The Maverick's Bride-To-Order. Stella Bagwell

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       Chapter Three

      A short distance down the next street, Lydia guided him to a stop in front of a redbrick building with the words Gold Rush Diner painted on the plate glass front.

      “Here we are. It’s small, but good,” she promised.

      “Where did the name Gold Rush come from? Was gold ever taken out of this area?”

      “Not that I’m aware of. But I suppose anything might have happened back in the eighteen hundreds before the area was settled. Why do you ask? Are you thinking about prospecting for gold?” she asked impishly.

      “The only thing I’m searching for is a wife,” he told her. “And hopefully, that’ll be easier than finding a vein of gold.”

      Zach opened the door and above their heads the rattle of a cowbell announced their arrival.

      Several of the red vinyl booths were already taken with early lunch diners, but they managed to find one in the back of the room, not far from the kitchen.

      As Lydia settled herself on the bench seat and removed her coat, she could feel several sets of eyes turning in their direction. No doubt some of them had recognized Zach from the classified ad and were curious about him. Others were probably wondering what a plain Jane like her was doing with a walking dream like him.

      Lydia was wondering the same thing.

      When Zach had approached her on the sidewalk, the last thing she’d been expecting was for him to ask her to lunch. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. She only knew it would be foolish to think it might mean more than a friendly offer.

      Zach sniffed as he removed his hat and placed it next to him on the seat. “Something smells good.”

      Lydia chuckled. “I think that’s called fried food.”

      He grinned and Lydia’s heart fluttered in spite of herself.

      “Why is it that the things we want the most are the things that are bad for us?” he asked.

      He was a prime example of one of those bad things, Lydia thought. Just sitting there with him was messing with her mind and making her heart do ridiculous acrobatics.

      “I don’t know. But if I could figure it out, I might be able to stop my chocolate habit.” Resting her forearms on the edge of the table, she leaned slightly toward him. “So tell me—what did your family think about your ad?”

      He shrugged. “Well, after they ribbed me about it, my brothers mostly thought it was ingenious. Unfortunately my dad didn’t see it that way. He’s rather disappointed in my strategy to find a wife. I’m hoping as time goes by he’ll quit lecturing and mellow about the idea.”

      She could see that his father’s lack of support troubled him. Lydia could only wonder what it was like to have a father who even bothered to pick up the phone and say hello or drop a birthday card in the mail. At least Zach’s father cared enough to voice an opinion on his son’s future.

      “I imagine he wants you to take the customary route,” she suggested.

      A frown pulled his dark brows together, and as Lydia’s gaze slid over his handsome face, she figured there were already countless females who’d been sighing over his photo and plotting to become his wife. Poor guy, he was in for a bumpy ride. Unless this business of searching for a wife was just a ruse to create a dating pool for himself.

      No. Lydia didn’t want to think Zach was that calculating. As far as she could tell, there didn’t seem to be a conniving bone in his body. But, according to her mother, every man had his own selfish agenda.

      “Right,” Zach said with an emphatic nod. “But I’m twenty-seven. I’ve been dating ever since high school and not one woman has ever felt like she was the perfect fit for me. Frankly, I’m tired of waiting.”

      Lydia was a year older than him and still single, but she wasn’t pushing the panic button. Yet.

      She was about to tell him that being in a hurry might not be wise, but before she could think how to word it in a sensitive way, a young, wiggly waitress with long black hair approached their booth.

      Her entire attention on Zach, the woman placed two menus onto the table. Flashing a suggestive grin at him, she said, “Hi. How’s it going?”

      He smiled back at the waitress and Lydia wondered what he was thinking about all that long, straight hair. Maybe he was getting the idea that the tight apron she was wearing meant she was great in the kitchen. Or the bed. Either thought made Lydia a little sick to her stomach.

      “It’ll be going great as soon as we can get our lunch,” Lydia spoke up.

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