One Wild Cowboy and A Cowboy To Marry: One Wild Cowboy / A Cowboy to Marry. Cathy Thacker Gillen

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      He felt the same.

      This was not the way he wanted the respected horse rancher and his accomplished wife to see him. Especially given all he now had at stake, with a soon-to-be-announced deal Emily apparently knew nothing about. Otherwise, Dylan was sure she would have mentioned it.

      Not about to apologize for kissing Emily—even if it would smooth over what was an incredibly awkward situation—Dylan nodded at the older couple. He said formally, “Mr. and Mrs. McCabe. Nice to see you.”

      “Good to see you, Dylan,” Shane and Greta McCabe replied, in unison.

      “Emily.” A cautioning lilt was in Greta McCabe’s tone as she took in her daughter. “Your father and I just met the proprietor of the new restaurant.”

      “I hope he’s not the guy you’re planning to fix me up with,” Emily said.

      For some reason, Dylan noted, that notion seemed to amuse them.

      “Ah—no,” Shane said finally.

      Unconvinced, Emily narrowed her eyes at her parents. “You’re sure?”

      “Absolutely,” Greta said, her tone definitive.

      “Because I can see how that would seem to make sense to you,” Emily continued, working up a head of steam. “Me and the new diner owner, becoming a thing.”

      “Believe us,” her mother said firmly, “the two of you are not a match your father and I would ever try and make.”

      “That’s too bad,” said a smug teenager with trendy, bleached-blond hair, catching the tail end of their conversation as he sauntered in to join them.

      He was just under six feet tall, wearing a burnt-orange Cowtown Diner T-shirt, jeans and the most ridiculously expensive and ornate pair of ostrich boots and gold belt buckle Dylan had ever seen.

      Ignoring him, the kid grinned at Emily and extended his hand. “Because I would very much like to get to know...and date...you!”

      * * *

      EMILY’S JAW DROPPED even as she did the polite thing and accepted the proffered greeting.

      “Xavier Shillingsworth, owner of the soon-to-be-open Cowtown Diner.” The teen continued holding her hand long after it would have been polite to let go. He leaned in even closer, inundating Emily with expensive cologne. “And you must be the Emily McCabe, head chef and owner of the Daybreak Café, that I’ve heard so much about.”

      Emily forced a smile and wrested her hand from the young man’s grip. “Yes. I am.”

      Xavier continued sizing her up with undisguised interest. “I hear we’re going to be in hot competition with each other—since our two restaurants are the only table-service establishments in Laramie that serve breakfast.”

      Emily had been brought up to be courteous, even to those who were pushy and borderline rude. And that rule went double in business situations. “I’m sure there is room for both of our establishments,” she said pleasantly, injecting the situation with the down-home hospitality for which Laramie, Texas, was known.

      “If not, may the best restaurateur win,” Xavier taunted. Grinning confidently, he aimed a thumb at his chest and proclaimed, “I know who my money’s on!”

      The look in his eyes briefly telegraphing he’d had enough, Dylan stepped forward, putting his tall body between Xavier and Emily. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Dylan Reeves. One of the ranchers in the area. And I know a lot of people here tonight who would like to meet you, too. Especially Emily’s three brothers. So why don’t we go—” Dylan slapped a companionable hand on Xavier’s shoulder and spun him around toward the door “—and talk up your new establishment.”

      Quick steps were made, and the door shut behind them.

      “That was nice of Dylan,” Greta said.

      “No kidding.” Emily breathed a sigh of relief.

      Shane shook his head. “Shillingsworth is going to be unpleasantly competitive.”

      Emily rolled her eyes. “You think?”

      “So, if you need help putting him in his place...” Shane growled, all protective father.

      Emily lifted a palm. “I can handle the situation, Dad. Just like I can figure out, on my own, how to rev up my personal life.”

      “So it’s true?” her mom interrupted, with furrowed brow. “You do have a date with Dylan this evening?”

      Talk about putting her on the spot! “In a manner of speaking...” Emily cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I know you mean well, but I really don’t need any help finding a man to hang out with. So I’d rather not hear any suggestions on who I should be seeing. And I certainly don’t want to be fixed up on any dates by anyone in the family!”

      Finished, Emily braced herself for the emotional argument sure to come. Instead, to her utter amazement, her mother completely backed off. “You’re right,” Greta murmured, looking at Shane for verification, as if wanting to make sure they were on the same page.

      Shane locked eyes with Greta. Something passed between them. “It would be a mistake for us to try to matchmake at this point,” Emily’s father concluded finally.

      Well, that was easy, Emily thought with relief. Astoundingly...almost suspiciously...so.

      “We came in to tell you that the opening ceremony is about to start,” Greta said.

      “I’ll be right there,” Emily promised. “I just need to get a few trays of chocolate and lemon-meringue pies.”

      “We’ll all help,” her dad said.

      Five minutes later, the pies were set out on the buffet tables. Shane and Greta—the charity event’s hosts—were stepping up to the microphones. They spoke about the Libertyville Boys Ranch, and how much the facility helped juvenile delinquents turn their lives around.

      “The institution has been so successful, they are expanding again. The problem is, they need more therapy horses for the kids to care for. So,” Shane said, “I’ve made arrangements with the Bureau of Land Management to purchase three wild mustangs for training. Dylan Reeves—the renowned horse whisperer in the area—is going to be doing the schooling.” Wild applause erupted. “When they are ready, the horses will go to the boys ranch, where they will be adopted into a very good home....”

      Incredibly impressed, Emily made her way through the crowd to Dylan’s side. In shock, she murmured, “I had no idea you were a philanthropist.”

      Was it possible the two of them had more in common than they knew?

      Not surprisingly, Dylan looked irritated by her compliment. “Don’t view me as some sort of saint. I’m not,” he muttered gruffly, and then for good measure, added, “I’m being paid.”

      “Just not your normal rate,” Emily guessed.

      Dylan СКАЧАТЬ