The Rancher's Christmas Proposal. Sherri Shackelford

      “I can’t send for a mail-order bride,” he declared forcefully. “Even for the children. I know you’re all trying to help. I appreciate it. Truly, I do. But it’s out of the question.” Owen tipped a cup and he lunged before the liquid spilled. “I’m not really the mail-order bride kind of fellow.”

      Tessa covered her face with her hands. What did a woman have to do to get a marriage proposal around here? She lowered her hands and sucked in a restorative breath. If he wasn’t catching the hints, she’d have to do this herself.

      “Why don’t we get married?” she declared just as forcefully. They’d be here all afternoon if she waited on Shane to decipher her hints. “We already know each other. Sort of. And you said it yourself before. We each have something the other needs.” Before he could speak, she rushed ahead. “No one could take the place of your first wife, I’m sure.”

      Something flashed across his face, an emotion she couldn’t read. “I wouldn’t expect anyone to.”

      “It’s what you said before,” Tessa went on, relieved they were at least finally speaking on the same topic. “Things are different out West. Marriages are arranged for practical reasons. We’re simply being practical.”

      “I just want to get this straight,” he said, not appearing at all eager. “You’re saying we ought to get married? You and me?”

      Her enthusiasm deflated, and she pressed two fingers against her temple. This had seemed much more logical back in the marshal’s office. Sitting here before Shane, trying to think of a good way to convince him that she was the perfect choice for a bride, nothing seemed clear. What qualifications did she have? She could pick a pocket and spot a cardsharp from across the room. Not necessarily what most men were looking for in a bride.

      Now that the words were out, her courage fled. Covering her unease, she snapped, “Of course you and me!”

      * * *

      “You caught me off guard.” Shane forced the pent-up air from his lungs, remembering to breathe. “Just making sure. You see, um, you said you had a small matter you’d like to discuss.”

      “Yes. Marriage.”

      “I think I see the problem,” he replied, still feeling a bit dazed. “Maybe next time you should say that you have something important to discuss rather than something small. That way I’m prepared.”

      For a moment she appeared annoyed, but her expression quickly shifted to one of uncertainty. The sudden change left him even more confused.

      Tessa sighed and studied the tines on her fork as though they were the most fascinating things on earth. “When Cora spoke of mail-order brides before, I couldn’t help but think about the children.”

      “The children?” He was still catching up with the conversation. And who could blame him? Usually when someone wanted to discuss a small matter, they meant a broken heel on a shoe or an overdue bill at the boardinghouse.

      Something small.

      A marriage proposal was not a small matter.

      “Clearly they’re better off with their father,” Tessa said. “They’re better off with the person who loves them most.” Her eyes took on a misty appeal. “This all must be very confusing for them. Losing their mother, moving from the only home they’ve ever known.”

      Her reasoning put him at ease. She liked the children. Maybe it was because they were twins that they had that effect on people. But was affection for Alyce and Owen enough for a lifetime together? He’d been down this road before with disastrous results.

      Her too-pale lips pinched together. “I realize we haven’t known each other very long, and this is an enormous decision, but I really think we could make this work.”

      While he was busy reeling from the unexpected announcement, she’d obviously thought through the details already. Any man would jump at the offer, himself included. Except he didn’t want her making a lifelong decision because she was backed into a corner. He didn’t want her to do something she’d regret later.