His Montana Homecoming. Jenna Mindel

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СКАЧАТЬ opened one of the heavy wooden doors that was pretty hefty for a bed-and-breakfast. Didn’t they realize older folks might have trouble with such a door? Not wise for a commercial venture. Didn’t they have ordinances in Montana?

      He stepped inside. There had to be a valet somewhere.

      “Can I help you?”

      “Ah, yes...” Dale whirled around at the feminine voice.

      A small woman, young, dressed in jeans and a Western-style plaid shirt over a white tank top, cocked her head. Her hair was that reddish-brown color that was neither light nor dark but lush. Her eyes were huge and blue like a storybook princess he’d seen on a preview for a Disney movie.

      Those pretty eyes widened as she took in his height. They also looked interested.

      “Sort of casual for a valet, don’t you think?” He gave her a thorough once-over before tossing her his two keys. “My car’s outside.”

      The keys slapped on the floor.

      “Excuse me?” She raised one perfectly arched eyebrow.

      Not a valet, then. “Are you the maid?”

      The clothes she wore should have been a dead giveaway. Rugged Montana maids wouldn’t wear aprons or cleaning uniforms. Of course they’d dress in jeans. And this one looked amazing in them.

      Her hands made small fists on her narrow hips. Her head might reach his shoulders if they stood close. “Who are you?”

      “Dale Massey.”

      The lovely girl rolled her eyes as recognition dawned. “I should have known.”

      Yeah, she should have. Most everyone did. He’d been on the cover of Fortune magazine a couple of months ago. But then, not a lot of workers in the service industry read that particular magazine. Maybe this one did.

      Dale puffed up his chest in anticipation of the sweet apology she’d deliver. He wouldn’t mind seeing those dusty freckles on her nose and cheeks blush a little.

      “I guess I’ll show you to your room.” She didn’t sound too thrilled. Not exactly good customer service.

      “Don’t I have to sign something? Get some keys?”

      She pointed to the tiled slate floor. “Your keys are right there and you’ll have to move your car. Dad will have a fit if you block the front.”

      Dale swallowed hard. “Dad?”

      She tilted her head. “Mayor Jackson Shaw is my father. I’m Faith Shaw.”

      “And this place is...” His throat went dry as the air outside.

      “Shaw Ranch.” A mischievous twinkle shone in her expressive eyes. She enjoyed his discomfort. “Welcome to our home.”

      * * *

      So this was the infamous Dale Massey who’d been too busy to return her brother Cord’s calls. The Centennial Planning Committee had tried for months to get a hold of the Massey family. Cord said they’d been abrupt, dismissive and downright rude at times.

      But my, my, my. This man was certainly handsome—in a manicured sort of way. Even the stubble along his jawline looked meticulously groomed. His sleek gray slacks and pristine white shirt with coordinating tie screamed high-end quality. The long tan woolen coat that probably cost a fortune made his green eyes look golden. This man knew exactly how good he looked, too. The smirk on his face confirmed his expectation of fawning adoration.

      Faith nearly laughed. He’d get none of that from her. “You want to see the room first or move your car?”

      The corner of his shapely mouth twitched. “Move the car. We wouldn’t want to anger your father, now, would we?”

      She waited for him to pick up his keys. She might be closer, but he threw them there.

      A slow smile spread across his face. As if they shared a secret.

      Faith’s belly dropped and her pulse picked up speed. Oh, no. That smile meant big trouble. He was trouble. And Faith had a definite weakness for troublesome men.

      Dale scooped up his keys with nimble grace and gestured for her to lead the way. “Ladies first.”

      Now she was a lady? Not the maid or valet?

      Faith knew his type well. He had everything but gave nothing. She meant nothing to someone like him other than a passing flirtation. Dale Massey struck her as a maestro when it came to the art of male-female relations, and way too rich for her blood in more ways than mere money.

      Faith waited for him to catch up and walked alongside him out the double doors. She openly stared at the tiny car in front of her. “You came in that thing?”

      “My reservation was lost.” He popped the hatch with a click of his key. “Speaking of reservations, why’d your father take it upon himself to move me out here when I was already booked into the Fidler Inn?”

      “He thought you’d be more comfortable. The inn’s pretty packed with homecoming and all.”

       Yeah, right!

      Faith knew her father’s matchmaking when she smelled it, and Mr. Fancy Pants sure smelled good. Not too much scent, but enough to make a woman want to step closer.

      Even though her little sister, Julie, was happily married to a cowboy and her older brother Cord also recently got hitched, Jackson Shaw pushed Faith toward the altar, as well. If it wasn’t that anxious banker Wilbur Thompson, it was their pastor who her father encouraged her to chase. They were both good, dependable and solid men. The trouble was, Faith Shaw had never wanted good and dependable. She loved the challenge of a chase. But she’d learned a thing or two when she’d left home. Some wild things didn’t want to be tamed.

      Faith didn’t chase anymore. Not after catching way more than she’d bargained for with Scott in Seattle. Bad boys didn’t reform, and flashy flirts were a heartbreak waiting in the wings.

      She gave Dale Massey a quick once-over and sighed. He looked like all those things and more. He lifted his designer luggage out of the trunk. No matter how attractive the wrapping, Faith wasn’t ready for marriage. If she were, good and dependable would have more appeal. Anyway, she liked her life nice and simple. Dale Massey had complication written all over him.

      “Where should I park?”

      Faith gathered her wits and pointed. “Around the corner. Next to my car is fine. It’s the navy blue Honda.”

      Dale nodded and climbed into his rental. Even with the seat pushed back, he looked cramped.

      Good! Might knock him down a peg.

      Faith gave herself a mental shake. It wasn’t nice to wish discomfort on a person. Not exactly her best what-would-Jesus-do moment. She rubbed her arms at the chill in the air and waited for Dale Massey’s return.

      In moments, he stood tall СКАЧАТЬ