Her Montana Twins. Carolyne Aarsen

blue eyes nestled in a valley of wrinkles, a road map of his years and experience. Rusty had seen a lot coming and going in this town, and Brody knew the older man didn’t miss much.

      “Well, that has a certain appeal,” he admitted. No sense being less than straight up with someone like Rusty.

      “Kind of thought it might,” Rusty said with a smug look. “We started meeting in the late afternoon, to accommodate Hannah’s schedule. Our next meeting is Wednesday.”

      “I’ll be there. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to meet Dylan at Great Gulch Grub.”

      “See you later,” Rusty said, then turned and walked across the street to the bakery where Brody saw his camouflage-colored Mule was parked.

      Brody followed him but ducked into Great Gulch Grub. He saw Dylan sitting at a table toward the back of the noisy café, his hands clasped on either side of his shaved head, glowering at a large manual lying on the scarred, Formica-covered table.

      “Can I please get a coffee and a piece of Vincente’s amazing apple pie?” Brody asked Mert, who stood behind the counter. Behind her he could hear Vincente singing snatches of an unfamiliar song. Probably some opera thing that he seemed to enjoy.

      Mert’s hair was pulled back in her perpetual bun, but this late in the day a few hanks of hair had come loose and hung around her narrow face.

      “What am I, your wife?” she quipped, giving the empty counter a wipe with the cloth she held.

      “I still live in hope,” Brody said, sweeping his hat off his head and placing it on his chest.

      “You should get your own in time for the Old Tyme wedding going on next month,” Mert teased. “I thought a romantic like you would be all over that event.”

      Brody just laughed, Mert’s innocent comment making him think of Hannah. “Not yet, Mert. Not yet.”

      “Don’t worry, cowboy, I know your future bride is out there. And if she’s not ready, we’ll find someone for you.”

      “That makes me worry,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “I can find my own wife, thank you very much.” Then, before Mert could carry the conversation any further, he strode to the back of the café, greeting a few of the people he knew and dropping into an empty chair across from his friend.

      “Troubles with the motorbike?” he asked, glancing over the pages Dylan was studying.

      “Yeah. Something with the manifold.” Dylan sighed. “Sure wish you hadn’t sold yours. I could’ve scammed some parts from it.”

      “Everything has its season and the motorbike’s was over.”

      “We sure had some good times with them,” Dylan said.

      Brody’s thoughts ticked back to those trips with Dylan, roaring through the countryside, carefree and foolish. He also remembered how happy his parents were when he sold the bike.

      “So, thoughts about the booth for the fair?” he asked, changing the subject. “I already picked one out.”

      “Me and the other guys were thinking we should get a corner one so we can park the fire truck behind it. Kids can sit in it. They love that kind of thing.”

      “Here you go, cowboy,” Mert said to Brody, setting his pie and coffee in front of him. “Enjoy, and let me know when you’re ready to go wife shopping.”

      “I’m fine,” Brody said with a grin. He picked up the fork and dug into his pie, his mouth watering. “I’ll have to go back and talk to Hannah again and change the booth if you want a corner one,” he said to Dylan between mouthfuls of cinnamon-laced apple pie.

      The idea appealed, but he wanted to take a day to regroup and find another way to turn on the charm.

      “You could talk to her now,” Dylan said, raising his chin toward the door.

      Hannah came in, glanced around the café, then seemed to hesitate when she saw him, the smile on her face fading away. Brody knew the only empty table in the café was beside him and Dylan.

      Her hesitation stung. A little. Though he knew she was a widow, he had nurtured a faint hope that maybe, eventually, he could let her see there were other fish in the sea. Him being one of the fish.

      Then, with a gentle smile for Dylan and a polite one for him, she sat down at the empty table, her back to Brody.

      Dylan raised his eyebrow, as if in question, and nodded toward Hannah again. “Here’s our chance.” He leaned over to look past Brody. “Hey, Mrs. Douglas. Brody needs to talk to you.” Then Dylan nudged Brody under the table with his foot and Brody had no choice but to deal with this.

      With a glare at his friend, Brody wiped the piecrust crumbs off his face, put on a smile and turned around in his chair.

      “Hi again,” he said, leaning his arm across the back of the wooden chair. “So. About that booth. Could we make a change?”

      Hannah held his gaze and then looked down at the cell phone she clutched as if she needed to do something with it. “Depends on what you want to do.”

      Still not too eager to talk to him, he noted. He pulled in a breath and pushed on. “Dylan and I were just talking. Could we snag a corner booth instead? We were hoping to set up a fire truck behind it if there’s room.”

      That caught her attention. Her subsequent smile and excitement reignited a glimmer of hope. “That would be a great idea,” she said.

      “We thought the kids would like that, too,” Brody said, encouraged by her enthusiasm. “We could get some little fire hats to give away.”

      “What do you think of getting someone to take pictures of the kids with their hats on standing by the truck?” Her infectious smile increased her appeal. Her dark eyes lit up, and the light from the window behind her made her brown hair shine. She wore it loose and it flowed over her shoulders. Like melted chocolate.

      “I think Scottie Sawchuk at the station has a good camera. We could get him set up. What do you think of selling people the pictures?”

      “As part of the fund-raiser. Great idea.” Her eyes sparkled with eagerness and a full, genuine smile curved her soft lips.

      And dived into his heart and settled there.

      “Perfect. If you could get us that corner stall, we’re in business.”

      “I’ll do whatever I can,” she said.

      Brody nodded, unable to ignore the knock of awareness he felt. She blinked, and her smile slowly faded. A cloud slid across the sun and the light left with her smile, followed by an awkward silence. Brody felt his brain seize up as he tried to find something clever to say.

      “If there’s nothing more...” Hannah let the sentence hang, giving him the perfect opportunity to capitalize on the moment, but nope. Still nothing.

      Since when was he tongue-tied in the presence of a woman?

      Since it was Hannah Douglas. And though his mind was blank, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

      “No. I think that’s it,” he said finally.

      “Then I’ll let you get back to your dessert,” she said.

      Her words were polite and her voice cool and once again Brody got the impression she was trying to get rid of him. Then she turned away and Brody returned to his pie.

      “So I guess we’ve got that settled then,” Dylan said, closing his book and looking up at his friend, thankfully unaware of Brody making unsuccessful googly eyes at Hannah Douglas. “You stopping at the hall before you go to the ranch?”

      “I need to pick up a shirt I left behind there after our last call to Alfie Hart’s place.”

      “Still can’t believe you were about to go into that barn for his dog.”