Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

W hat a mess!

Everleigh Miller drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as her gaze swept the patio, the garden, and expanse of lush green lawn, her pride and joy. It was quiet now, the dozens of tables set up on the freshly mowed grass empty, the wedding guests having gone home, or in the case of the ranch hands, gone back to work, which never ceased on a successful ranch like Monta?a del Trueno. Lucy, the bride—the youngest of her sister's children and the only girl—and groom were on their way to Serenity to start their new life together.

"It was a lovely wedding. Lucy looked so beautiful." Hilde picked up a platter of leftover ribs from the table and looked at her.

"Yes, it was and yes, she did," Evie agreed, as her focus switched from the mess to Hilde, who had accompanied her to the ranch twenty years ago when she'd been given the honor of raising Regina's children. She cringed a little bit inside, aware this was just the beginning of their conversation, knowing almost exactly the argument Hilde would give, since she had no issue with expressing her opinions, which she did quite often, as unwelcome as they might be.

"You have fulfilled your obligation to your sister," she insisted. "Her children are all grown and married now. It's your turn, I think, ja?" Funny how this particular subject always made Hilde's accent become stronger, despite the fact she'd left her native Germany over forty years ago.

"My turn? For what?" Evie licked a bit of frosting off her finger, then picked up the plate holding the remains of one of the four wedding cakes; she'd send it out to the bunkhouse later for the ranch hands to enjoy, though she knew each and every one of her vaqueros had eaten well at the party. She'd heard the groans of over-stuffed bellies and sighs of satisfaction.

Hilde chuckled in her deep guttural way. "Romance. Love. Someone of your own," Hilde called after her.

Evie scoffed as she strode under the awning that shaded this part of the patio and headed toward the kitchen door. "I had that once. It didn't work."

"Ja, you did, but the good Marshal has been gone a long time and you've been alone since he passed." Hilde marched past her, her skirts twitching as she did so. Evie hid her grin. Hilde wouldn't give up, which was one of the reasons she loved her so much.

She laid the cake platter on the table in the big kitchen and just stood there for a moment, surveying the mess she and her companions would spend the next few hours cleaning. Still, despite the chaos and disorder, this room was her favorite. She'd spent many happy hours here, learning to cook, sharing meals with the children, holding hands with Marshal Tom Gray and planning their future. They were to be married until the Good Lord took him home by way of a bullet.

They would have had a good life if he had lived. Instead, she had concentrated on raising Regina's children and building Monta?a del Trueno into one of the most successful ranches in New Mexico.

She pushed thoughts of Tom and what might have been away, and focused on the here and now. Glancing toward the sink, she saw Hilde leaning against the porcelain tub, her graying hair braided into its usual coronet atop her head. The expression on her face was one she knew well—mouth set in a grim line, hazel eyes, more green than brown, steady on her. There would be no reprieve. Their conversation was far from over.

"I'm only looking out for you, liebchen ."

Evie squelched a groan. Hilde would say what she had to say, whether or not Evie wanted to hear it.

"I think it's time you were happy."

She held up her hand to stop the conversation, then turned on her heel and fled outside to her sanctuary of growing things, ignoring the looks on her friends Felicity and Marisol's faces as she passed them, their arms full of more dishes needing to be washed. She let out a sigh as her hand gripped the lattice arbor that had served as the altar for the wedding ceremony. Roses, in full bloom, their fragrance scenting the air, clung to the wooden frame, the red, pink, and yellow blossoms and verdant green leaves a sharp contrast to the pristine white bunting woven between the slats.

She was happy, wasn't she? She didn't need a man for that. She'd done quite well without one all these years. It would have been a different story if Tom had lived, but he hadn't.

She turned away from the arbor to continue cleaning and came face-to-face with "Uncle" Charley, a dear friend of her late mother and her unofficial uncle. He and his wife, Felicity, would be staying at the ranch for as long as they wanted, now that he had decided to retire. His last official act as a judge had been presiding over Lucy's marriage to Ben Hart. "It was a fine wedding and a heck of a party," Charley said.

"Yes, it was." She smiled at the man she'd known all her life as she walked to one of the nearby tables set up on the lawn. "Thank you for officiating."

