Hand-Picked Husband. HEATHER MACALLISTER

rest in peace.”

      “Then what happens?”

      Maria laughed. “What happens next is up to you.”

      Autumn stared down at the application and was seriously tempted. How wonderful to date someone who didn’t think she was destined to become the next Mrs. Clayton Barnett. How wonderful to date anyone at all. Living at the ranch made it difficult to meet eligible men even without the handicap of her mother constantly all but announcing her engagement.

      Besides, if she attended the Past Champion Buyers’ Ball with someone other than Clay, that would give people something to talk about.

      She fingered the pages. “Do...do you screen your applicants?”

      Maria looked horrified. “What kind of a place do you think this is? We don’t take just anybody.” She pointed to the form. “You got to tell us where you live, where you work, and let me tell you, we’re gonna run a credit check.” She smiled. “You interested ? We get a lot of new people this time of year because of the rodeo. Ranchers come to town and sign up.”

      “I’m not sure I’d want to date a rancher.”

      “Then you put that on the form.”

      Autumn inhaled, seriously tempted. Before she came to a decision, the doorbell chimed.

      “That must be Hector.” Maria levered herself off the sofa cushion. “Look at that.” She jabbed a finger at her watch. “Twenty-five minutes late. It’s a good thing Miss Willie isn’t here.” Maria marched toward the door, still talking. “Hector, you better knock another ten percent off, and those upstairs windows had better—you’re not Hector!”

      “No, ma’am.”

      Autumn’s head snapped up and she hurriedly closed the book.

      “I’m Clayton Barnett and I’m here to invite you to contribute to the—”

      “Pigs again? I got a pig lady in there already.” Maria hooked her thumb over her shoulder.

      Hat in hand, Clay peered around the door.

      As if he hadn’t recognized her Bronco parked out front, Autumn fumed as she forced a smile. “Hi, Clay.”

      “Autumn. Fancy meeting you here.”

      So original. “I got here first.”

      “But how was I to know you were asking for a donation?” He smiled first at her, then at Maria who was clearly affected by the tall rancher and his patented aw-shucks grin. “I thought you might have been here as a client.” He walked into the parlor, his appearance making it look frilly and feminine.

      The wedding portraits stopped him cold. Autumn thought they might.

      “Actually, I am considering it,” she said, just to see his reaction.

      There was the pop of an engine backfiring.

      “Hector!” Maria stomped out onto the porch and shouted, “It’s about time you got here. Drive that truck around back.” Her voice faded as she went out to scold the tardy Hector.

      Clay made a tsking sound. “Buying a donation?”

      “Not at all.” Autumn opened the scrapbook again and flipped through the pages explaining about Yellow Rose Matchmakers. She blinked at the rate sheet, but then again, the agency promised to keep searching and matching until their clients were satisfied. “I’m going to sign up.”

      “You’re kidding.” Clay sat on the sofa next to her.

      Autumn scooted over. “Why? They screen the applicants, you fill out a detailed profile, and the computer fixes you up. Very efficient.”

      He studied the profile forms. “I don’t know... these forms ask a lot of questions. You might not want some guy you date to know the answers. That’s always assuming that the computer can possibly match you to anyone.”

      “Of course it’ll find a match!”

      He leaned back and grinned. “I don’t know, Autumn. Your bio is likely to freeze that computer right up.”

      She glared at him. “Anyone matched with you would demand a refund!”

      “Anyone matched with me would give the Yellow Rose ladies a bonus.”

      He was insufferable.

      “Prove it,” she challenged him. “Sign up.”

      Laughing, he shook his head. “I don’t need to prove anything.”

      But Autumn did. If she showed up at the ball with another man, that would be good, but if both she and Clay came with others, it would be great. “Dare ya.”

      It was a taunt from their childhood.

      Clay raised an eyebrow.

      “I dare you to bring your match to the Champion Buyers’ Ball.” Autumn was counting on his competitive streak where she was concerned.

      For a moment, she didn’t think he’d agree, then he slowly nodded. “Okay. But only if you’ll do the same.”

      Autumn stuck out her hand and grinned. “Deal.”

      They were shaking on their deal when Maria returned.

      She was more than happy to sign them up. “Fill out these forms, front and back.” She sat Autumn and Clay at a table in one of the offices. “You going to want a video?”

      “You didn’t mention a video,” Autumn pointed out.

      Maria waved her hands. “Don’t get me started on videos. I don’t like ’em. People don’t look good in videos. The camera makes them nervous. Besides, the machine isn’t working. My cousin, Ramon, is fixing it.”

      “We don’t need a video,” Clay assured her.

      “Good.” Maria smiled at them. “Holler if you have questions. I’m going to check on Hector and make sure he cleans all the way into the corners on those windows. And as long as he’s up there, he should clear out the gutters.”

      “Hector is going to wish he hadn’t taken this job,” Clay said as Maria hurried off.

      “Hector should have been on time. Speaking of which, we’re going to have to hurry if we don’t want to be late to the meeting.” Actually, they probably would be late, but Fred Chapman was notoriously lax about starting on time.

      “This doesn’t look like it’ll take much time to fill out.” Clay was already halfway down the first page.

      Autumn was stuck on the weight question. Should she put her actual weight or the weight she planned to be before the first match? “Wait until you get to the hard questions.” Weight wouldn’t be a hard question for Clay. He was a nice triangular shape. So was Autumn, only the triangle was more inverted than she liked.

      “What hard questions?”

      She looked at him. “Politics? Religion?”

      “I just put yes.”

      Autumn rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to tell what your politics are and which religion.”

      “Okay, ndb and Texas.”

      “What is ‘ndb’?”

      “None of your... business.”

      “Clay! Just put conservative.”

      “I’m not all that conservative.”

      “Okay, try this.” Autumn thought a moment. “You’re at a Dallas Cowboys game and the ‘Star-Spangled Banner’ is being played by the Texas A&M University Marching Band. The man next to you refuses to stand, citing freedom of speech. What do you do?”

      “I’ll freedom-of-speech him to his feet!”

      Autumn