"I take it you're hooked, then?"
In more ways than one, a little voice whispered. "It kind of puts your life into perspective when you're sitting on top of the world, watching nature do what it's done for hundreds of thousands of years."
Turning the heat down on the barbecue, Trent brushed more marinade over the meat.
Gracie took a sip of her drink. "I'm beginning to understand how you feel about the land. If I'd grown up here, I'd want to raise my family on the ranch as well."
Dropping the barbecue fork, Trent turned to face her. "Be still my beating heart. Does this mean you'll marry a lowly cowboy?"
"No," she laughed. "Life isn't supposed to be that easy."
"You're a cruel woman."
She blew him a kiss. "That's what they all say." Thinking about his desperate bid to find a wife reminded her of the reason she'd come to Montana. Over the last week she hadn't had any luck tracking down any more J. Greens.
She'd even caught a ride into town with Jordan, convincing him to do a drive-by of two addresses she'd found in the phone book. He'd taken his beat-up work truck, sitting hunched in the driver's seat with his hat pulled low, just in case someone recognized him. He hadn't wanted to add stalking to his colorful reputation around town.
"I had a call from Gerald today." Trent turned back to the barbecue. "His mom's not doing as well as they expected. He's going to stay with her for another few weeks. He wants to know if you're happy to do the whole six weeks out here first and the last two in Bozeman."
Gracie held the cold can of lemonade to her flushed face. "How do you feel about that?"
"Fine by me. As long as you're happy?"
Gracie stared long and hard at his back. He didn't seem worried about living together for another four weeks. She'd almost been looking forward to going into Bozeman. At least that way she could get on with her life and leave Trent to find the perfect Mrs. McKenzie. Wanting to jump his bones every time she saw him hardly made for a stress-free living arrangement.
"Gracie?" Trent's back muscles clenched under his fitting T-shirt as he turned to look at her.
She dragged her gaze back to her drink. She really had to do something about her fascination with his body. "Okay, let's give it a go. But if I start to annoy you, just tell me and I'll head into town."
"Can I have that in writing?"
Gracie sighed. "I'll leave it on the kitchen counter in the morning. What time are you leaving for tonight's poker game?"
"Are you trying to get rid of me?"
"Only when you've finished cooking dinner," she said sweetly.
"Just for that, you can have the burned piece of steak."
Jordan walked onto the deck, looking a lot cleaner since the last time Gracie had seen him. He'd spent the afternoon with his head buried in a work truck, covered in grease and engine oil, grumbling non-stop about idiot people who didn't know how to look after their vehicles.
"You need to have a serious talk with your brother, Jordan. He wants to give me burned meat for dinner."
"He usually saves that for me. You must be making an impression on him."
Trent choked on his lemonade. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and glared at his brother. "And you would be here because?"
"I'm hungry, and you're giving me a lift into the game tonight." Jordan glanced at the barbecue. "Sausages need a turn. I'll just go and get myself a plate and then it looks as though dinner's ready."
Trent watched his brother swagger into the dining room. "How did he know we're about to have dinner?"
"It could have something to do with the smoke signals you're wafting over the ranch." Gracie laughed. "It was probably the burned steak that did it."
***
Saturday morning dawned bright and clear. Gracie stood in the kitchen, munching on a piece of toast and watching the first rays of the sun peek over the horizon. Trent came into the room looking all sleep tousled and cuddly.
"Gracie? What are you doing up and dressed so early?"
"Morning to you, too." Smiling at his stunned expression, she added milk to her mug of chocolate. "We're going into Bozeman for the farmers' market, remember?"
"Yeah, but it's only five thirty. We don't have to leave for another hour yet." He yawned and scratched the back of his head. "Why aren't you still in bed?"
"I promised Karen I'd make more pavlovas for the barn dance. I made five yesterday and there's another two in the oven. By the time we leave, they'll be done."
Trent reached across the counter, pouring himself a thick, black mug of coffee. Just thinking about the mega-dose of caffeine hitting his system was enough to make Gracie's stomach turn.
