Weddings Do Come True. Cara Colter

delicate smell wafted up to him—of eggs and onions and herbs. He bit into the omelette cautiously. Ambrosia. The slop was salsa. He glanced at Gumpy who was laughing at him.

      She’s not staying, he mouthed.

      “Promises are important,” Gumpy said out loud.

      Ethan tried to think of exactly what he had said last night. It hadn’t been a promise. Not even close. A bet. They hadn’t even shaken on it.

      Gumpy didn’t believe in shaking. He believed in honor. If a man said something, he followed through. Even if he’d said it when he was dead tired and felt backed into the corner. Ethan realized he’d taken the bait—hook, line and sinker.

      “So, how long could you stay?” Gumpy asked her, when Ethan failed to say anything.

      She turned and looked at them, her face bright with hope.

      Why would anybody even want to stay here? Ethan asked himself. A million miles from the nearest shopping mall with two kids who didn’t obey, an old man and a grouch. Whatever she was running from must be pretty bad. A boyfriend who beat her? He inspected her visible skin areas for bruises, feeling some sort of unfathomable anger as he did so.

      But he didn’t see any bruises.

      She was looking at him. He continued to eat his breakfast. He pretended to be engrossed in Danny’s retelling of a dream about a monster who ate frogs and purple dogs.

      “I could stay until you found somebody else,” she said. “Two weeks tops.”

      Everybody was looking at him now. Danny was suddenly quiet.

      Doreen laid her hand on his arm, leaving a little trail of salsa on the sleeve of his shirt, which was practically brand-new. “Oh, please, Unca,” she said.

      If he said no, she’d start crying. He just knew it.

      And Gumpy, when insulted, sometimes went into the hills alone for days.

      Which would leave him in an even more unworkable position than the one he had been in twenty-four hours ago. Ethan was finished breakfast, anyway. He scraped back his chair, and got up, went to the door and put on his hat and boots and coat. He waited until he had one foot out the door before he said, “Yeah. Okay. Whatever.”

      He didn’t turn around to see Lacey McCade’s reaction. He didn’t want to see her reaction because he had the awful feeling that if she ever directed the full wattage of that dazzling smile at him, he would be lost.

      Totally, completely, irrevocably lost.

      He jammed his hat harder on his head and lengthened his stride.

      Chapter Three

      She was staying!

      Lacey couldn’t believe how elated she felt, how absolutely wonderful it felt to be a million miles from anything familiar. The view out the kitchen window this morning reminded her of that—a pastoral winter scene of barns, old fences, cattle and horses.

      Now, as she paused for a moment from gathering the breakfast dishes to gaze again at the scene, Ethan came into her line of vision, walking down the road heading toward the barn. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets, his stride long and purposeful, his black cowboy hat pulled low over his brow. He kicked at an ice ball and it sailed down the drive ahead of him.

      Clearly he was not sharing her elation. Not at all.

      But Danny and Doreen were happy she was staying, sitting at the table telling her the one hundred and one things they had to show her.

      Gumpy came and helped himself to a refill of coffee. “Thanks for breakfast.” He glanced out the window, just in time to see Ethan send another ice ball sailing. “He’ll come around.”

      “It’s only for two weeks.”

      She put dishes in the sink and contemplated her timing. Two weeks. She could go home, cancel the wedding in plenty of time and do her best to put her life back together.

      What was left of it.

      If she went back, now, today, she could salvage something. It was a halfhearted thought. No, she’d said she would stay. She was needed here, whether the grump marching down the road wanted to admit he needed her or not.

      And as for the grump... She was determined not to think about the grump. Or the amazing way she felt when he was in the room—not like an experienced trial lawyer, but like a high school senior with a crush on the school heartthrob. She’d nearly dropped his omelette right on his lap when his hand had inadvertently touched hers as she’d set it down in front of him.

      If she stayed here too long, she might have to look at the deep throbbing within her that had started the very moment she had seen the cowboy snoozing on the couch. It was something between a pain and an ache. But nothing could happen in two weeks.

      Meanwhile, she could help him out by giving him refuge from the niece and nephew who had so obviously wrapped that man of steel around their teeny-tiny pinkies. And he could help her out by giving her refuge from her life, just long enough for her to sort out what fierce instinct had broken through all her reserve and all her sense of responsibility and obligation, and made her get on that plane.

      “Are we making cookies now?” Doreen demanded.

      “Dishes first. Pull over some chairs, and you can both help me with them.”

      “Really?” they asked, wide-eyed.

      Gumpy harrumphed with pleasure. “See you at lunch,” he said, and then offered, “Something with meat in it might make him feel better.”

      She smiled. “Not according to the Heart Foundation, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

      Danny and Doreen were still standing on chairs, meticulously wiping every drop of moisture off the plates, when Ethan came back in. Lacey had begun to do an inventory of supplies he had in his cupboards, making a list of items that would need to be picked up if she was going to do this job properly.

      He’d hired her and she planned to make sure he got his money’s worth. Plus, there was the little matter of proving to him that she was capable of a little more than matching her fingernail polish to the day’s outfit.

      He gave his boots a wipe at the door, then came into the kitchen with them on.

      “That’s okay, I haven’t washed it yet,” she said, looking out at him from behind an open cupboard door.

      He scowled at her, the scowl of a man who was going to wear his boots in his house if he damn well pleased.

      “Unca,” Doreen said, and held up her plate for inspection. “Look-it. Me and Danny are helping.”

      He looked surprised, but he gave his niece’s glossy hair a little ruffle with a big, leather-gloved hand. “That’s great, sweetheart.”

      He turned away before he saw the beam of pure pleasure on the little girl’s face. He opened the fridge, pulling a glove off with his teeth.

      He retrieved a bottle of white liquid, and took off his other glove, stuffing them both in the back pocket of his jeans.

      Which was the only reason she even noticed the rear end of his jeans, she told herself. She looked for long enough to know jeans had been made for men built like him.

      She watched as he slipped a huge syringe from his front shirt pocket, took the cap off with his teeth, shook the bottle, turned it upside down and inserted the needle, then pulled back the plunger.

      “I hope that isn’t for one of us,” she kidded, amazed by his steady confidence with the needle and the bottle. From plumber to doctor in the blink of an eye.

      He cast her a look. “Well, ma’am, I thought I heard you sneeze this morning.” His face remained absolutely deadpan, but she saw the faintest glimmer of laughter in his eyes.

      It