Falling For Fortune. Nancy Robards Thompson
indeed, the man was an impressive hunk of masculinity even with sunglasses covering his eyes.
While the set of those shoulders and confident stance said “don’t mess with me,” messing with him was just what Shannon longed to do. Until she saw two little legs dangling from the blanketed bundle he’d pulled from the car.
Rachel expelled a heavy sigh, apparently seeing the evidence of daddy-hood, as well. “He’s got a kid.”
Her friend sounded as disappointed as Shannon felt.
“Figures he’d be taken.” Shannon heaved her own sigh. “The cute ones always are.”
“Marriage doesn’t stop some of them from sniffing around.”
“My old boss Jerry was a perfect example of that.” Even as she spoke, Shannon’s gaze returned to the dark-haired stranger.
“You taught Jerry the Jerk not to mess with you.”
Shannon just smiled and shrugged. Lately she’d begun to wonder if there was a way she could have handled the situation differently and kept her job.
Water under a collapsed bridge.
The man shut the door firmly, then stepped away, giving Shannon a glimpse of a furry head with perked-up ears, little paws braced on the dash. She couldn’t stop a smile. She loved animals almost as much as she loved children. “He’s got a dog, too.”
Rachel looked up from the text she’d glanced down to read. Apparently discovering the stranger had a kid had turned her initial interest to indifference.
“The hot guy has a kid and a dog,” Shannon told her friend.
“Bet you five he also has a wife with blond hair and a killer figure.” Rachel’s tone turned philosophical. “That’s practically a given with guys like him.”
Shannon grinned. “Aren’t you the cynical one?”
“Realist.” Rachel popped a bite of scone into her mouth. “I should have known he was too good to be single.”
Shannon rolled her eyes.
“He’s coming inside,” Rachel hissed.
Shannon turned in her chair just as the automatic doors of the Superette slid open.
Francine, the store’s lone cashier, was in the back of the store stocking shelves. Since they were the only customers, Frannie had told them to holler if someone showed and was ready to check out.
The man paused just inside the entrance and removed his sunglasses. He glanced at the empty checkout counter, impatience wrapped around him like a too-tight jacket. Shannon expected any second he’d start tapping his foot.
Shannon pulled to her feet and crossed to him, wishing she was wearing something—anything—besides jeans and a faded Texas Tech T-shirt. “May I help you?”
The man was silent for a second, staring at her. His eyes were a cool blue with a darker rim. Shannon forced herself to hold that piercing gaze.
“I find myself in need of some assistance,” he said after a couple of seconds, his smile surprisingly warm and charming. “My GPS has gone bonkers. I’m looking for a ranch called the Broken R.”
In addition to the killer smile, the man had a totally de-lish British accent. Shannon surreptitiously slanted a glance down but his ring finger was hidden beneath the blankets.
“Are you a relative?” Though Shannon didn’t like to pry, Rachel would kill her if she didn’t get at least one or two deets.
“I’m Jensen’s brother.” He adjusted his stance as the child beneath the blanket stirred. “Are you familiar with the location?”
Shannon couldn’t tell if the toddler was a boy or girl. The shoes were gray leather sneakers that could belong to either sex. The only thing she could see above the blanket was a thatch of slightly wavy brown hair.
“It’s super easy to find.” Shannon quickly gave him directions. She offered to write them down, but he told her there was no need.
“Thank you.” He smiled again and his whole face relaxed. “You’ve been very kind.”
Though she wanted to volunteer to ride with him and show him the way, Shannon resisted the temptation. Married men were not on her radar.
Still, she remained where she was and watched him stroll to the car. Once he reached the vehicle, she scurried over to where Rachel waited.
“Ohmigod.” Rachel’s eyes sparkled. “His accent is incredible.”
“The rest of him is pretty incredible too.” Shannon surreptitiously watched Jensen Fortune Chesterfield’s hot brother buckle the child into the seat. The blanket around the toddler fell to the concrete but was quickly scooped up.
“He’s definitely a boy,” she told her friend.
“You’re wrong.” Rachel chuckled. “That one is all man.”
“Not him. The kid. I couldn’t tell initially boy or girl, but he’s wearing a Thomas the Tank Engine shirt. Definitely a boy.”
“Who cares about the child?” Rachel fluttered her long lashes. “Did you hear that fantabulous British accent?”
“You said that before.”
“It bears repeating.”
The sleek black sedan backed up and headed out of the lot, careful to avoid the asphalt crater.
“It doesn’t matter.” Shannon sighed and turned her attention back to her scone. “Like you said, a guy that gorgeous has a beautiful wife somewhere.”
* * *
Oliver Fortune Hayes once had a beautiful wife. Then he’d had a beautiful ex-wife. Now, the stunningly beautiful blonde was gone.
“Diane was killed in a car accident two months ago,” Oliver told his brother Jensen. He kept his tone matter-of-fact, tamping down any emotion. “She was in the car with a man she’d been seeing for quite some time. He also died in the crash.”
The two men sat in Jensen’s kitchen, having a cup of tea. Thanks to the concise directions from the pretty brunette at the grocery shop, Oliver had easily found the Broken R ranch. Jensen had been surprised to see him a full twenty-four hours earlier than expected and apologetic that Amber was in Lubbock shopping.
Oliver looked forward to meeting his brother’s fiancée but appreciated the opportunity to talk privately first.
Jensen hadn’t changed much since Oliver had last seen him. His brother’s dark hair was perhaps a trifle longer but he was still the very proper British gentleman that Oliver remembered. Though the cowboy boots were a shock, Jensen’s gray trousers were perfectly creased, and his white dress shirt startlingly white.
“This is the first I’ve heard of Diane’s death. Why didn’t you call?” Jensen was his half brother from the second marriage of Oliver’s mother. Though seven years separated them in age, Oliver had always been fond of Jensen.
When Oliver had announced his intention to come to Horseback Hollow after their sister, Amelia, gave birth, Jensen had offered to let him stay at his ranch.
“My life has been topsy-turvy since the moment I found out.” He’d discovered Diane had died at a cocktail party when a mutual friend had expressed sympathy.
“I bet.”
Oliver continued as if Jensen hadn’t spoken. “Diane’s parents didn’t notify me. They took Ollie into their home even though they knew full custody immediately reverted to me upon her death. They kept my son from me.”
Jensen flinched at the underlying anger in his brother’s carefully controlled tone. “I’m surprised they didn’t put up a fight once you found out and arrived