One Wild Cowboy and A Cowboy To Marry: One Wild Cowboy / A Cowboy to Marry

“So it’s true?” her mom interrupted, with furrowed brow. “You do have a date with Dylan this evening?”

Talk about putting her on the spot! “In a manner of speaking...” Emily cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I know you mean well, but I really don’t need any help finding a man to hang out with. So I’d rather not hear any suggestions on who I should be seeing. And I certainly don’t want to be fixed up on any dates by anyone in the family!”

Finished, Emily braced herself for the emotional argument sure to come. Instead, to her utter amazement, her mother completely backed off. “You’re right,” Greta murmured, looking at Shane for verification, as if wanting to make sure they were on the same page.

Shane locked eyes with Greta. Something passed between them. “It would be a mistake for us to try to matchmake at this point,” Emily’s father concluded finally.

Well, that was easy, Emily thought with relief. Astoundingly...almost suspiciously...so.

“We came in to tell you that the opening ceremony is about to start,” Greta said.

“I’ll be right there,” Emily promised. “I just need to get a few trays of chocolate and lemon-meringue pies.”

“We’ll all help,” her dad said.

Five minutes later, the pies were set out on the buffet tables. Shane and Greta—the charity event’s hosts—were stepping up to the microphones. They spoke about the Libertyville Boys Ranch, and how much the facility helped juvenile delinquents turn their lives around.

“The institution has been so successful, they are expanding again. The problem is, they need more therapy horses for the kids to care for. So,” Shane said, “I’ve made arrangements with the Bureau of Land Management to purchase three wild mustangs for training. Dylan Reeves—the renowned horse whisperer in the area—is going to be doing the schooling.” Wild applause erupted. “When they are ready, the horses will go to the boys ranch, where they will be adopted into a very good home....”

Incredibly impressed, Emily made her way through the crowd to Dylan’s side. In shock, she murmured, “I had no idea you were a philanthropist.”

Was it possible the two of them had more in common than they knew?

Not surprisingly, Dylan looked irritated by her compliment. “Don’t view me as some sort of saint. I’m not,” he muttered gruffly, and then for good measure, added, “I’m being paid.”

“Just not your normal rate,” Emily guessed.

Dylan scowled. “It’s a challenge,” he said flatly. “I like working with mustangs. I like the fact the horses will find a good, loving home at the boys ranch.” He regarded her, all tough lonesome cowboy. “Don’t make more of it than that.”

* * *

HOURS LATER, EMILY turned to Simone, as the after-event cleanup commenced. Emily followed Simone’s gaze to where her son, Andrew, stood talking with that same group of boys.

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” The kids were from a neighboring town and looked like bad news.

Simone stacked serving platters onto a wheeled cart.

“I have a feeling he’s going to ask me if he can go out past his curfew tonight.”

“If it’s not a good idea,” Emily counseled, “you have every right to say no.”

“I know that,” Simone sighed. “It just seems like that’s all I say these days.”

The group of kids were edging toward a late-model pickup truck with extra lights mounted across the top. They seemed to be encouraging Andrew to ditch the cleanup, forgo getting permission and just take off.

Emily touched Simone’s arm. “Why don’t you go on?”

Simone’s posture relaxed with relief. “Thanks. I’ll make it up to you.”

“No problem.”

Emily cast a glance at Dylan, who was busy helping a group of ranchers disassemble the bandstand. Her brothers were off with her dad, in another direction, taking down the strings of banners and colored lights.

Pleased the event had turned out so well, she finished loading up her cart and wheeled it in the direction of the café.

No sooner had she gotten inside than a light rap sounded on the door. Xavier Shillingsworth stepped in, all young bravura. “I was thinking...the two of us should go out on a date.”

Emily did not like hurting anyone’s feelings. Still, this was ludicrous and she had to make her would-be suitor realize it. “How old are you?” she asked gently.

“Nineteen.” Xavier slicked back his hair with his free hand. “But that shouldn’t matter.”

She arched a brow. Was he talking down to her?

“You can’t be that old.”

“I’m twenty-eight,” Emily said drily. “That’s nine years older than you. It’s a big difference.”

Xavier shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me. I’ve always wanted to go out with a cougar. And you’re hot!”

Was he serious? Apparently so.

Emily went back to loading dishes in the machine. “I’m curious. You are obviously a smart guy with a lot going for him. Why aren’t you in college?”

Xavier seemed flattered by the attention. “I didn’t want to go. So my dad bought me a franchise restaurant to run instead.”

Of course. Can’t solve a problem so throw money at it instead. And while you’re at it, get the problem kid out of the picture, too.

Emily smiled with encouragement. “You both may want to rethink that. College can be a fun, exciting time...with lots of girls your own age who are dying to go out on dates.”

“I don’t want a girl. I want you!”

Emily sighed and walked toward the exit. “Well, it’s not going to happen.”

“See?” Xavier caught up with her as she reached the dining room. He clamped his arms around her and crowded her all the more. “That’s what I like about you. You’re a real spitfire.”

Not about to let him so much as try to kiss her, Emily stomped on his toe with all her might. “And you’re a real horse’s rear end,” she spat out.

“Ouch!” Xavier hopped up and down in pain.

The door to the café opened and Dylan strode in. It took him all of two seconds to size up the situation. “Allow me.” He grabbed Xavier by the back of his Cowtown Diner T-shirt and escorted him to the door.

Dylan let him go just inside the portal. “If you ever touch her again, you’re going to have to deal with me.”

“On what grounds?” Xavier straightened his shirt. He regarded Dylan pugnaciously, clearly spoiling for a fistfight.

She was afraid there just might be one if the kid didn’t cut it out.

“I don’t see an engagement ring!”