"My pleasure. I wouldn't have missed it for the world." He followed her, then started gathering plates from the table, but his focus was on her.

She could tell just from the expression on his face he had more to say. "What?"

"I'm sorry he didn't show up."

Evie stiffened, her muscles tensing as she grabbed a plate, adding it to the stack in his hands. "Who? My father?"

He nodded, sadness and understanding in his eyes.

She shrugged, as if it didn't matter, though it did. The Honorable Reginald Miller hadn't come, though she had invited him. She hadn't expected he would—he hadn't showed up for the weddings of his grandsons—but she still had to try. It would have been nice for him to acknowledge his grandchildren for once. Or her, for that matter, though he had disowned her when she left San Francisco and came to Monta?a del Trueno to raise Regina's sons and daughter, just as he had disowned Regina when she married Javier Silva against his demands all those years ago.

"I saw him before Felicity and I came here. Tried to convince him to come, but…" A flush stole over his face and his grip tightened on the stack of plates in his hand. "He's a hard man, Evie. Still angry with you after all these years."

"I know. He'll never forgive me. I disobeyed him. I went against his dictates, choosing to honor Regina's request instead of his." She remembered like it was yesterday, that awful day Uncle Charley had delivered the news her sister had died and she had been named guardian for Regina's children, remembered the terrible things her father had yelled at her, disparaging both her and Regina. "But it's all right. He doesn't have to forgive me. I made my decision and it was the right one. I wouldn't change a thing. It's just a shame he missed out on—" She spread her arms wide, encompassing everything. "—all this and the fine people his grandchildren have become."

He shook his head, his eyes glowing with affection. "You're a good woman, Evie. Not everyone would have walked away from their life and home and done what you did, and I, for one, am proud of you." He gestured with the plates in his hands. "I'll just bring these into the house."

And with those words, he turned away and strode toward the kitchen. She watched him go, noticing the heaviness in his step, realizing how much she loved him—like the father she wished she had. He and Felicity had stood behind her decision, for good or bad. She grabbed a handful of silverware, but her thoughts weren't on her task. She'd spoken the truth. She wouldn't have changed a thing. Though it had been difficult at times, especially in the beginning, she had enjoyed every moment of raising her sister's children and turning Monta?a del Trueno into a profitable ranch anyone would be proud to own. Still, after all this time, she wished circumstances had been different, wished Regina and Javier were here to share all this with her. "Ah, Gina, why did you have to die?"

" Tia Evie? Who are you talking to?"

Recognizing the voice of her niece, she schooled her features to hide her emotions, and turned away from the table, silverware clutched in her hand. Lucy stood before her, resplendent in her traveling ensemble of green and gold, her long, deep-brown hair pulled away from her face in an intricate style, reminding her so much of her mother when Regina was young.

"What are you doing back here, mi corazón ? I thought you'd left already."

She came forward and grasped Evie's hand, happiness glowing on her face. And why wouldn't she be happy? Just a few hours ago she'd married the man she loved since she was a child.

"We did," Lucy said, "but we turned around. I couldn't leave without thanking you."

"Thanking me? For what?"

Lucy grinned, though there was something a little odd about her smile—like she had a secret she couldn't wait to tell. "For the beautiful wedding and your generous gift. Ben and I are thrilled with the house in Serenity." She paused, her mocha brown eyes shiny with tears. "But mostly, I thank you for loving me. I don't remember Mama. I was so very young when she died, but you…you have always been there for me, loved me even when I was unlovable…you loved all of us, and I just wanted you to know how grateful I am. We all are. You're the best mother a woman could ever have." She wrapped her arms around her. "I love you, Tia Evie."

Evie sniffed back the sudden onslaught of tears, though the truth was those tears hadn't been very far away and hugged her. "I love you, too, mi dulce angel ." She released her and coughed to hide the tightness in her throat. "Now, go, before I make a complete fool of myself."

Lucy kissed her cheek, then turned quickly and ran toward her husband waiting at the edge of the garden, near the gate. She waved once, then called out, words Evie couldn't quite make out, something about enjoying a gift and then she laughed. There was no denying the happiness on Lucy's face as she linked her arm through Ben's, and they disappeared around the side of the house.

