his attention to his breakfast, he took a few bites of peppered scrambled eggs and then glanced back at the crossed-out words on the piece of paper beside his plate. He shook his head and fingered another wadded up sheet, one of many he’d attempted in his search to find the right words. Maybe this was a crazy notion. He hadn’t told anyone about his plan. Would anyone understand? Hell, he wasn’t sure he did. His friends would probably laugh until they turned blue.
Over the next hour, his gaze kept sliding away from the task at hand toward the new waitress. She had a quick, eager smile and bright discerning hazel eyes that were fringed with long, swooping lashes. Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he visited with several neighbors, folks he’d grown up with. They were ranchers and farmers, all about to head home to finish their chores, which was where he should go before picking up Haley from kindergarten. But he stayed on.
Four cups of coffee later, he shoved his fingers through his hair in frustration. He felt as jittery as a bull on the auction block. Maybe it was the caffeine. Or maybe it was that pretty waitress fluttering by his table and watching him so intently. This time, when she started to pour him another cup of coffee, he held up his hand. He’d had enough. Of the stout brew and his own stupidity.
“Are you a student?” she asked, propping a hand on her slim hip. “Trying to write an English paper or something?”
His frown deepened as he wadded up another page. “Working on an ad for the paper, but not having much luck.”
“Yeah?” As quick as the weather could change in Texas, she slid into the opposite side of his booth. “It’s slow, and you’re my only customer left. Maybe I can help you out. I took an advertising class once when I lived in Dallas. What are you selling? Cattle, horses, an old truck?”
His throat dried up like Cactus Creek had last summer. The woman had soft expectant eyes that seemed to peer right into his soul. She looked as if she’d seen a lot in her young years and might not be shocked by the truth. Like others in this town. But his suddenly thick tongue stumbled over the words like a teenage boy talking to a pretty new girl at school.
“Is it a secret?” she asked, leaning forward.
In a way. But not for long. If anyone discovered his plan, gossip would spread like wildfire during a drought. That’s what had him stumped. How would it affect Haley? He toyed with his coffee spoon, turning it over and over. Finally he found his voice and answered “Me.”
Frowning, she dipped her chin. “Me what?”
“Me.” He thumped his chest. “I’m for sale.”
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
