Finally a Bride. Renee Ryan

altogether off-putting. So everyone keeps telling me.

      Such a revealing response, and yet Molly hadn’t made the connection, not completely.

      “What was the equation you gave her?” Garrett asked, his voice disturbingly patient. “I need to know exactly what you said if I’m going to fix this for her.”

      Molly lifted her chin even higher. “I gave her a simple equation, with only four variables.”

      “Four variables,” he repeated, his gaze softening for a split second as he inched closer. “Only four, like always?”

      “Yes, like always.”

      Her stomach did a slow, spiraling somersault. She remembered the times they used to walk the rugged land, hand in hand, discussing their plans for the future. It hurt to realize how close they’d once been and yet how far apart they were now. Their chance at happiness had come and gone, in its place only long intervals of loneliness.

      “What were the variables?” Not waiting for her answer, he stepped back, looking pensive. She’d seen him like this too many times not to recognize that he was in planning mode.

      At least his anger had dissipated a bit.

      Sighing, Molly wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. “I told her to start with prayer.”

      “A wise beginning,” he admitted, a bit reluctantly if his grudging tone was anything to go by.

      “Then I said she should spend time in the Bible.”

      “Sound advice.” He released a jagged breath. “And the third variable?”

      “Trust in the Lord’s guidance, of course.”

      “Of course.” He almost smiled at her then, not quite but almost. It gave her the courage to continue.

      “And, lastly,” she squared her shoulders, “I told her...”

      She broke off, pressed her lips tightly together and looked away, because now she knew why Fanny had broken off her engagement with Reese.

      Clearly, her friend had been far more upset than she’d let on, and Molly hadn’t seen it. She hadn’t recognized that Fanny was deeply confused. In pain. Alone with her terrible doubts and concerns.

      If only she had recognized the truth.

      Would it have made a difference? No, she would have given her friend the same advice.

      “Molly.” Garrett’s voice dropped to a whisper. “What was the fourth variable you gave my sister?”

      She fought back a wave of sorrow, and maybe a little envy, knowing that Fanny had adopted the one part of the equation Molly had failed to apply to her own life.

      Twice, she’d convinced herself the final variable wasn’t important. Twice, she’d lied to herself. Twice, she’d suffered the utter humiliation of abandonment by a man who had proposed and claimed to love her above all others.

      “I told her to—”

      “The exact words, Molly. Your exact words.”

      “I said.” She stared into Garrett’s handsome, severe face with nothing but regret washing over her. “Follow your heart.”

      * * *

      Follow your heart.

      Only as Molly pronounced those three perplexing words did Garrett realize why he’d been so uncomfortable hearing them in Reese’s office. She’d given him the exact same advice seven years ago, when he’d struggled over whether to become a full-time rancher like his brothers, or pursue a career in law.

      Both avenues had appealed, for very different reasons. One had meant the comfort and safety of the known, of family. The other had called for a leap of faith, but had promised freedom from forever being labeled as that “other” Mitchell boy.

      Although he was satisfied with his choice—now—Garrett had been torn back then. Molly had methodically broken down each choice with him, calling on Scripture to reinforce various points. In the end, she’d left the decision up to him, with one final word of advice. You must follow your heart, Garrett.

      Follow his heart? What did that mean anyway? He still wasn’t sure.

      If Molly had given him any indication she wanted him to stay home, he would have become a rancher in a heartbeat. No regrets. But she hadn’t asked. She’d let him walk away from her, and all the plans they’d made in secret.

      You didn’t ask her to come with you, either. You didn’t ask her to wait for you.

      No. She was supposed to fight for him, for them. But she hadn’t. So he’d left. Angry, hurt, miserable.

      Pride. He’d had more than his share back then, probably still did. A trait he had in common with the lovely woman staring up at him.

      Long day, he thought, rubbing a hand over his face. Long, never-ending day full of too much emotion and too many memories.

      “Thank you, Molly. I appreciate your honesty.”

      She opened her mouth to respond.

      But Garrett wasn’t finished. “You have lent me considerable perspective on the situation.”

      She sucked in a ragged breath, pushed it out inside a humorless laugh. “Have I, now?”

      Her sarcasm made him wince. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he selected his next words carefully. “You can’t deny that your formula influenced Fanny’s decision.”

      “You still blame me for her actions?” Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “After I just explained what I said to her?”

      “I’m not blaming you...” He paused. “Not directly, at any rate. I’m merely pointing out your role in this unfortunate event.”

      “My role in this unfortunate event.” She repeated his words very calmly, very deliberately through very tight lips.

      Where was his finesse, Garrett wondered, his superior use of the English language? Exhaling slowly, he tried another tactic. “I’ve always believed, Molly, that one of your greatest gifts is your power of persuasion.”

      Her eyes filled with skepticism.

      “It’s true. Most people—” men especially “—can’t help but be swayed by your...” He searched for the right word. “Influence.”

      Garrett certainly had never been able to resist her charms. He’d thought of her often over the past seven years. Even now, softened by their common purpose, he couldn’t take his eyes off the girl he’d once loved more than his youthful heart could bear.

      “My...influence? You make me sound as crafty as Samson’s Delilah, or Potiphar’s wife at her most calculating. Or maybe—” she advanced on him, her jaw tight, her eyes flashing “—you think me as devious as Jezebel.”

      Sarcasm. Hurt. So much of both were there in her narrowed gaze, in the stiff angle of her shoulders.

      “It’s not a bad thing, you know, swaying people to your way of thinking.” For the most part, that’s how Garrett made his living. “Every person who meets you is better for the experience.”

      “Even you, Garrett?”

      “Especially me.” He prayed she heard the sincerity in his tone, the truth in his words. He never regretted loving Molly. He only regretted losing her, regretted not doing enough to win her heart once and for all.

      “Look, what I’m trying to say is...” What? What was he trying to say? “I’m sorry for implying your words persuaded Fanny’s behavior in this matter. My sister can be stubborn when she gets something in her head.”

      “That’s certainly true.” A beat passed. And then another. “Apology accepted.”

      She lifted a careless