Evie stood there, emotion tightening her throat, her gaze focused on the spot she'd last seen them, then turned her attention back to the mess that wouldn't clean itself. She dropped the silverware on the table, pulled a handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress where it met her wrist, and dabbed at her eyes, but she still smiled. Lucy was proof she'd done a good job after all, despite her doubts. The children had been so young when she'd first come to the ranch. They'd all grown to be responsible, intelligent adults. They knew they'd been loved. She couldn't ask for more.

She piled more plates into a stack, added a handful of silverware, and brought everything into the house. She scraped the remnants of food into the slop bucket for the pigs before placing the dishes into the sink full of soapy water.

Hilde, elbows deep in that soapy water, turned to glance at her and opened her mouth. "I meant what I said, Evie. You should find someone of your own."

"I'm done talking about it, Hilde."

"But—"

"No. I am fine as I am. I'm happy. In truth, I'm not interested in finding a husband, but if it's fated for me to marry, then I will. In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you'd stop pestering me about it." She leaned over and kissed the woman on the cheek. "I know you're looking out for me. I know you want me to be as happy as you and Antonio are. And I love you for it, but I've accepted the fact that what you have may not be in the cards for me. And I'm not willing to gamble my heart again."

Before Hilde could say another word, Evie fled the kitchen and headed back outside, where there was still more to be done. Feeding the nearly one hundred people had taken days to prepare and necessitated borrowing glasses, silverware, and the like from her friends.

She piled more plates one on top of the other, turned to head back into the house, and stopped.

A man—a complete stranger—stood not twenty feet from her, hat in hand—the most handsome man she'd ever seen. Black hair, though there was gray at his temples, which looked like reflected hints of polished silver beneath the sun's glare. He was tall, too, much taller than her five-foot seven-inch frame. And for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. Indeed, she couldn't even blink. Afraid she might drop the stack of dishes, she clenched her hands, gripping the plates tightly.

Her mouth opened, but no words issued forth, like they were stuck in her throat—her suddenly dry throat.

He walked toward her. Well, not walked, but sort of sauntered, like he hadn't a care in the world, his long legs eating up the ground between them in short order. Startling amber eyes captured her attention. And then he smiled.

Her lungs figured out how to function as she drew in air. His smile was, in no uncertain terms, devastating.

"I rang the bell at the front door, but no one answered." His voice, deep and rich, rumbled through her like thunder in the distance. "I'm looking for Everleigh Miller."

She swallowed—hard—and finally found her voice. "I'm Evie Miller. How can I help you?"

He tilted his head as his gaze roamed over her face. She felt the heat of that gaze all the way to her toes. It warmed her from the inside out, making her fingers tingle with the urge to touch his handsome features. No one had looked at her that way in an awfully long time.

For as much as she denied it and didn't think it would happen for her, she did want romance. And passion. Someone to spend the rest of her life with.

The man's gaze drifted to the rose arbor and the festive bunting fluttering in the breeze, then down at the wedding cake still on the table, that devastating smile never leaving his face. "Well, for starters, you can tell me that I didn't miss our wedding."

She blinked, confusion running rampant in her brain. "I'm afraid I don't understand. Who are you?"

"Jake. Jake Hannigan."

His warm amber gaze met hers and locked. She couldn't turn away. She'd never heard the name before, she was sure of it. And she'd never met him. She would have remembered. How could one forget a smile like that? "Forgive me, please, but I'm confused. Did you say ‘our' wedding?"

"I did."

Evie opened her mouth, but before she could say a word, he asked, "You are Everleigh Miller, correct?"

"I am."

"And you were not expecting me?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

Bewilderment clouded his handsome face and those eyes that seemed to see into her soul. He let out a sigh and then he smiled, a bit impishly. "Well, this is awkward."

"Yes, it is." She put the plates on the table to stop the cramping in her fingers from holding them so tightly. "Perhaps, you can tell me why you think I would be expecting you. And why you think we are to be married."

"The advertisement in the newspaper?"

She shook her head, still thoroughly baffled. "I didn't place any advertisements in the newspaper. And the only reason I would place one is to hire ranch hands, but I'm not looking for any at the moment." He didn't seem like a man who liked getting dirty, not in the fancy duds he was wearing—blackest black trousers and suit jacket, gold brocade vest, and pristine white shirt. Evie knew excellent quality clothing when she saw it, and what he wore did not belong to a vaquero .

