Wyatt's Most Wanted Wife. Sandra Steffen
written all over her face.
“Would you give Luke up if I asked you to?”
Jillian had the grace to pretend to think about it before letting loose a smile bright enough to light up the room. “Not on your life, sister.”
Lisa laughed and Jillian grinned then slipped through the screen door. Feeling better than she had all morning, Lisa checked the stove, grabbed her purse and raincoat, and followed. She was in the process of pulling the front door shut behind her when Jillian’s voice rang out from several feet away.
“Where did you park the car last night?”
Lisa walked forward, down the steps and across the sidewalk. She didn’t stop until she reached the exact spot in the driveway where she’d left her car the previous night. Except for a few shallow puddles, the driveway was empty. “I parked it right here where I always do.”
“That’s what I thought. It’s gone. Somebody must have taken it.”
Lisa turned in a circle. “I’ll be danged.”
“What are you doing to do?” Jillian asked.
Gauging the clouds hanging low in the sky, Lisa said, “I’m not sure, but if my new clothing store is going to be a success, I need my car to pick up the new fall merchandise in Pierre this afternoon. For now, it looks like we’re walking to work.”
Spinning around, she went inside for an umbrella.
“Oooo-eee. It’s really coming down out there.”
Wyatt glanced up in time to see Luke Carson close the door behind him and shake the water from his black Stetson. With a jauntiness one rarely associated with a Carson, he called, “Hey, Wyatt, do you have any more of that coffee?”
Wyatt scribbled something on a notepad, then shoved the traffic ticket he’d issued last night into a folder, wondering when his office had turned into one of those coffeehouses they had in the city. Oblivious to his friend’s dark mood, Luke whisked a chair away from the wall and straddled it. Crossing his arms along the top, he grinned inanely at nobody in particular.
Wyatt glanced at the other Carson brother, who was slouched in stony silence in the chair next to the desk. Meeting Wyatt’s gaze, Clayt shook his head and spoke for the first time in fifteen minutes. “He’s been like this ever since Jillian agreed to marry him two days ago.”
“Been like what?” Luke asked with entirely too much wonder in his voice.
Clayt didn’t have to speak. The sardonic lift of his eye-brows and the tilt of his head said it all.
Wyatt pushed his chair away from his desk and strode to the filing cabinet, where he sloshed coffee into three cups, wondering what it would take to get a little privacy around here. People claimed misery loved company, but he would have preferred to sulk alone. That was next to impossible in Jasper Gulch. He should know. He’d tried it last night. He really had had every intention of nursing his sore ego in his own quiet corner in the diner. But when he’d gotten back to his table, his corner hadn’t been quiet anymore. He’d taken one look at the area ranchers and cowboys he’d grown up with and had hightailed it over to the Crazy Horse Saloon. Glancing at the two men taking up space in his small office right now, he realized he wasn’t having much better luck this morning.
“Ah,” Luke said, after taking his first sip of coffee. “Thick as tar. Just the way I like it.”
Clayt slunk lower in his chair and shook his head all over again. Wyatt almost grinned for the first time since yesterday.
Luke and Clayt Carson were a year apart in age and shared a passing family resemblance that included dark hair, gray eyes and tanned skin pulled taut over high cheekbones and angular chins. Their tall, lanky builds had come from the same gene pool, but the good mood Luke was in today didn’t run in the family.
Wyatt knew both of these men like the backs of his hands. He’d been there when Clayt had gotten married ten years ago. He’d been there when his wife had left him two years later, too. Wyatt was the first person Luke had told about his decision to become a vet instead of a partner on the family ranch. Technically, only Luke and Clayt were blood related, but Wyatt had been in and out of the Carson house so often while he was growing up he might as well have been a third brother, blond hair, brown eyes and all.
“So,” Luke said cheerfully. “What’s new?”
Clayt slanted Wyatt a meaningful look. “I liked him a lot better when he was ornery, didn’t you?”
Luke laughed. “Come on, you two. I’m going to marry the most beautiful woman in Jasper Gulch. You should be happy for me. Who knows, maybe one of you will get lucky one of these days.”
The outer door opened noisily. Before Wyatt and Clayt had the opportunity to offer to wipe the grin off Luke’s face, Cletus McCully closed the door and ambled closer.
Staring at the water running off his grandfather’s hat and the footprints on the floor, Wyatt said, “Granddad, you’re dripping wet. Where have you been?”
Cletus hung his hat on a peg near the door and straightened as much as his stoop-shouldered frame would allow. “What do you mean where have I been? Just because I’m seventy-nine years old don’t mean I ain’t got things to do. Mmm. Is that coffee I smell?”
Wyatt tried to count to ten. At seven, he shoved his chair back, strode to the filing cabinet and drained the last of the thick brew from the pot. As usual, his show of temper was lost on his grandfather.
Cletus slurped his coffee then slapped Luke on the back. “I haven’t had a chance to congratulate you proper yet. I talked to your future bride last night. Said she and Lisa and Mel are goin’ into Pierre to look at weddin’ dresses this weekend. That’s good. Real good. Means plans are movin’ along. So, Luke, who’re you gonna ask to be your best man?”
Luke glanced up. “Gee, Cletus, I don’t rightly know. Clayt or Wyatt, I guess.”
Wyatt’s mouth dropped open. Had he just heard Luke say he didn’t rightly know? For crying out loud, it was enough to turn a grown man’s stomach. Gritting his teeth and crossing his arms, he looked at Clayt and said, “He’s your brother.”
Clayt shook his head. “He’s your best friend.”
With a snap of one suspender, old Cletus said, “Looks like there’s only one way to settle this. Okay with you, Luke, if the boys flip for it fair and square?”
Wyatt didn’t care who ended up acting as Luke’s best man. He was too busy trying to figure out why a woman who claimed she would go out with every man who asked had told him that going to dinner wouldn’t be a good idea. He wasn’t so arrogant as to expect every woman to fall at his feet. He could take no for an answer. But Lisa hadn’t told him no. What the hell did she mean going out with him wouldn’t be a good idea? Wyatt happened to believe it was the best idea he’d had in years.
Cletus was still talking when Wyatt came out of his musings. “As best man, you’ll be expected to hook up with the maid of honor. And Jillian asked Lisa Markman to be her maid of honor, ain’t that right, Luke?”
Lisa?
Wyatt jerked to attention. “Heads!” he called.
“Tails!” Clayt said at the same time.
Cletus mumbled something about having to do everything himself then flipped the quarter into the air. He caught it easily enough then slapped it against his forearm. Raising his hand slightly, a grin stole across his wrinkled face. “Wyatt, it looks like you’re guaranteed at least one weddin’ dance with Jillian’s dark-haired maid of honor, and maybe a little time alone with her at the barbecue you boys are havin’ the first Saturday in September. Oooo-eee, that woman’s built for comfort, ain’t she?”
Wyatt’s mind eased into overdrive. Turning Lisa Markman into his arms for