His Montana Homecoming. Jenna Mindel

this was the infamous Dale Massey who’d been too busy to return her brother Cord’s calls. The Centennial Planning Committee had tried for months to get a hold of the Massey family. Cord said they’d been abrupt, dismissive and downright rude at times.

      But my, my, my. This man was certainly handsome—in a manicured sort of way. Even the stubble along his jawline looked meticulously groomed. His sleek gray slacks and pristine white shirt with coordinating tie screamed high-end quality. The long tan woolen coat that probably cost a fortune made his green eyes look golden. This man knew exactly how good he looked, too. The smirk on his face confirmed his expectation of fawning adoration.

      Faith nearly laughed. He’d get none of that from her. “You want to see the room first or move your car?”

      The corner of his shapely mouth twitched. “Move the car. We wouldn’t want to anger your father, now, would we?”

      She waited for him to pick up his keys. She might be closer, but he threw them there.

      A slow smile spread across his face. As if they shared a secret.

      Faith’s belly dropped and her pulse picked up speed. Oh, no. That smile meant big trouble. He was trouble. And Faith had a definite weakness for troublesome men.

      Dale scooped up his keys with nimble grace and gestured for her to lead the way. “Ladies first.”

      Now she was a lady? Not the maid or valet?

      Faith knew his type well. He had everything but gave nothing. She meant nothing to someone like him other than a passing flirtation. Dale Massey struck her as a maestro when it came to the art of male-female relations, and way too rich for her blood in more ways than mere money.

      Faith waited for him to catch up and walked alongside him out the double doors. She openly stared at the tiny car in front of her. “You came in that thing?”

      “My reservation was lost.” He popped the hatch with a click of his key. “Speaking of reservations, why’d your father take it upon himself to move me out here when I was already booked into the Fidler Inn?”

      “He thought you’d be more comfortable. The inn’s pretty packed with homecoming and all.”

       Yeah, right!

      Faith knew her father’s matchmaking when she smelled it, and Mr. Fancy Pants sure smelled good. Not too much scent, but enough to make a woman want to step closer.

      Even though her little sister, Julie, was happily married to a cowboy and her older brother Cord also recently got hitched, Jackson Shaw pushed Faith toward the altar, as well. If it wasn’t that anxious banker Wilbur Thompson, it was their pastor who her father encouraged her to chase. They were both good, dependable and solid men. The trouble was, Faith Shaw had never wanted good and dependable. She loved the challenge of a chase. But she’d learned a thing or two when she’d left home. Some wild things didn’t want to be tamed.

      Faith didn’t chase anymore. Not after catching way more than she’d bargained for with Scott in Seattle. Bad boys didn’t reform, and flashy flirts were a heartbreak waiting in the wings.

      She gave Dale Massey a quick once-over and sighed. He looked like all those things and more. He lifted his designer luggage out of the trunk. No matter how attractive the wrapping, Faith wasn’t ready for marriage. If she were, good and dependable would have more appeal. Anyway, she liked her life nice and simple. Dale Massey had complication written all over him.

      “Where should I park?”

      Faith gathered her wits and pointed. “Around the corner. Next to my car is fine. It’s the navy blue Honda.”

      Dale nodded and climbed into his rental. Even with the seat pushed back, he looked cramped.

      Good! Might knock him down a peg.

      Faith gave herself a mental shake. It wasn’t nice to wish discomfort on a person. Not exactly her best what-would-Jesus-do moment. She rubbed her arms at the chill in the air and waited for Dale Massey’s return.

      In moments, he stood tall before her. Very tall. And broad shouldered. Still flashy, though. “Thank you.”

      “For what?”

      Again with the lady-killer smile. “You could have gone inside.”

      Faith shrugged. Was he being polite or flirting? It shouldn’t matter, but tell that to the shiver that raced up her spine. “Come on.”

      Dale silently followed, but his presence spoke louder than any cymbal. He had a very manly presence for a well-groomed city slicker. She had a feeling this man knew more about high fashion than she did.

      Faith spotted her mom charging down the hallway. Ranger, their white poodle, pranced right alongside her.

      Faith stopped.

      Dale bumped into her. “Sorry.”

      Faith ignored her skin’s gooseflesh at the brief contact. “Mom, this is Dale Massey. Daddy arranged for him to stay here.”

      Her mother’s smile broadened and she extended her hands. “Dale. How good of you to come.”

      “Mrs. Shaw.” He reached for her mother’s hand, but Nadine Shaw pulled him into a hearty embrace and even slapped his back before letting go.

      Faith bit her lip to keep from laughing at the shock on Dale Massey’s face.

      “Call me Nadine. Everyone does.” Her mom scooped up the dog. “This is Ranger. And it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

      “I’m honored.” He flashed that smile and ignored the dog.

      Nadine pinched his arm, getting mostly wool coat. “Ooohhhh, nice material. Faith, look out for this one. Pastor Ethan’s got competition here.”

      Faith felt her eyes bulge as she gave her mom a pointed look.

      But her mother kept going. “Faith’s our only daughter left unwed. Julie, our youngest, hitched up last month. As did my oldest boy.”

      “Mom!”

      “Well...it’s true.” Nadine smiled.

      Dale listened with forced interest. This guy was polished with a capital P, but he humored her mother, who made them sound like a bunch of backward clodhoppers.

      “Show Dale to his room, honey. Your father’s at a meeting in town, so dinner will be a late. Dale, you’re dining with us.” Her mom gave him a wink. “Do you have any allergies we should know about?”

      Dale cocked an eyebrow. “None, Nadine. And dinner sounds fine.”

      If he was put out by her mom’s orders, Dale didn’t show it. Well, maybe not too visibly, but Faith had seen his chin lift a tad. The man had manners and ironclad control on his facial expressions.

      She gestured for him to follow. “Come on.”

      Dale hoisted his suitcase and followed her without a word. He was probably shell-shocked.

      Taking each step of the wide staircase, Faith was aware of every movement made with Dale behind her. What was he thinking? Wait, she didn’t want to know. Men like him thought women were trophies or belt-buckle notches.

      Not this woman. Faith rubbed her hands, made rough from ranch chores, her fingertips callused from her violin. She was smarter now.

      She glanced back at the man who’d be underfoot for at least a week. He’d be around long enough for the homecoming celebration this weekend and the Thanksgiving parade the following week. “Will your family join you?”

      A muscle rippled along Dale’s jaw. “No.”

      “Oh.” Faith kept moving. They were worlds apart. She couldn’t imagine a holiday without family. Maybe she was as naive as ever to think family mattered to everyone.

      Cord had told her that