like Ben declared that she was perfect, she’d take it with a grain of salt, but she’d take it. “Then let’s go down.”
“Now I’m not sure if I pass inspection or not.”
“Don’t worry.” She smiled at him. “You’re perfect, too.” That was the main problem with him, in fact. If she were to design her ideal man, he would look exactly like Ben. She just hoped he wouldn’t turn out to be the guy who would haunt her dreams once she left Wyoming.
BEN WASN’T SURE what to do about his instant attraction to the impish woman descending the staircase beside him. He tended to go for tall and curvy. Molly was short and on the skinny side. He’d never finished college, which didn’t matter for his saddle making, but he’d steered away from dating scholars because he wasn’t sure how to talk to them. Molly was a college professor.
And yet she didn’t act much like one, or the way he thought a college professor would behave. He didn’t have a lot of experience to go on, but he’d had no trouble talking to her. He liked talking to her, in fact. She was so full of energy, so happy. He imagined that he could see her glowing, and not just when she blushed because she’d put her foot in her mouth.
That was part of why she charmed him. Apparently he flustered her, which made him want to fluster her more just to see the pink bloom on her cheeks. But that didn’t explain the visceral tug he’d felt when she’d walked down the hall toward him, or the surge of desire he’d felt when she made a slow turn, allowing him to view her from all sides.
She hadn’t done it in a suggestive way, as if trying to showcase her body. Yet he’d had the almost irresistible urge to get his hands on her. He still had that urge. He had no trouble imagining what she’d feel like beneath him, a small but explosive bundle of heat. He had a hunch she’d drive him crazy.
Maybe he was drawn to her because of the advance billing. He’d been curious to meet the woman who had no problem pestering all three Chance men for what she wanted. After watching his mother’s mouse-like behavior for years, he admired any female who stood up for herself. He might never marry, but if he did, it would be to someone who refused to be intimidated by anyone, especially him.
“So, where are you from, Ben?”
Her question brought him back to reality. He’d already pictured them in bed together and she didn’t even know where he lived. “Sheridan.”
“Really? That’s fabulous! Maybe you can help me track down two of my relatives, an aunt and a cousin.”
“Maybe. I’ve lived there for seven years.”
“I hope so. It’s not a huge place. My aunt’s married name was Heather Marlowe. At least, that’s what it was last time we heard from her, although that was a long time ago. She was in Sheridan then.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“My cousin’s name is Cade. His dad was a bull rider, Rance Marlowe, although he’d be too old to do that now. From what I’ve heard, he wasn’t a very nice guy. Aunt Heather might have divorced him, but nobody knows because she stopped writing or calling.”
“Sorry, but I don’t think I’ve met anybody named Marlowe.”
Molly sighed. “It was worth a shot. I’ve investigated online but I got nowhere. Rance followed the rodeo circuit and was never in one place for long. My aunt trailed after him and brought little Cade along, too. Well, he’s not so little anymore. He’d be the same age as I am, twenty-eight.”
He considering pointing out that she was still little, even at twenty-eight, but he figured she’d probably had her fill of short-person jokes. “So they might have had some tough times financially along the way?”
She paused at the foot of the stairs and turned to him. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Why?”
“They might have made use of social services there. I know a retired social worker. Maybe she’d remember something, or could ask around.”
“That’s a great idea. I didn’t think of that, but it gives me another avenue. Thanks!”
“She lives not too far from Sheridan at a place called Thunder Mountain Ranch. I—” He caught himself right before he screwed up. He’d been about to announce that he’d made a couple of saddles for Rosie and Herb, but his profession wasn’t supposed to be common knowledge yet. “The Padgetts are good people. He’s a retired equine vet. For years they also took in foster boys, but they don’t do that anymore. Anyway, Rosie knows a lot of people in town. She might have information.”
The tension eased from her eyes and she smiled. “I’d run out of ideas, so I’m thrilled to have a new lead. My family always wondered what became of Cade, especially my grandpa.”
“The harmonica player.”
“Yes. Losing touch with Aunt Heather and Cade made him sad. And of course Heather’s my dad’s sister. I think he’s resigned to the idea that she doesn’t want to hang around with the Gallagher family anymore, but he’s told me that he wonders where she is. When I started working on this family tree project, tracking them down was one of my goals, especially because my dad still thinks about them.”
“Then I wish you luck with it. Now that I know what names to listen for, I’ll pay more attention once I get back home. Maybe I’ll stumble across somebody who’s heard of them.”
“Excellent! I’ll give you my phone number in case you find anything. You’ll be my man in Sheridan.”
He couldn’t help grinning. “Okay.”
Her cheeks turned that wonderful shade of pink again. “That didn’t come out quite right.”
“It came out fine as far as I’m concerned.”
Her blush deepened. “Um, well...I didn’t mean to imply that I considered you my...” Then she groaned. “I’m going to stop now before I make this worse than it already is. Sarah’s going to wonder what the heck we’re standing here yakking about. Let’s go get us some drinks.”
“Works for me.” Still smiling, he walked beside her into the living room. She was not a flirt by any stretch, and yet she was clearly interested in him. Earlier he’d wondered what to do about his attraction to her. He might not have to do a damned thing except wait and let nature take its course.
The ranch’s beautiful setting wouldn’t hurt, either. The living room looked like a scene out of a Christmas card, with pine boughs and ribbons everywhere, plus candles on the mantel. Flames danced in the big stone fireplace, and a ten-foot Scotch pine in the corner glittered with lights, ornaments and garlands.
Sarah and Pete both got up from their leather armchairs. Through Ben’s cursory internet research, he’d discovered that Sarah’s first husband, Jonathan, had died several years ago and she’d since married Pete Beckett. Pete was tall, like Sarah, and lanky, with gray hair and gentle blue eyes. He was a philanthropist who’d dreamed up the Last Chance’s summer program for disadvantaged kids. He had the relaxed air of someone who’d found his place in the world. Ben wondered if that time would ever come for him.
Sarah
