Luke's Would-Be Bride. Sandra Steffen

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      “You can count on it.”

      “You got that right.”

      “Yes sirree, Bob.”

      Watching Jillian and Lisa leave, Luke couldn’t help noticing how well the two women communicated with just a look or a gesture. He wondered how long they’d been friends and had to fight the almost overwhelming desire to follow them out the door. Holding on to his composure, he tipped his chair back and hitched one boot over the opposite knee, calculating his next move.

      “Cletus McCully, you old dog,” Karl declared. “You were right, absolutely right.”

      “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

      “Lisa and Jillian,” someone said reverently. “Those are fine names, don’tcha think?”

      “I wouldn’t care if their names were Myrnella and Peerpont. They’re fine looking,” someone else declared.

      “My mother’s new furniture is fine looking. Lisa and Jillian are gorgeous,” Jason insisted.

      “And single.”

      “Yeah, single.”

      The front legs of Luke’s chair met the floor with a definite click.

      “How old would you say they are?” Jason asked.

      “Who cares?”

      “Yeah, who cares.”

      “Now about this welcome mat Cletus mentioned,” Doc Masey began.

      “A town picnic is a great idea,” Karl said.

      “With dancing?” Jason asked.

      “Yep.”

      “With real live women and everything?”

      “Yep.”

      “I second Cletus’s motion!” Jason exclaimed.

      “I third it.”

      “I fourth it.”

      “Everyone in favor, say aye!” Jason shouted.

      The room echoed with a chorus of ayes. Before Luke, who was supposed to be running the meeting, could ask for any nays, Cletus said, “It looks like we’re going to have us a town picnic.”

      A cheer went around the room. Cletus stood up and said, “Wyatt? You, Clayt and Luke can work out the details, can’t you?”

      “The details?” Wyatt croaked.

      “Sure. I’ll bet the kind women of the Ladies Aid Society would help you with the food. Isn’t that right, Isabell? Meanwhile, we’ll all spread the word. Seems to me there won’t be much left for you three boys to do. Don’t dilly-dally with your plans. The sooner we have the picnic the better.”

      “Now just a cotton-picking minute,” Clayt grumbled.

      Before Luke and Wyatt could add to Clayt’s rebuke, someone who had no authority whatsoever moved to adjourn. Within seconds, men whose scowls had been miraculously replaced with wide grins nearly tripped over each other in their haste to be the first ones out the door. The next thing Luke knew, he, Wyatt and Clayt were alone in the sweltering room.

      “It looks like we have a town picnic to plan,” Wyatt said.

      “What’s worse, we have to ask Isabell Pruitt to help,” Clayt grumbled.

      “I could strangle my grandfather,” Wyatt declared.

      “I’d be glad to help,” Clayt sputtered. “But I don’t know how in the hell I’d fit it in.”

      Luke didn’t think there was much he could add to that. After all, Clayt did have his hands full these days. It had only been a few weeks since his ex-wife had breezed into town just long enough to dump their nine-year-old daughter on his doorstep, saying that she’d had it with parenting. Haley might not have seemed like such a handful if Luke and Clayt’s mother hadn’t been called away to Oregon to care for her ailing mother, leaving her men to fend for themselves. The fact that the grass was burning up on the family spread only compounded Clayt’s worries.

      It took Luke a while to notice that nobody was talking. He looked from Clayt to Wyatt with ‘What?’ written all over his face.

      Wyatt was studying Luke through narrowed eyes. “I was just wondering why you’re not complaining louder than anybody about the fact that there are only two new women in town and sixty-two bachelors vying for their attention.”

      “That’s right,” Clayt cut in. “Why aren’t you swearing up one side and down the other?”

      Luke didn’t think there was much use in trying to deny anything. After all, Clayt and Wyatt both knew him like the backs of their own hands. When he was good and ready, he hitched his fingers through his belt loops and rocked back on his heels.

      “I don’t particularly like the idea of competing with at least half the county for a woman’s affections, but it just so happens that I have a little advantage.”

      “What advantage?” Clayt asked.

      “It’s not a big deal, really.”

      “Don’t make me drag it out of you,” Clayt threatened.

      “Don’t make me help him,” Wyatt added.

      Luke almost smiled.

      “Well?” Clayt demanded.

      Lowering his voice as if guarding a secret, Luke finally answered. “It just so happens that I know something the other bachelors don’t.”

      “About the two new women?” Wyatt asked.

      “About Jillian.”

      “I’ll give you to the count of three,” Clayt declared.

      This time Luke didn’t even try to keep the grin off his face. Glancing from Clayt to Wyatt, he said, “I know where she works.”

      “Where?” Two voices rose in unison.

      “In my office. With me.”

      Clayt and Wyatt tipped their hats up at the same time, but Clayt was the first to find his voice. “How in Sam Hill did you manage that?”

      With an unmistakable heat still vibrating through his body, Luke said, “Just my lucky day, I guess.”

      He turned around and, without another word, slowly sauntered out the door. Yes sirree. Today was definitely his lucky day. And from the looks of things, tomorrow was going to be even better.

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