Trent leaned back against the counter. A look of bliss settled on his face as he swallowed his first sip. "I know, I know. This stuff's not good for me. But it tastes really good first thing in the morning."
Reaching for her hot chocolate, Gracie raised it in a salute, "We've all got to live dangerously at some point. How did the poker game go?"
Trent shook his head. "Not good. Adam cleaned me out of chips twice." He glared across the room as Jordan came bounding into the kitchen. "What on earth are you doing here this early?"
"Isn't that just dandy. A person gives up their Saturday morning sleep-in to be greeted by a grumpy old man in the morning." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Not exactly husband making material there."
Gracie coughed as a toast crumb disappeared down her windpipe.
Trent glared at her. "Gracie?"
"Not me, I haven't said a word. Scout's promise."
Jordan opened the fridge, pulling out last night's leftovers. "The trouble with you, big brother, is that you think we're all as blinkered as you are. Mom said you've been looking for a lady-love. What could be more romantic than meeting Ms. Right in the middle of a pile of hay?" He looked across at Gracie.
She felt herself blush scarlet.
Jordan stuck a plate of food in the microwave. "I've seen the guest list and the single girls are coming from far and wide. You're not the only one who wants to look good, bro'."
"You must think you're a lost cause if you're up at five thirty to get cleaned-up." Trent poured another cup of coffee, holding it out to his brother as he passed by.
"Some of us don't need to stay in bed to look beautiful, and some of us need all the help they can get." He stared pointedly at Trent. "As I'm not the man in the firing line, I can afford to be a little more relaxed about my ruggedly handsome features."
Gracie burst out laughing, earning her a sharp glance from Trent. Which made her laugh even harder.
Jordan winked at Gracie. "Mom gave me a list of jobs to do this morning. After I've had breakfast, I thought I'd go across to the barn and make sure the decorations didn't fall off the wall last night." He eyed the toast that had just popped. "Are you going to eat that or just look at it?"
Trent sighed, passing him the toast.
Gracie rinsed her dishes and put them in the dishwasher. "I'll be back in ten minutes, Jordan. I'll meet you over at the barn and give you a hand until Trent's ready to leave."
Jordan grunted as Gracie left the room.
Trent followed her out of the kitchen. "Wait up, Gracie. I've got a surprise for you. Take a look in the living room."
She stopped in the hallway. "You've found a wife already?"
"Ha ha, very funny."
Gracie stuck her head around the wooden door on her left, not quite trusting the grinning cowboy behind her. "My suitcases!" She ran across the room and hugged her neon pink bags like long lost friends. "How did they get here?"
"Someone from the airport called yesterday afternoon. Jordan and I picked them up on the way to the game last night." A slow smile spread across his face. "The cases are almost as tall as you are. How much gear did you need to bring?"
"I've got an outfit for every occasion in here." Gracie flipped a bag onto its end and extended the handle. "I never thought I'd see my clothes again."
"Pretty hard to miss
four bright pink suitcases. We got some funny looks when we were wheeling them out to the truck. I'll give you a hand to put them upstairs."
Trent leaned forward, taking the case Gracie wheeled past him out of her hands. His fingers brushed her skin and a jolt of something she didn't want to name licked along her body.
He reached for another suitcase. "How's the hunt going for your father?"
She breathed a sigh of relief. At least he hadn't noticed the heat whipping along her skin. "Three crossed off my list, not including Kristina's husband." Gracie lifted the handles on the last two suitcases.
"Do you want help narrowing down the list?"
"I'll be okay. You need to concentrate on finding a wife."
Trent stopped in the middle of the room and scowled. "Have you thought about what's going to happen after you find him?"
"Up until eight months ago, I thought my father was dead. Just knowing why he left would be better than nothing." She pulled on the handles of her suitcases and wheeled them past Trent.
"Wait a minute. Why did you think your father was dead?"