He flashed a self-confident grin and her insides turned to mush. "Not a ranch hand. A husband."

"A husband?" she repeated, taken aback by the statement. "There must be some mistake. I would never do something like that."

"But you did." He reached out and gently rubbed his thumb against her cheek, causing an immediate reaction she hadn't expected, nor experienced before. Her stomach quivered and her knees grew weak even as blood rushed to her face.

Humor twinkled in his eyes. "You had frosting on your face."

Startled by the gentleness of his touch and the rush of pleasure as well as embarrassment coursing through her, it took Evie a moment or two to gain her composure. "You must be looking for a different Everliegh Miller. I have never, or would I ever, advertise for a husband."

"And why is that?"

She shrugged. "I don't need one."

He laughed. "From what I understand from the wives of my limited acquaintance, no woman really needs a husband, but they can be quite handy to have around."

Evie just stared at him. "How can you find this amusing? It isn't."

He sobered but a sparkle remained in his eyes. "Think about it, Miss Miller. It is sort of funny."

"I don't think so." Her gaze roamed over his face. It was a handsome face, with laugh lines extending from the corners of his eyes and a charming smile. "Would you mind waiting here for a moment? Please, help yourself to a cup of coffee and a piece of cake. I need to find out what's going on, who brought you here, and why."

"Of course."

With as much decorum as she could muster, she walked away and let herself into the kitchen, her mind a whirlwind of questions. Her gaze went to her friend Marisol standing beside the sink, dish towel in her hand as she dried the dishes Hilde washed, then to Felicity, Charley's wife, sitting at the table, sorting clean silverware into their respective boxes. "There is a strange man in my garden," she said.

"A strange man? Here? In your garden?" Hilde repeated the statement, rather stupidly, in Evie's opinion, then turned back to the sink, but not before Evie saw a hint of a smile. Suspicion made her stiffen as she stared at Hilde's back then eyed each of her friends in turn—Marisol, the one who never forgot a detail, and Felicity, Miss Manners herself. They, one at a time, met her stare for a moment before dropping their gazes.

"Would someone explain why there is a man standing in my garden, claiming to be my future husband?" She waited, arms folded across her chest and waited a little longer. No one, it seemed, was willing to answer. She tapped her foot on the Saltillo tile, the sound loud in the suddenly silent room. "Well? Is anyone going to answer me?"

"It was Lucy's idea," Felicity blurted out, her face turning pink. "She wrote an advertisement for a husband and put it in the newspaper."

"Lucy did what?"

"At the time, we all agreed it was a good idea," Marisol added. "You've been taking care of everyone for so long, Evie, you've forgotten how to live for yourself. And Lucy didn't want you to be lonely now that she's married and going to live in town."

Evie paused to calm her thoughts before she asked, "You all thought it would be a good idea to arrange for a…a mail order husband for me?"

"What does he look like? " Felicity rose from the table and peeked out the window of the kitchen door. "Ooh, look! He's handsome!"

Marisol and Hilde joined her.

"So, what am I supposed to do with him?" Evie asked.

All three looked at each other, then answered in unison, "Marry him."

Heat rose to her face at the knowledge her friends—and her niece—would do something so underhanded, so—she couldn't even think of the word—but if it weren't happening to her, the situation would be humorous. These women, her closest companions, more like sisters than friends, were only looking out for her best interest. So was Lucy—dear, sweet, conniving Lucy.

"I don't need a husband, and even if I did, don't you all think I couldn't find one on my own?" She looked at all of them gathered at the back door, staring at the handsome stranger in her yard. "This is so embarrassing."

"Not at all," Marisol said. "There are a lot of people who meet and marry this way. It's perfectly acceptable."

She looked at her closest friend, then at the women beside her. "You are all out of your minds!"

"You always said you'd look for your own happiness once all the children were married," Marisol argued. "You said?—"

She cut Marisol off in mid-sentence. "I know what I said, but I didn't mean on the same day as Lucy's wedding. That's just ridiculous! And it should be my decision. I should be the one to choose instead of having a strange man, whom I know nothing about, just show up on my doorstep and tell me we are to be married." She threw up her hands in frustration. "I don't know who any of you are!"

