She’d enjoyed spending time with them, helping them get dressed, supervising their playtime. And she’d started dreaming of a family of her own.
She placed a hand over her stomach. Someday, she thought, someday soon. She wouldn’t have all of her dream. But she’d have a small, precious part.
“Maybe that was simply a fairy tale I’d conjured up,” Cole said. “Maybe it would have been more chaotic than I imagined.” He shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to discuss the possibility of more kids with the woman who answers the ad to be my wife.”
“You sound like there will be only one.”
In an aw-shucks manner, he shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’ll be lucky if there is one.”
She had a feeling women would flock to this little town on the edge of nowhere to meet this tender cowboy and his child. Suddenly a part of her didn’t want to help with the advertisement. Because she’d started contemplating something foolish and inconceivable.
Maybe, just maybe, his solution was the answer she’d been looking for.
One week later, Elise jounced the borrowed truck over the cattle guard and down the graveled drive toward a large, two-story farmhouse that looked better than Cole had described. And even better than she’d imagined. A white picket fence surrounded it. Tiny pink flowers in the yard battled the May heat. A solitary tree leaned toward the side of the house in the direction she’d learned the wind always blew here in west Texas. On either side of the house were sprawling fields dotted with rusty brown-and-white speckled cows.
A hot, stiff breeze blew through the open window of the truck and brought the scent of earth and animals. She parked in front of the house, breathed in the warm air, absorbed the sights and knew she’d finally come home. This was where she wanted to stay. Now, she simply had to convince Cole that she was the wife he needed.
The truck’s door squeaked as she opened it and stepped out of the dusty cab. She fluffed out her loose-fitting skirt that felt sticky against the backs of her thighs from the oppressive heat in Chuck’s non-air-conditioned pickup. Sunshine warmed her shoulders and made her squint as she turned toward the house.
Maybe she should have called first. But then if she had, Cole might have turned her down flat. No, she had a better chance in person. Not that she had much to offer, she thought, in the looks department. She was of average height, but her features had always seemed plain to her. She was too pale and had too many freckles. She’d never measured up to other children at the orphanage who’d been adopted early. Meanwhile, she’d been left waiting…waiting for someone to want her.
Well, she wasn’t going to wait any longer. She’d done her homework by asking questions about Cole Dalton. She’d learned he was a respected rancher in the community. No one had a bad word to say against him. All had confirmed what she’d suspected—he cared deeply for his daughter. What more could she ask for than an honest, upstanding man who loved being a father?
So what if love wasn’t a bargaining chip? She’d realized a long time ago that Prince Charming wasn’t going to ride up and save her. There wasn’t always a perfect situation. She’d take what she could get. If she could get Cole.
She marched up the steps to the house and rang the doorbell. Impatiently she tapped her foot. Her nerves were tangled up like a ball of yarn. What would Cole say when he saw her? Would he laugh at her audacity? Would he turn her away? Her insides twisted and knotted, but she squared her shoulders. She’d been rejected before. If Cole laughed at her now, it wouldn’t kill her.
“Hello.” The voice came from behind her, and she swung around to find Cole at the bottom of the steps.
Her gaze stuck to his sweat-slicked bare chest. His rock-hard, suntanned muscles gleamed in the sunlight as if he were a marble statue. But she knew he was flesh and blood. She’d felt his electric touch the week before. Now she couldn’t stop staring at the play of muscles along his chest. Her mouth went bone dry, and she couldn’t have swallowed to save her life.
Casually, he leaned against a white-painted post. With his thumb he tipped his cowboy hat backwards on his head, framing his face with shadows and sunlight. Slowly her gaze slid down the length of him. He wore tight-fitting faded jeans and a pair of scuffed boots. At that moment she began to doubt the wisdom of coming here.
“Elise?” he asked, his voice crisp as an early morning chill.
She nodded, feeling as if the heat had zapped her ability to think or speak. Her purse slipped off her shoulder, and she grabbed for it. Twisting the strap around her fingers and cutting off the circulation, she hoped blood would rush back to her brain and she’d be able to answer his simple question. “Hi.”
His mouth remained firm and unmoving.
She scuffed the soles of her shoes against the porch planks. What am I doing here? The silence echoed between them. Cole lifted his Stetson, ran his fingers through his thick brown hair and then lowered the brim. It shaded his eyes and thoughts from her, unnerving her even more.
She had to get a firm grip on herself and take charge. “I came about the ad.”
Cole’s silence weighed heavily on her. He crossed his arms over his chest, making his shoulders appear as wide as the Texas landscape.
She swallowed the last of her pride. “Have you sent it to the papers yet?”
“Nope.”
“Good. I mean, uh…” Her thoughts became scrambled beneath the heat of his gaze. “I have an idea that you might want to consider. That is, if you’re still interested.”
He gave a slow nod. “It’s warm today.” He ran his hand down his chest. Sweat clung to his skin, making it shimmer in the sunlight.
Her pulse skittered.
“I could probably hunt us up something cool to drink. Come on in.”
“Sure.” She clasped her purse at her waist, feeling as awkward as a girl about to ask a boy to a Sadie Hawkins dance. “That’d be nice.”
He walked up the steps in a slow, sauntering way that only a cowboy could manage. He pushed open the door and nodded for her to enter ahead of him. Doffing his hat, he hung it on a peg inside the door.
