Matchmaking with a Mission

“I will, thank you.” She turned, looking for the cowboy who’d given up the bid to her, but he’d apparently left right away.

As she moved up to the porch to take care of the paperwork, she noticed the man who’d parked on the road and watched from a distance also leaving. While she couldn’t see his face in the shadow of his Western straw hat, she had the impression he was upset.

IF NATE DEMPSEY HAD been superstitious, he would have gotten the hell out of Whitehorse the moment he’d seen the blond cowgirl again.

When he’d seen her in the small crowd that had gathered for the auction, he’d hoped she was here out of curiosity and nothing more. Ultimately he’d hoped that no one would bid on Harper House or that the minimum bid would be too high and that the house would remain empty just long enough for him to finish what he’d come here to do.

But that hope had been shot to hell the moment the young blonde began to bid. He’d seen her interest in the house when she’d come around the place before.

When she kept bidding, he knew she was determined to have Harper House.

When the dust settled, the bidding done, the blonde had the house. McKenna Bailey. He’d discovered he’d been right about her living nearby. Her family owned the ranch adjacent to the property. The Bailey girls, as they were known in these parts, had a reputation for being rough-and-tumble cowgirls with a streak of independence that ran as deep as their mule-headedness.

McKenna Bailey had proven that today.

Not the kind of woman who would be easily intimidated.

But as he drove away from Harper House he knew he had to find a way to make sure McKenna Bailey didn’t get in his way. He’d waited so long to end this, and now she had unknowingly put herself in the middle of more trouble than she could imagine.

He cursed the way his luck was going as he raced north toward the small Western town, ruing the day he’d ever laid eyes on Whitehorse, Montana—and McKenna Bailey.

BY THAT EVENING McKenna was actually in the mood for a date—even a blind one—as she walked into Northern Lights restaurant. She was still floating on air from the excitement of her purchase earlier that afternoon, although she hadn’t had much time to look the place over after signing all the papers.

She couldn’t wait to take her horse out and ride her property.

Northern Lights restaurant had been opened just before Christmas by McKenna’s friend Laci Cavanaugh and her fiancé Bridger Duvall. It was the place to eat in Whitehorse. The fact that her date had chosen it gave McKenna hope.

She was instantly disappointed, though, when she was told by a young waitress she didn’t know that Laci wasn’t working tonight and that Bridger was swamped back in the kitchen.

“Are you dining alone?” the waitress asked.

She certainly hoped not. As she glanced around the restaurant, she spotted a lone male sitting off in one corner. He raised his head and got to his feet when he saw her.

He was the good-looking cowboy who’d bid against her at the auction earlier that day. Just her luck. And his.

“Small world, huh?” he said with an ironic smile.

This was her date? She remembered the way he’d tipped his hat to her when he quit bidding. She was pretty sure that had been anger she’d seen in his dark eyes.

“You look like you could use a drink. I know I could.” He motioned to the waitress before turning back to McKenna. “What’ll you have? Hell, you probably want champagne to celebrate, don’t you? Give us a bottle of your best.”

The waitress took off before McKenna could stop her. The last thing she wanted to do was have dinner with this man, let alone celebrate with him.

He held out his hand. “Flynn Garrett.”

His hand swallowed hers. “McKenna—”

“Bailey,” he finished for her. “Yeah, I know.” His smile broadened as he seemed to take her in. “The woman who bought herself a house and forty acres today. No hard feelings. You won fair and square. So let’s celebrate.”

He pulled out a chair for her and waited.

She tried to think of a good reason to break the date, but then the champagne arrived and she found herself taking a seat as the cork was popped and Flynn made a show of pouring them each a glass.

“To you, Miss Bailey,” he said, tapping his glass against hers.

His dark eyes never left hers as he took a sip. “Hmm, not bad,” he said, although she was almost positive he would have rather had another beer like the one he’d been nursing when she’d arrived.

She tried to relax. Blind dates were nerve-racking enough without her ending up having dinner with the man she’d outbid. A very handsome man, she might add.

“You’re a tough woman to beat at her own game,” he said, his gaze hard to read. She’d put her money on him still being angry. She’d bet he was the kind of man who didn’t like to lose.

“If it makes you feel any better, you drove the bid up so high I have very little money left for improvements.”

He appeared shocked. “You aren’t considering doing anything with that house?”

“Yes. Why?” She watched the way he nervously took a drink of his champagne. “What had you planned to do with it?”

“Burn it down.”

Now it was her turn to be shocked. “You aren’t serious.”

“I just wanted the land. The house is in such bad shape…” He frowned. “Sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to hear that.”

“It needs work, I’ll admit, but structurally—”

“You planning to do the work yourself?”

She bristled. “I’ll have you know I’m capable of doing just about anything I set my mind to.”

He nodded slowly, eyeing her with an intensity that made her a little nervous. “I bet you are.”

The waitress brought the menus and he disappeared behind his. McKenna told herself that he was still angry with her for outbidding him and that he wouldn’t have bid so high if he hadn’t wanted the house as well as the land. What he said about the condition of the house was just sour grapes.

“How are the steaks here?” he asked over the top of his menu. His eyes were almost black. “You look like a woman who could handle a steak.” He put down his menu as the waitress appeared and grinned at McKenna. “Am I wrong?”

She ordered a rib eye, rare, which made him chuckle. He ordered the largest T-bone the restaurant served, also rare.

“So tell me about McKenna Bailey,” he said, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table, those dark eyes intent on her again.

“And bore you to tears?”

He shook his head. “There is nothing boring about you, and we both know it. Why Whitehorse? Come on, I really want to know.”

“I was born and raised here.”

His eyebrow shot up. “No kidding.”

“Well, that’s somewhat true,” she amended with a smile. “I was adopted when I was born. My adopted family lives in Old Town Whitehorse. That’s where I grew up.”