The Mcclintock Proposal. Carol Ericson
back from the table, Rod tossed several dollars on the table. Callie scooped them up and counted out the eight dollars.
“Not enough?” Rod reached for his wallet.
“No. Very generous, considering we got our own food. I’m trying to keep track of how much I owe you, once I get my hands on some money.”
“Don’t worry about it. We’re husband and wife, remember?”
She sucked in her lower lip and sighed. “I’m going to have to hit you up once more. I want to get out of this dress. Not taking a shower or brushing my teeth for twenty-four hours is bad enough.”
He plucked some bills out of his wallet. “Buy yourself some clothes, a couple of toothbrushes and some toothpaste, and I’ll roam the hotel hallways and filch some soap from a maid’s cart. We’ll clean up in one of the bathrooms before we take off.”
A half-hour later—armed with two bars of soap and two towels tucked under his arm—Rod met Callie outside the shop where she’d bought her shoes. She handed him a toothbrush after squeezing some toothpaste onto the bristles, and he headed for the men’s room. After he brushed his teeth and washed his face and neck, he hung the hotel towel over one of the stalls in the bathroom.
He caught his breath when Callie emerged from the ladies’ room, her blond hair pulled back into a silky mane. The blue, flowered skirt brushed her slim calves, and the blue top matched the color of her eyes.
She looked pretty in the wedding dress, but it belonged to another time, another life.
The valet delivered his truck, and Rod pulled forward, idling at the end of the hotel driveway. “Okay, where to? Do you need to go straight to the ranch?”
“No.” She tossed the wedding dress into the backseat. “I need to see my grandfather’s attorney first.”
“It’s still Sunday. His office won’t be open.” Rod pulled out the GPS and secured it to the windshield. “And by the time we roll into Wyoming, it’ll be close to ten o’clock at night.”
She tilted her head, her ponytail slipping over her shoulder. “My grandfather’s attorney isn’t in Wyoming.”
“I figured his attorney would be near the ranch.” His fingers hovered over the GPS screen.
“It is, but the ranch isn’t in Wyoming.”
“You said he built a house on his ranch in Wyoming.”
“Oh that. In all the excitement and prewedding jitters, I forgot to mention that he sold that original ranch and bought another one…in Colorado.”
A prickling sensation attacked the back of his neck, and Rod rubbed it. “Colorado?”
“The ranch is in Colorado, and my grandfather’s attorney is in Durango. So you see, we don’t have that far to go. But you’re right, his office will be closed on Sunday. So I guess it’s to the ranch first. Un-unless you want to go to your home.”
“Where is your ranch in Colorado?”
“It’s outside of Durango in a former mining town, Silverhill.”
Swallowing, Rod gripped the steering wheel with both hands, a low roar building in his ears. “Does the ranch have a name?”
“Yeah, the irony of it hit me on the road. You know how we were in Truth or Consequences?”
Rod nodded, his throat too tight to speak.
“Grandfather Ennis named his ranch Price Is Right. Isn’t that a coincidence? Another game show? Maybe it was a sign.”
“Price?”
“My last name.” She snorted. “I know we didn’t formally introduce ourselves but I’m, or rather I was, Callie Price.”
The roar in his ears cascaded in a thunderous roll. Callie Price. Ennis Price, the eccentric old man who owned Price Is Right. The ranch right next to his own.
The ranch he just acquired by marrying old man Price’s granddaughter.
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