One Bride for Four Ranchers

“Thank you,” I say, honestly. It feels nice for someone other than my doctor to know, and her radiant smile makes me happy. Then a twinge of guilt pricks me. I need to tell Clay, and soon. The man deserves to know he’s going to be a father—whether he wants to be one or not.

I step out into the sunlight, and close my eyes. The heat feels amazing on my skin, and the fresh air clears my head.

It’ll be his choice, of course, if he wants to be involved. But after getting to know him better, getting to know his family...it’ll be tough to go back to being strangers to the Hollisters. Especially with a tiny connection to them reminding me daily of the brothers.

My chest tightens at the thought, but I take a deep breath of the fresh Wyoming air and push it aside. No use worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet.

I wander through the town with my notebook under my arm. The drugstore Clay brought me to proves to be on the edge of Main Street. The street is pretty, and exactly what I’d picture for a quaint, western, small town. Clean stre

ets and older, yet well-maintained buildings, with pretty flowers planted down the median and next to the sidewalks. Small metal tables and benches, shaded by huge umbrellas next to the sidewalk every so often. A couple are even occupied by families eating hot dogs.

I can see why the Hollisters—who could live anywhere—still call this part of the world home.

It’s a perfect place to wander through and chat with people. To my surprise, while everyone seems polite and willing to talk with me for a few moments, only a little more than half—by my estimation—are actually for the new green projects they’re doing out at the Hollister Ranch.

“You need to talk to Jed Burke about the crap they’re pulling out there at the Lazy H,” one elderly gentleman advises me, shaking his finger in my general direction. “He’ll tell you all you need to know, little lady.”

I frown. The older man in front of me, Jake, according to his hardware store name tag, isn’t the first to mention Jed Burke.

“You don’t happen to know where I might be able to find Mr. Burke, would you?” I say, sweetly.

“Well I can’t say where he is right this minute, but he goes to his sister’s café every day for lunch. It’s nearly noon now, so you should be able to catch him there.” Jake shakes his head. “It’s terrible, what the Hollisters have done to Jed.”

“Thank you so much,” I say, forcing myself to simper just a little bit. “You wouldn’t happen to be able to tell me where the café is, would you?

His chest puffs out at my simpering, but his tone is still dripping with irritation. “Amber’s Café, course,” he says, pointing the opposite direction that I’d come from. “You can find it a couple blocks down, cross the street.”

“Thanks so much,” I say, then wave at the man and start walking that direction as quickly as I can without looking like I’m trying to get away.

His directions prove true, and two blocks and one street crossing later I find myself at Amber’s Café. I slip inside, to find a cute little restaurant. There’s an old counter that reminds me of pictures of Woolworths. Inside are several tables, none save a couple large booths in the back designed to hold more than four people. There’s a lone woman at the breakfast bar, and two of the tables are full. By my estimation, with all ten of us in there, the café is nearing half capacity.

A pretty woman, probably in her late thirties exits from behind the counter and approaches me with a professional smile on her face. She has an aquiline nose but a jawline and prominent features to balance it out, with long blonde hair in a tight ponytail. Striking, and very attractive. She’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt tucked in, and there is short apron around her waist. She wears a name tag that reads Amber. She must be the Amber whose name is on the door.

“Hi there, just one?” She glances behind me as if expecting others to follow me in.

“Yup. Just me.”

“Do you mind sitting at the counter?” She gestures to the nearly empty counter behind her.

“Not at all.” I head to the counter as she walks behind it. She pulls a pencil from behind her ear and a tiny notepad from her apron. “What can I get you?”

“Just an iced tea,” I say. “And I am actually looking for someone. Jed Burke?”

Amber’s expression brightens. “Oh, you know my brother? I thought he would have mentioned a pretty thing like you.”

I smile back. “He doesn’t know me. Not yet. I’m a journalist working on a story that I’d like his input on.”

She bends over her side of the counter and rests her eyes on me. “Now what in tarnation could Jed have done to drag in some big-city reporter?”

I try not to grimace. And here I thought my disguise—jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt—had kept the fact that I was some city slicker a little bit more secret. “I’m just here to talk to him about the Lazy H. I’ve heard he has some strong feelings about the environmentally-motivated changes the Hollisters are making up there. Thought I should get his opinion for the article I’m writing this week.”

Amber stands back up and crosses her arms, disapproval oozing from her every pore. “So, you’re here about the Hollister brothers.”

“I am. I’m writing a piece for my magazine.” I sit up straighter on the stool.

“Then you’re not friends of them boys?” she asks, gaze penetrating. I have a strong feeling my answer will determine if warns her brother to run the second he comes through the door.

I can’t help but bristle at her tone. It’s obvious she isn’t a big fan of the Hollisters. But who am I to get defensive about them? I’m certainly no one to them—even to Clay. Besides, it makes no sense to piss her off before I have a chance to talk to her brother.