"Mom told me he died in an accident when she was pregnant with me." Gracie hauled her cases upright and turned to look at Trent. "He was a rodeo star. They met each other when he was touring New Zealand and she fell head over heels in love with him. For thirty years I believed they'd been married." Gracie shook her head, feeling like a fool for all of the daydreams she'd built around the happy family that had never existed.
"What kind of a mother would lie about something like that?"
Gracie had wondered the same thing. She'd been angry and upset when her mom had finally told her the truth. But those feelings were nothing compared to the grief that had swept through her when her mom died. "She came from a small town. People talked. It wasn't like it is today. She was eighteen, pregnant, and her parents weren't happy. She ran away from home and lived with a friend in Wellington. She pretended she had a different life because it protected her from gossip and made it easier to make a life for us."
"What made her change her mind and tell you the truth?"
Gracie felt the same swell of emotion that built deep in her chest whenever she thought about the last few months of her mom's life. "She was diagnosed with terminal cancer and died six months later." Gracie bit her bottom lip, trying to hold back the rush of tears that never seemed to end. She took a deep breath and glanced at Trent. "I guess it was her way of letting me know that I wasn't alone in the world."
Trent dropped the bags he was carrying and wrapped Gracie in a hug. She held onto his waist, burying her face in the musky scent that would always remind her of him.
"I'm sorry, Gracie."
"I'm okay." She took a step back and wiped her eyes. "I promised mom I'd try and find my father. But I don't know what's going to happen if I do find him or what I'm going to say."
Trent gently tipped her chin up with his fingers. His eyes were soft and sincere and her heart melted. "I'll be here for you when you find him, Gracie. We can sort it out together." A grin crinkled the corners of his eyes. "But in the meantime, we've got four monster suitcases waiting to be delivered. You want to give me a hand?"
Gracie nodded. "Thanks, Trent."
"You're welcome, short-stuff."
***
Gracie enjoyed every minute of her visit to the Farmers' Market in Bozeman. As they'd wandered around the craft stalls, they'd munched waffles thick with fresh strawberry jam and cream. Colorful tents sat side-by-side under a clear blue sky, everyone happy to talk about what they were selling or to pass the time of day with a Kiwi tourist.
After the craft section, Trent took her across to the fresh produce area. In no time at all they had the truck loaded with food, ready for the barn dance that night. As soon as they got back to the Triple L, Karen came bounding down the stairs followed by six of 'the girls.'
"Morning everyone." Karen opened the back of the truck and started passing out the boxes of fresh fruit and vegetables. "We've put the desserts in the living room so no sneaking samples, Trent. Jordan's already been banned. Corn, potatoes, greens and bread all go in the kitchen. Jenny, can you take the fruit into the dining room and start on the platters?"
Karen commanded her troops with military precision. By early afternoon, they'd washed, cut, scooped and plated so many dishes that Gracie's head spun. They'd ended up with enough food to feed half the town and then some.
Trent stuck his head around the kitchen door as Karen cut the last tomato. "The barbecues are ready and we've unpacked the plastic plates and cutlery. Jordan's showing the band where to set up, so we're good to go." He stared at the kitchen. "Man, look at all this food. There's not one scrap of spare counter space anywhere."
Karen smiled, "Its good practice for a wedding reception."
Gracie watched the color drain from Trent's face. He wasn't happy. It would be a big night for everyone, even bigger for a man looking for the perfect wife. Maybe he had performance issues. Stress could do funny things to some people, but she was ready and willing to give him a pep talk before the guests arrived.
Trent flicked a glance her way. "Give me a yell if you need anything. I'll be with Jordan."
Gracie smiled at his back, watching him make a quick getaway. The thought of a wedding reception must have scared him worse than she thought. He didn't stand a chance against four available women, let alone a mother who had marriage on her mind.
She added another handful of grapes to the fruit salad, moving out of Karen's way as she placed two huge bowls of strawberries on the table. Roll on five o'clock. The scene was set, now it was up to fate and a desperate cowboy to take the lead role.
