Clayton's Made-Over Mrs.. Sandra Steffen

to everybody else. It wasn’t her fault that Clayton Ezekiel Carson was a blind fool who couldn’t see the forest for the trees or the one woman in all the world who’d always loved him.

      Motioning to the coffeepot with the wet dishrag in her hand, she said, “There’s coffee, but it’s been sitting in the pot so long it’s about to turn into paint stripper.”

      “Just the way I like it.”

      Mel sputtered under her breath the entire time it took to reach beneath the counter for a clean cup and fill it with thick, black brew. For some reason Clayt hadn’t moved. His eyes were in the shadow of the brim of his hat, and the lower half of his face was covered with a couple of days’ worth of whisker stubble that did nothing to detract from the strong lines of his jaw and chin. The man was over six feet tall without the scuffed-up heels of his cowboy boots. He loomed over her, and Mel McCully hated to be loomed over.

      Giving him a good once-over, she said, “You’re too tall to talk to when you’re standing. Unless you wanted that coffee to go, you might as well have a seat.”

      He lowered his frame onto one stool and dropped his hat onto another. “That hospitality of yours is something, Mel. Always keeps me coming back for more.”

      Mel McCully had been born and raised in a town chock-full of rugged cowboys, but Clayt Carson’s slow, easy grin was one of a kind. She’d lost track of how many times she’d wished it wasn’t. Sighing, she moved on to finish washing off the counter.

      “Do you have to do that now?” he asked.

      “If I want to get out of here anytime soon, I do. Why?”

      She glanced over at him in time to see him flash her another lazy, sexy smile. “I was sort of hoping you’d join me.”

      “You were?”

      This time his grin was accompanied by a brief nod. Reminding herself that she had plenty of backbone, she cast him a guarded look. His dark hair was a little on the shaggy side, and there were tiny lines beside his eyes and a crease slashing one lean cheek. He looked exhausted, whipped, dragged through a knothole backward. It served him right. Oh, she’d been as relieved as anybody when his little girl had been found safe and sound that very afternoon. No one knew why the little girl had run away, and Mel supposed Clayt had every reason to look worried and exhausted.

      “Where’s Haley?” she asked, taking a stab at conversation.

      “She dropped off to sleep a little after six and hasn’t moved since. Luke and Jillian are watching her at my place. With Haley asleep and Luke up to his elbows in wedding plans, I decided to go for a drive. I still can’t believe my brother’s getting married.”

      As owner of the town’s only diner, Mel had heard all the jokes about the needy bachelors of Jasper Gulch. She hadn’t said much when the local boys had decided to advertise for women to come to their small town, but when she’d learned it had been Clayt’s idea, she’d nearly gone through the roof. He was her brother’s best friend, and she’d been in love with him for as long as she could remember, long before Clayt had married someone else, someone beautiful and sophisticated and selfish, someone who had decided early on that Jasper Gulch wasn’t for her and had left years ago. Recently Victoria had decided that motherhood wasn’t for her, either. For three months now, Clayt had had custody of his nine-year-old daughter, and boy did he have his hands full.

      It was true that there were sixty-two bachelors in Jasper Gulch and only six marriageable women, give or take a few who had moved in this past summer. Mel supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised that Clayt had thought it was necessary to advertise for women to come to this godforsaken tract of land in South Dakota, but enough was enough. The town needed women, did it? What was she? Chopped liver?

      “How about that cup of coffee?” he asked.

      Swiping the back of her hand across her brow, Melody leaned her elbows on the counter. “If I drink coffee now, I’ll never get to sleep.”

      He shrugged as if he thought he should have remembered that, then stared into the dark brew, lost in thought. Figuring it wouldn’t hurt to be nice just this once, she said, “What’s on your mind, Cowboy?”

      His answer was a long time coming. “Haley, mostly.”

      “She’s okay, isn’t she?” Mel asked. “I mean, she didn’t get into any real trouble last night when she was gone, did she?”

      Clayt answered without looking up. “Not this time. But what about the next time? She’s only been living with me for three months and she’s already gone skinny-dipping with a boy, stolen food off people’s front porches, and run away from home. I hate to think what she’ll do next.”

      Mel’s heart softened at the thought of Clayt’s little girl, and so did her voice as she said, “Instead of trying to figure out what she’s gonna do next, maybe you should try to figure out why she’s doing the things she’s doing.”

      “I think I know why.”

      “You do?”

      “She needs a mother.”

      Melody went back to cleaning off the counter. Scrubbing at some dried-on ketchup, she said, “Most kids do, Clayt.”

      “Yeah, well, the first two single women to move out here passed me right over for my brother and my best friend. I guess there’s no accounting for taste, huh?”

      Mel rolled her eyes. “Who’d marry an ornery cuss like you, anyway?”

      “I was sort of hoping you would.”

      Mel froze. Mouth gaping, she stared at Clayt for a full five seconds. She’d been dreaming of marrying this man for as long as she could remember and had imagined his wedding proposal at least a thousand times. Not once in all her imaginings did he ever use the words sort of.

      He flashed her his lazy, sexy grin one more time. Just when her knees were starting to melt along with her resolve, he said, “By the way, do you have any cream and sugar?”

      She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t seem to make a sound. She thought about hitting him over the head with one of the trays, but she didn’t see much sense in denting a perfectly usable item. Completely oblivious to her agitation, he said, “What do you say, Mel?”

      Since Mel McCully didn’t have much except her diner and her pride, she planted her hands on her hips and raised her chin at the haughty angle she’d perfected years ago. She untied her apron in a flash and slapped it on the counter before stalking toward the door. “I say get your own damn cream and sugar.”

      “Mel, wait!”

      She didn’t even break stride. “And lock up when you leave.” The door slammed on the last word.

      Clayt blinked. At the sound of her footsteps clomping up the stairs to the apartment overhead, he slowly rose to his feet. Tiredly dropping a dollar bill on the counter, he reached for his hat and headed for the front door where he turned the lock just as she’d instructed. Demanded was more like it. Scowling, he thought it was exactly what he should have expected from Wyatt’s little sister. Mel McCully had always been as ornery as the day was long. Why had he assumed tonight would be an exception?

      Other than a few vehicles that were parked in front of the Crazy Horse Saloon, Main Street was deserted. The town’s only bar was normally booming on Friday nights, but most folks were exhausted after spending the better part of last night searching for Haley. Things would be back to normal as soon as everyone got a good night’s sleep. Clayt needed eight hours’ worth of shut-eye, himself, but when he woke up, he’d still have a huge problem.

      The worst drought in twenty-two years was only a memory now, but the shortage of women in town was still as real as the moon in the sky. Clayt had hoped to find a mother for Haley in one of the gals who’d come to town this summer. Everything had seemed so logical last spring. The town council had voted on his idea to advertise for women, the local paper had printed some of the bachelors’