Before Zach could let himself think about all the tragedy that had occurred back on his family ranch in Hardin, he heard the woman behind him speaking in an impatient voice.
“No. Not tonight. I have to go now, Mom. I have a customer. Bye.”
When he heard the phone click into place, Zach turned back to the desk to see the young woman, who appeared somewhere near his age, shoving away the tangle of curls falling about her face. She was wearing a green, loose-fitting T-shirt with the logo of some unknown rock band plastered across a pair of rounded breasts. Apparently the newspaper staff enjoyed a very relaxed dress code, Zach decided.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “Now if you’ll tell me again exactly what it is you want, I’ll see that your ad makes the next issue.”
His gaze dropped to the nameplate resting precariously on one corner of the crowded desk. “‘Lydia Grant. Assistant Manager,’” he read, then lifted a questioning glance to her. “Is that you?”
Her head made a quick bob, causing several curls to plop onto her forehead. “That’s me. Assistant manager is just one of my roles at the Gazette. I do everything around here. Including plumbing repair. You need a faucet installed?”
“Uh, no. I need a wife.”
The announcement clearly took her aback. “I thought I misheard you earlier. I guess I didn’t.”
Enjoying the look of dismay on her face, he gave her a lopsided grin. “Nope. You didn’t hear wrong. I want to advertise for a wife.”
Rolling the pencil between her palms, she eyed him with open speculation.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “You can’t get a wife the traditional way?”
As soon as Zach had made the decision to advertise for a bride, he’d expected to get this sort of reaction. He’d just not expected it from a complete stranger. And a female, at that.
“Sometimes it’s good to break from tradition. And I’m in a hurry.”
Something like disgust flickered in her eyes before she dropped her gaze to the scratch pad in front of her. “I see. You’re a man in a hurry. So give me your name, mailing address and phone number and I’ll help you speed up this process.”
She took down the basic information, then asked, “How do you want this worded? I suppose you do have requirements for your...bride?”
He drew up a nearby plastic chair and eased his long frame onto the seat. “Sure. I have a few. Where would you like to start?”
She looked up at him and chuckled as though she found their whole exchange ridiculous. Zach tried not to bristle. Maybe she didn’t think any of this was serious. But sooner or later Lydia Grant, and every citizen in Rust Creek Falls, would learn he was very serious about his search for a wife.
He hung his hat on his knee and raked a hand through his thick black hair. “Okay. Let’s start with her age. I’d like for her to be between twenty-two and twenty-five.”
“That sort of narrows things down, doesn’t it?” she asked as she quickly scribbled down the information.
“Well, since I’m twenty-seven, having my wife a few years younger would be best for me.”
“So you’re not attracted to older women?”
He frowned. “I’ve never dated an older woman. If that answers your question.”
She shot him a clever smile. “Too adventurous for you, I suppose.”
He should probably remind this woman that his personal preferences were none of her business. But she was so damned cute and quirky that he hated to come across like a jerk.
“Something like that,” he said. “As for other requirements, put down that she needs to be an excellent cook and homemaker. I love homemade pies and I hate messy houses.”
She began to write again. “You want that last sentence in the ad?”
“Uh, no. That was for your benefit. Just to explain,” he added.
She glanced up at him and he noticed the corners of her lips were curved into an impish smile. “No need to explain to me, Mr. Dalton. You’ll probably want to explain to the women who answer this ad, though. So are there any more conditions you require of your...applicants?”
She made the whole thing sound so calculated and sterile. It wasn’t going to be like that, Zach promised himself. When he started dating the right woman, he figured there would be plenty of fireworks to heat things up.
“Well, yes, there are more. It’s absolutely necessary that she loves kids.”
“Kids,” she repeated as she continued to rapidly write across the pad. “So you plan on having children with the woman who ends up meeting everything on your checklist?”
“She’ll be my wife. Naturally I plan to have children with her. And plenty of them, I might add.” He gestured to her notepad. “And you might as well add that she needs to get along with dogs and horses. No—change that line. She’ll need to love dogs and horses, just as much as she loves kids. I’m a rancher. So things would never work if the woman shied away from animals.”
“Dogs and horses. Got it.” She lifted those sparkling blue eyes back to his face. “Is there anything else? What about looks? Do they matter?”
Zach folded his arms against his chest. “I’m flexible. As long as she’s tall and willowy with long, straight hair, I’ll be satisfied.”
“I’ll say one thing, Mr. Dalton, you know what you want.”
“I like to think so, ma’am. You see, I’m a doer. I’m not one to wait around and watch the leaves fall off the trees before I decide to get ready for cold weather to hit.”
A sly smile curved her lips and Zach wondered what Lydia Grant might look like if she attempted to fix herself up. From the early morning sunlight streaming into the room, he could see there wasn’t a speck of makeup on her face and she’d made no effort to confine her unruly hair. It made him wonder if she’d overslept and not had time to stand in front of a mirror applying all the gooey, colorful stuff that made women look so fetching. Could be she was just the natural sort. Or maybe she was married and her husband preferred his wife to have a casual appearance.
In any case, it didn’t matter, Zach assured himself. Lydia Grant couldn’t be any further from his type. He liked girlie girls who wore dresses and lace and were all soft and feminine. This woman looked like she could easily help him build fences or round up cattle.
She tore the sheet of notes from the pad and placed it by the keyboard connected to a computer tower. “If you’ll give me a moment to figure this up, I’ll tell you the cost. How long would you like for the ad to run? A week? Two?”
He leaned forward and was surprised when he caught a faint whiff of perfume coming from her direction. It smelled like a particular flower. He didn’t know its name, but he recalled the scent emanating from his mother’s garden.
“Oh. I doubt a week will get the job done. Or even two. Better keep it up and running until I tell you to stop. I understand that will be more expensive. But in the long run it’ll be worth it,” he added with a wink.
She started to reply and the phone rang again. This time she let out a long breath and swiveled her chair so that she was facing an open doorway leading to the rear of the building.
“Curtis, get that, would you?” she practically yelled. “I’m with a customer!”
So