The Double Heart Ranch. Leanna Wilson
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disappointment and made Elise’s insides clench with understanding. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch this stranger, to reassure him, to soothe his troubled brow. This wasn’t any of her business. Why did she always get too involved?
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “Haley’s the best. She never gives me any trouble. But I know she’s not happy.” He ducked his head, as if ashamed of his confession.
Elise recognized despair when she saw it. She’d lived with it as a child. She’d learned to cope and face each day with a bright outlook, because she only had herself to rely on. To survive she had had to ignore the weak emotions of disappointment and overcome rejection and pain. If she hadn’t thought something better was always around the corner, then she never would have survived puberty. “How do you know she’s unhappy?”
“She told me.” He gave a slight shrug, making his chambray shirt pull tight across his well-muscled chest. “Not in so many words. But well…she wants a ‘happily ever after.”’ He looked at her then, the blue of his eyes darkening with sorrow and regret. “You know, like in fairy tales. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that doesn’t happen in real life.”
Elise understood Cole then—the hope he’d once had and the heartbreaking reality he’d experienced. Much like her own. She suspected he had a soft, compassionate heart beating beneath that rock-hard exterior. At least where his daughter was concerned. “So, you’re going to give her as close a version as you can?”
“I’m going to try my damnedest.”
The conviction in his voice made her believe him. Her heart clenched into a tight knot as she met his determined gaze. His firm, square jaw told her he could do anything he set his mind to. For some crazy reason she wanted to help him. Uneasy with her attraction to the rugged rancher with the soulful eyes, she tapped her finger on his pad of paper. “Then you’ll need a damn good ad. Maybe we should start with what paper you were thinking of advertising in? Desert Springs?”
“Not a smart move. I need a more populated place.” He lowered his voice as if Chuck might overhear in the kitchen. “Where folks don’t know me.” He shook his head. “Not because I’m embarrassed or worried about what they might think. I simply want the marriage to look real. If folks here learn the truth, then it will only be a matter of time before Haley figures out it’s all a charade.”
An emotion Elise hadn’t felt in far too long tightened her chest. This man would do anything for his daughter. His sweet tenderness touched her in a way no one had in years. “That seems wise. So maybe you should advertise in Dallas or Houston.”
“Both, probably.”
“Okay.” She reached for his pad of paper and pen. “What kind of a wife are you looking for?”
His brow furrowed, pulling his dark eyebrows together. “Well…someone who likes kids. Obviously.” He clasped his hands together, tapped his thumbs nervously. “Someone who’s kind, sincere. Who’d be content to live on a ranch. A down-to-earth woman, who’s not caught up in fashion or getting her nails done every week.” His gaze locked on Elise’s and made her swallow hard with anticipation. “A woman who wants to be a part of a family.”
His answer struck a vulnerable nerve in Elise, and she felt the resonating pain all the way through her soul. Her heart pumped as if it might burst loose from the confines of her chest. He hadn’t said “pretty, able to do backbreaking work and a good cook.” He was offering a family. What she’d always wanted.
Trying to concentrate, paraphrasing his words, she scribbled notes on the page. The letters blurred as hot, aching tears pressed against the backs of her eyes. Ashamed of her weakness, she blinked them away as she had so often in her life and clenched the pen tightly.
Pushing back a glimmer of hope, she managed to ask, “Anything else?”
He nodded. “Someone who can make a commitment and stick with it.”
She wondered if he were looking for the impossible. She’d learned long ago that promises were meant to be broken. At least by others. When she’d wrestled her turbulent emotions under control, she looked up at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “And what do you have to offer this make-believe marriage?”
This time he sat back against the seat. “What?”
“You want some woman to move out here and live with you as man and wife, tend to your child, and I assume do her wifely duties like cooking and cleaning and…” Heat stung her cheeks and she glanced away, unable to meet his intense gaze.
A palpable pause thrummed between them. Elise toyed with her pen, turning it over and over between her numb fingers. Why had she gotten involved with this man’s problem? Why did he make her yearn for something she’d long ago given up on?
She didn’t care if he found a wife or what he and this new wife would or would not do in an intimate setting. Good grief! What had gotten into her?
“Look,” she said, breaking the silence, “you have to bring something to the table, something of value. Why would a woman who doesn’t know or love you want to marry you? What are you offering?”
He ran his fingers through his hair, making dark brown tufts stand on end. The lines around his eyes and those bracketing his mouth deepened with tension. “I hadn’t really thought in those terms.” He rocked forward, then back. “But you’re right. She ought to know what she’s getting. I’m no lottery ticket. No real prize. At least that’s what my ex-wife said.”
She’d almost expected him to start cataloging his selling points. Rusty certainly would have. But she was beginning to realize that Cole Dalton wasn’t like the showboat she’d followed out west.
After a slow, thoughtful breath, Cole stated, “I’m offering a home. A family.” His mouth compressed into a firm, thin line. “I make a decent living. Nothing fancy. But I can provide for a wife and my child. I’m honest. Faithful. And loyal.” He gave a sputtering laugh. “Jeez, I sound like a hound dog for sale.”
She smiled at his analogy. He was anything but. And much, much more. Her pulse skittered at the thought of the possibilities. More anxious to hear his response to her next question than she cared to admit, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Do you want more kids?”
He blew out a pent-up breath. “You ask tough questions. Are you sure you didn’t take a class at the Barbara Walter’s school of journalism?”
She chuckled. “I’m sure.”
He turned his attention to the sun-splattered window that looked out onto the main thoroughfare that bisected Desert Springs. In the distance, a car horn blared. A furry dog pranced past, hunting for a scrap of food or his owner.
Elise watched Cole—the sternness of his profile, the decisive way his nose slanted toward his chin, the hard curve of his determined jaw.
Finally, his lips thinned, and he spoke. “I used to want a whole passel of kids. I was raised in the house where I live now. It’s a rambling old place. Been on our land for four generations.” He rubbed his palms together, and then clasped his hands, folding his long fingers, making Elise remember his gentle yet firm touch earlier. A warmth spread through her limbs, and she had a hard time concentrating on his next words. “I was an only child. It was a lonely existence.”
It sounded heavenly to Elise. She imagined the total adoration of two parents being focused on one child—her. The air in her lungs compressed.
“My folks wanted more kids, but were never able to have any more. I always wanted to give them plenty of grandkids, to fill up all the bedrooms in the house. Hear the laughter…”
“The shrieks. The arguments,” Elise added, remembering what it was like to grow up in an orphanage with at least twelve kids to a room. She’d always dreamed of a peaceful home, some place quiet and calm. She’d imagined a town much like Desert Springs where not much happened but where plenty of folks cared about each other, a place she could be