laughed. “And you get some work done. Cut back on the fun.”
She hung up with Jasmine and called her mother next.
As expected, the call went to voice mail. “Mama, I just wanted you to know that I’m in Montana for business. I’m going to be here for a few weeks. Call me when you get a minute.” Her mother worked odd hours at the post office in Syracuse, her hometown. She hoped to make enough money one day to convince her mother to retire. The woman had worked hard all of her life. Lydia wanted her mother to take a moment to relax.
Lydia decided to have lunch delivered to her room.
While she waited for her food to arrive, Lydia sat down on the sofa and pulled a folder out of her leather tote.
A photograph fell into her lap.
Wesley Broward was a very handsome man, indeed. Thirty years old and single, although it was rumored that he had left a string of broken hearts all over the Mountain States. Lydia could clearly understand why women were so drawn to him—those sexy brown eyes and smooth complexion except for the neatly trimmed mustache and goatee. According to her notes, he stood six feet tall and was well-fit and muscular. Lydia knew that Wesley wasn’t much of a society man, but someone with his wealth could not completely escape the attention of gossip columns and news magazines.
She was looking forward to meeting the Broward family, but Lydia was especially excited at the prospect of getting to know Wesley. Her eyes traveled to his face.
It was so easy to get lost in those intense eyes of his, she cautioned herself. Lydia reminded herself that she was not in Granger to fall in love with a cowboy. As soon as her work was finished, Lydia intended to return to Los Angeles.
* * *
Wesley strolled outside after everyone had finished eating breakfast. It was time to get his day started. He paused on the porch, allowing the subtle warmth from the morning sun to embrace him.
“I guess you’ll be adding another broken heart to your list after tomorrow night,” Jameson said as he stood beside Wesley.
“Actually, I have no intentions of getting involved with my date. It’s too much trouble,” he responded. “What about you? Women in Granger have been trying to tie you down for years.”
“Not for the right reasons,” Jameson said. His lips curved upward. “And I have enough sense to leave it at one date. But then again, no one has ever tossed their underwear onstage to me.”
Recalling the incident, Wesley burst into laughter. “I forgot all about that. The auction last year did get a little wild. That auction was the cowboy’s equivalent of a rock concert. I felt like a rock star.”
Jameson chuckled. “All right, Rock Star...let’s get our horses and take a ride.”
They made their way to the stables and quickly saddled their horses.
Minutes later, the cool, April morning stillness was punctured by the slapping of saddle leather, the jingling of spurs and the rhythmic beat of horses’ hooves on the soft ground as Wesley and Jameson rode their horses down the road toward the pasture where the workers had taken the cattle to graze.
“I’m going to ride around the perimeter,” Wesley stated. He usually performed a check every other day to make sure there were no broken or stretched wires, broken posts, fallen trees or branches on the fence line.
There was a time when he was excited to be outside with the cattle, but things had changed lately. He was restless.
Ranching was in his blood. Wesley was born into the lifestyle, but there was a longing—a longing to try something new. He just had no idea what he wanted to do. It wasn’t what he considered a burning desire, but an itch to explore the possibilities was severe enough to stay in the forefront of his mind.
His mother considered his restlessness as a sign to settle down with a wife and have a family of his own. Wesley wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea of marriage; it was finding the right woman that presented a challenge. He had already decided that he would have to look outside Granger for a wife. Most of the women he had come in contact with seemed to have more of an interest in the family wealth than in him. His parents were both well-off when they met and married. Wesley believed he would have to find a woman who already had financial security to take as his mate.
He valued honesty above all other qualities. The rumor mill had him painted as a ladies’ man, but while he enjoyed the attention of women, he had no patience when it came to manipulation and deceit.
* * *
Lydia turned around slowly as she eyed her reflection in the full-length mirror. The dress really was gorgeous and cost more than what she made in a month. Thankfully, she had not been the one to foot the bill for it.
In keeping her true identity a secret, it was important that she dress the part, as well. She was about to mingle with some of Montana’s wealthiest residents. Lydia inhaled deeply, and then exhaled.
Please don’t let me make a fool of myself, she prayed.
This should be easy, Lydia silently reasoned. After all, she had been pretending most of her life. Her father left when she was young and appeared sporadically throughout her teen years. The story Lydia told to her friends growing up was that his absence was because he worked overseas. No one ever knew how hard it was for Lydia and her mother to make ends meet.
At one point, her mother worked two jobs, leaving Lydia to fend for herself. When she started high school, her mother landed employment with the post office where she was now a supervisor.
Lydia shook away thoughts of the past. She wanted only to focus on the present, and right now she had a gala to attend.
She grabbed her clutch purse and made her way downstairs to the ballroom where the gala was being held.
Shortly after Lydia’s arrival, Wesley strolled into the ballroom alongside his brother, causing a stir among the ladies in attendance.
She was careful to stay out of sight. Lydia wanted a chance to observe Wesley without his knowledge.
He was very handsome, and from his body language, it was obvious that Wesley knew that he looked good.
He was well aware of the magnetism he exuded. Lydia was sure of it. She was by no means blinded by his appeal, but such an attraction could prove disastrous. Lydia was determined to do exactly what she came to do—nothing more. The last thing she intended to do was get involved with a cowboy. She couldn’t imagine anything they would have in common.
She took note of his parents when they arrived with daughter Laney. The Browards were a stunning family. Steven stood tall like his sons; he was bald with a graying beard. His wife, Gwendolyn, was a tall woman with a medium brown complexion and intelligent eyes that missed nothing. Wesley’s sister had an athletic build, although she moved about gracefully. She wore her long brown hair straight.
The patriarch, Charles Broward, entered the room within minutes of the rest of the family, smiling and even flirting with a few of the women. He was still a handsome man with distinctive blue eyes despite his advanced age.
Lydia noticed a couple of females staring in her direction and whispering. Most likely, they were discussing her. After all, she was the interloper.
