The Marriage Stampede. Julianna Morris

something in the tone of her voice and the instant flush made him wonder. “Uh, how old are you?”

      “Never mind that.”

      Logan rubbed his forehead. In her tight jeans, Merrie looked like a sexy college freshman, yet she had to be older. And if she was still a virgin...he felt embarrassed and hot and hungry, all at the same time. “How old, Merrie?”

      “All right. Twenty-nine.” She fidgeted with the belt snapped across her waist. “Actually I’ll be thirty next week.” The gloomy emphasis she placed on the word thirty made him grin.

      “Hey, I’m thirty-six,” he said. “It’s great to be thirty. People don’t treat you like a kid anymore.”

      “You wouldn’t understand, you’re a man.”

      Oh. Logan nodded his head. He’d heard this argument before. “Let’s see...the biological clock? Aren’t you about ten years too early to be stressing out about it?”

      “That isn’t it at all. Well...maybe a little bit,” Merrie qualified. “But you don’t have to worry about being too old to have babies and making a success of yourself all at the same time.”

      Logan had heard this one, too—how men could put off getting married and starting a family, so they couldn’t understand how hard it was for a woman. “Since I don’t plan on having kids, that isn’t much of a problem,” he remarked.

      “Yeah, but you have loads of time to change your mind.” Merrie chewed on her bottom lip. “It isn’t turning thirty, it’s not...” Her voice trailed and she smiled brightly, determinedly. “Never mind. Everything’s going to work out. I’ve got a plan.”

      He lightly tugged a lock of her cinnamon hair. It wasn’t his concern, but he felt an affinity with her. They both had big plans for the future.

      “Let’s see,” he said. “You’re twenty-nine. You want to buy your family ranch. You want kids, which presumably includes a husband in the equation. And you’re a virgin.”

      “I’m not...huh.” Merrie crossed her arms over her stomach and scowled. “That’s none of your business.”

      “I think your plan needs some tinkering.” Logan leaned closer and caressed the curve of her neck. She swatted his hand but he didn’t move.

      “I’m not tinkering with you, so forget it. And my virginity—or lack of it,” she added hastily, “is my own concern. Check out the other guests if you’re that desperate. We usually have a couple of single women.”

      “I’m not desperate. And how do you know I wasn’t talking about something else?”

      “Because men always think about sex. It’s your first, last and middle thought of the day.” Merrie shimmied away, leaning against her side of the plane and looking hopefully at the nearby truck.

      Logan spared the vehicle a brief glance. The sleeping driver hadn’t moved a muscle. “No help there.”

      “I could scream.”

      “I don’t think you will.”

      “You...you arrogant jerk,” she huffed, not looking particularly worried. “I’ll scream if I want, and Chip will beat you into a pulp. He’s very protective.”

      He tried not to smile. “Chip?”

      “Yeah, in the truck. You can tell by his hatband.” She wrinkled her nose, temporarily forgetting her anger. “He always keeps a strip of condoms beneath the band, and they make these round patterns in the leather. I guess he thinks it’s sexy or something, because it’s obvious what’s in there even when the edges don’t stick out.”

      Logan hesitated. Merrie Foster was perfectly capable of pulling his leg, and this sounded like a Wild West tall story. “That’s an odd place to keep something like that. Surely cowboys don’t wear their hats to bed.”

      She shrugged, an enigmatic smile on her mouth. “Cowboys wear their hats everywhere.”

      “Oh.” Logan didn’t like the smile. “I guess ol’ Chip is protective. It sounds like he’s got lots of protection, except it isn’t the kind an innocent young thing needs to stay innocent. If you know what I mean...?”

      She blinked, then laughed. “Forget it. I’m not talking. As far as the hat goes, you’ll see for yourself. This is Montana—anything can happen out here. It’s a land of individuality.”

      “Right.” Logan unlatched his door and swung it open. Time for a change of subject. A safer subject. “So tell me, how did you choose teaching for a career? Ranching and teaching don’t seem compatible.”

      “No, it’s perfect!” Merrie followed him out of the plane, carrying some blocks connected by ropes. “We’re really isolated on the Bar Nothing, so I can do home instruction when I have my own kids. See? It works out great.”

      In a strange way, he had to agree. It also made sense that Merrie had never made time for having intimate male friends, though he didn’t think she’d admit to the fact.

      He sighed, but it was a happy sigh. For someone whose vacation plans had been ruined, he wasn’t having a bad time at all. This dude ranch thing seemed to be working out better than he’d expected.

      Chip the sleeping cowboy didn’t stir as Merrie placed the blocks against the plane wheels, at the same time explaining the maintenance building also included a hangar area in case of bad weather. She seemed a little nervous, which he understood. He’d really pushed her with that virgin bit. After all, a lot of men would probably consider virginity an affront, or maybe even a challenge.

      Now he was different.

      It wasn’t a challenge, though it made him curious.

      Curious? his conscience screamed. Right. It made him...invigorated. Anyway, Merrie certainly didn’t seem virginal. She was confident and self-aware, which didn’t mean she wasn’t innocent, but it made him wonder.

      “Well, if it isn’t the Red Bombshell,” a lazy voice announced.

      “Hey, Chip.” Merrie waved.

      The cowboy unfolded himself from the cab of the truck and ambled over to Merrie, lifting her into a huge bear hug. He then tipped her backward and planted a dramatic kiss on her lips, all without disturbing the hat perched on his head. Logan felt his eyes narrow.

      “Glad to have ya back,” Chip said when he was done. “The boss sent me out to pick you up. Who’s the slicker?”

      “Logan Kincaid.”

      “Howdy, Kincaid.” The cowboy held out his hand, which Logan grabbed and slowly squeezed. They were about the same height and age, though Chip’s skin had clearly been weathered by a succession of long summers and harsh winters. That wasn’t all. Obvious circles were clearly visible beneath the Montanan’s hat. Sure enough, the man kept a supply of condoms, right where he could always count on finding them.