***
Gracie stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Even if she said so herself, she looked pretty good for a greenhorn from New Zealand. Her hair sat in a mass of soft curls around her face, thanks to half a bottle of conditioner and more than a few squirts of hairspray. A touch of eye shadow, a flick of mascara and a coat of the palest peach lipstick she owned kept her makeup understated and fresh. Unlike her dress.
While she'd been shopping with Karen, Gracie had bought herself a saucy cowgirl outfit. As Karen had rightly pointed out, her reputation had already been embellished. A flirty little outfit should hardly come as a surprise to anyone that had heard Caitlin's Walmart story.
A pair of jeans and cowboy boots wouldn't do for a woman mad enough to jump on a plane and travel thousands of miles to live with a cowboy she'd never met.
The black cowgirl dress Gracie had chosen finished about four inches below her panty line. It hugged her body like a second skin. The only thing remotely demure about the outfit was the silver stitching embroidered around the collar and over the top of the short sleeves. A wide black belt sat low on her hips, complete with a big silver buckle covered with sparkly stones. Gracie slipped her feet into her favorite pair of ankle boots. Grabbing the black cowboy hat off her bed, she placed it on her head, admiring the way the crystal band twinkled in the bedroom lights.
By the end of the night, no one would be under the illusion that Trent McKenzie and Gracie Donnelly were a couple. Two of the four potential Mrs. Trent McKenzies would be crossed off his list, and two would have happy faces beside their names. Even if her feet lived to regret it, she'd dance with every cowboy in the room before she danced a single two-step with Trent. After tonight, he'd be on his own. Gracie had helped him find a wife and it was up to him to find true love.
Skimming an extra coat of lipstick across her mouth, she gave her reflection one last look. She glanced at the list beside her bed, tweaked her skirt, and headed toward the stairs into party command central. Showtime had arrived.
***
Trent glanced at his watch for the third time. If Gracie didn't get down here soon, she'd miss the first group of guests that were parking in the field.
A wolf-whistle filled the living room. He looked across at Jordan. His brother was almost drooling on the spot. Turning around, T
rent tried to see who or what had turned him to mush - and stopped breathing.
Blood roared through his veins as Gracie sashayed down the stairs in an outfit made for pleasure. The sparkly buckle sitting low on her waist drew a man's eye straight to her legs. She might not be tall, but she'd been designed perfectly. Gracie had just the right amount of curves to set a man's mind to wondering how her body might feel nestled close against his. And a wicked sense of humor that knew what to do with those curves when she got there.
His body tightened. He knew what those curves felt like, and call him selfish, he wasn't inclined to share.
She walked toward him, placing one of her fingers under his slack jaw. "You can swallow now, Trent."
He gazed down into her eyes, nearly throwing her over his shoulder when he saw the mischief lurking in their depths. "You can't wear that dress in public."
Picking a stray piece of cotton from the front of his shirt, Gracie fluttered her lashes and whispered, "Where would you like me to wear it?"
Raw heat scorched his skin.
She gazed up at him with big blue eyes full of laughter. "Are you ready to woo your ladies tonight, handsome?"
He shook his head. If she walked into the barn wearing that outfit he'd spend all night making sure no cowboy started wooing her. Keeping tabs on the four remaining women on his list seemed insignificant compared to keeping tabs on Gracie.
"Little Lady," Jordan purred. "Why don't you let my big brother sort out his guests while you and I take a walk on the wild side?"
Trent glared at Jordan. Hogtying him in a field and leaving him there until the morning sounded like a mighty fine start to the evening.
Gracie laughed, grabbing Trent's arm. "Thanks for the offer, Jordan, but your brother and I have something to discuss. Save me a dance or two." She ran her gaze around the room. "Come on, Trent. I think the only quiet place down here is going to be your office. Just keep looking straight ahead otherwise you'll be given something to do." She pulled him across the room, closing the office door behind them.
He watched as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. Not a good idea. The bottom of her dress lifted half an inch toward heaven. Half an inch it couldn't afford. "You can't wear that outfit." He sat down in his chair. "Every time you move, that damn dress rides up another notch."
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