Lucy! The instigator in this whole mess! No wonder she had laughed as she and Ben disappeared around the corner of the house. Now her words made sense. He was her gift.

"What are you going to do?" Marisol asked without looking at her—her focus still on the handsome stranger.

Evie had an idea. If this man was truly serious about marrying her then he would have to prove himself, show her what kind of man he was. "I'm going to invite him to stay," she said. "Now move away from the door and stop ogling the man."

Once they did as she asked, she left the kitchen, closing the door with a bang behind her.

He—her mail order husband—sat at one of the tables, long legs stretched out before him. A calico cat, the one Lucy had named Flower, sat on his lap. He smoothed his hand over her fur in long, steady caresses. He had helped himself to a cup of coffee and a piece of cake, but they sat on the table, untouched while he stroked the cat, who seemed to be enjoying the attention, which was unusual. Flower didn't normally take to strangers and never—ever—sat on someone's lap and allowed herself to be petted like this. They all, at one time or another, bore the scars of her reluctance to be touched.

Evie slowed her pace and just watched for a moment, listening to his voice rumble as he spoke to Flower in hushed tones.

"My apologies, Mr.—what did you say your name was?"

He removed the cat from his lap and stood as she approached him, rising from his chair in one fluid motion, grabbing his hat as he did so, charming smile firmly in place. Oh, what that smile did to her! If she let herself, she could fall under its spell.

"Jake. Jake Hannigan."

The rich baritone resonated through her. "I am sorry, Mr. Hannigan, but it seems that you were brought here under false pretenses, by people I thought I knew. I did not place that ad. I am not in the mind to marry anyone." She glanced at the rose arbor and let out a sigh.

"I see." His fingers worried the brim of his hat. "I came here in good faith, Miss Miller, in order to marry you, as we agreed in our letters."

She held up her hand to stop him. "I never agreed to anything. I did not place the advertisement in the newspaper, nor did I write any letters. However, you can stay here at the ranch. We can always use another hand."

His eyes widened as if the thought of actually working was something he never considered. "A ranch hand?"

"Yes." She glanced at his hands. Not a callous to be seen. Nails perfectly trimmed. Certainly not the hands of a working man. Indeed, he didn't look like the kind of man who picked up anything heavier than a pen. Looks could be deceiving, though. She glanced at his broad shoulders and the sleeves of his suit jacket, noticing the muscles beneath the fabric. "You can stay in the bunkhouse. Antonio will get you settled."

"You want me to stay in the bunkhouse?"

"I do."

"Why can't I stay in the main house? It's certainly big enough." That grin appeared on his face again, doing funny things to her insides. He could probably charm the rattle from a rattlesnake with that smile. "It would be a way for us to get to know each other."

"Which is precisely why I want you to stay in the bunkhouse. We don't know each other at all. And as far as marriage is concerned, I am not promising anything."

"This letter says differently." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a letter, the envelope nearly pristine. He slid the pages from within and unfolded them before handing them to her.

Her hand shook a little, the pages rustling. She recognized the letterhead in an instant, as well as the handwriting. He took a step forward, leaned toward her until his mouth was only inches from her ear and spoke in a voice that was both knowing and sensual. "From this letter, I know many things about you, Miss Everleigh Miller, but I'd like to know more."

Gooseflesh broke out on her skin in an instant, and a flood of emotions cascaded through her. If the circumstances were different, she could have melted into his arms.

But she had never melted in anyone's arms, not even Tom's. She'd never allowed herself to lose control in that way and she wasn't about to start now, with a stranger she knew nothing about. Everything she had done—or not done—had been centered around the children and what was best for their future.

The children were grown now. Teddy and Esteban even had children of their own, though Heath did not, and Lucy was just beginning her married life.

She took a careful step back and raised her gaze to his face. She closed her eyes for a moment, searching for some semblance of dignity. "Mr. Hannigan, I've already told you that I did not write this letter, nor did I place any advertisements in any newspaper. Unbeknownst to me, my well-meaning niece placed the ad and wrote this letter. So these are your choices—you may stay and work the ranch as I've offered, or you may leave."

He carefully plucked the letter from her hand, folded it, and slipped it back into its envelope, his gaze never once leaving hers. "I'll stay."