Despite the host of fireflies dancing circles in her stomach, Mandy felt her lips twitch. She strove to maintain a solemn expression. Not precisely?
Adam’s ad had been for a mail-order bride.
Not precisely, indeed.
Looking at Adam now, Mandy realized he didn’t look much like a banker anymore. He looked more like a rancher. As soon as he walked in, she’d noticed how he’d taken to wearing his new black Stetson pulled low over his eyes, a little detail that produced an unsteady bump in her heartbeat. He also wore a chambray work shirt in a pale dusty shade of blue. It looked soft to the touch. At which point, she imagined plucking the fabric of his sleeve and testing its softness between her thumb and forefinger. He also wore dark denims, chaps, and a pair of brown leather boots layered up with dust from whatever ranch work he’d been doing earlier.
Her mouth went a little dry just looking at him.
“It was the other ad, Gus,” Adam was saying, his manner careful, choosing his words. “Perhaps we can discuss it another time. When you haven’t got company.”
“Company? Miss MacKenna’s not ‘company,’” Gus said. “And I’m sorry to say I don’t know of any other ad.”
“I see.” Adam’s gaze pierced through Mandy, and she held back a little shiver. Oh, those eyes of his. They saw so much. Maybe too much? It was really quite thrilling to be looked at so thoroughly. If only it weren’t in these circumstances, for he looked quite suspicious.
And he deserved some sort of answer to his question, Mandy thought with a twinge of guilt.
“Would you like to place a new ad now?” Gus asked. “I have a form.”
“No, I wouldn’t.” Adam turned his Stetson in his hands. “It was a mistake. A misunderstanding, you might say.”
A mistake?
Mandy lifted her head slightly. Had she heard him right?
“Well, then...” Gus stood, paperwork in hand, and skirted the edge of his desk by stepping sideways around it. Clearly having decided his interview with Adam was over, he proceeded around the room in this familiar manner, edging past the printing press and filing cabinets, each filled with letters to the paper, articles, clippings, and such. Finally, he made his way around to Mandy and added a stack of papers to her “to be sorted” pile.
It was a ruse they’d worked out when she’d arrived with her question this afternoon. This way, they could work while Gus pondered Mandy’s dilemma. Should anyone walk in—why, Mandy was obviously helping the editor with some filing. A perfectly respectable occupation, if a little odd for the daughter of a wealthy rancher.
Mandy also suspected Gus didn’t particularly like filing.
At any rate, with the length of the office between her and Gus, there was no impropriety to complain of, especially since they were in full view of a big square nine-paned window, should any passersby on the boardwalk wish to press their noses up against the clouded glass.
With Gus next to her, Mandy felt suddenly taller than usual. She’d worn her town boots for the occasion, which had a higher heel than she normally wore. From this vantage point, she could see the top of the editor’s head. She hadn’t noticed before, but he had a little bald circle forming. She wasn’t sure he would know, based on where it was located, so far back from his forehead, and she wondered, briefly, if she should mention it. He might like to know such a thing, after all. Perhaps there was some hair tonic he could begin to apply?
“Miss MacKenna?” Gus asked, giving the papers a pat and looking at her with a questioning lift of his brows. He didn’t smile, not precisely, and there was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, as if he thought she’d detected some defect in him. Perhaps because she was biting her lower lip in indecision?
All while Adam, a subscriber to the paper, was standing there.
She’d embarrass Gus forever if she said anything.
No, she couldn’t say anything that might embarrass him. Besides it not being her place, she’d heard enough of her own shortcomings growing up. Too Tall Mandy MacKenna. Her own mother’s insistence that she not purchase shoes with too high a heel. Mandy knew too well how it felt to not “measure up.” It hurt. And she wouldn’t do that to Gus.
She straightened her posture, while at the same time endeavoring to appear shorter—an impossible feat—and gave Gus a reassuring smile. She in no way wanted this good kind man to think he didn’t measure up in her eyes.
Gus smiled back at her, a hint of relief showing in his eyes.
When Mandy looked up in a businesslike fashion to address Adam again, she found him watching them with a curious expression on his face. He was not only watching them very closely, but there was a decided twinkle in his eyes.
Mandy saw herself and Gus suddenly, as if she too were standing near the door.
How short Gus was.
How impossibly tall she must appear in comparison.
Was Adam laughing at them? At her?
Some small part of her shriveled up inside.
She was too tall.
They did look funny standing side by side. They must.
How could Adam ever see her as attractive or appealing—or feminine? She was Too Tall Mandy MacKenna. And that was never going to change.
The sound of cruel laughter filled her mind.
The snickers behind her back as she walked down the boardwalk of Cross Creek the first time, her skirts too short because poor Mama hadn’t had time to let them down yet. Mandy had had grown during their travels, and she’d been almost unbearably thin. All elbows and knees. All stretched out like salt-water taffy. She’d especially felt like that standing next to her perfectly petite little sisters, girls who grew at a more normal rate and whose skirts hadn’t gotten too short.
Mandy had never lacked a mirror to look in. She knew what she looked like. She knew what the boys had called her behind her back. And to her face. Even today, she wore it like a placard on her back.
All that old noise—and all those old memories—shot through Mandy like stinging arrows.
The newspaper office swam, not enough for her to fall, but enough that she had to place a hand against the shelves. Fortunately, Gus had turned and was making his way back to his desk, so he hadn’t noticed her slight bobble.
To her alarm, however, Adam passed by him and was at her elbow in seconds. “Are you all right, Miss MacKenna?” He lowered his voice. “Mandy?”
Mandy nodded, embarrassed.
He thought she was ill, possibly sickly natured.
“I’m fine,” she said, waving dismissively, suddenly aware of how close he was standing to her.
“You suddenly went a little pale...” There was a questioning note in his voice. He placed his warm hand over hers on the top shelf, as if to steady her with his presence, as if to comfort her.
Protect her.
Her head swam again, but in an entirely different way.
He was so near. He was so tall.
Taller than she was.
Something like a summer heat radiated off of him. Probably from spending so much time in the sun, she told herself, feeling rather dim-witted.
“You’re sure?” he asked quietly, privately, dipping his head closer to hers, so close she could feel his breath against her cheek, or imagined she could anyway.
All sorts of warm tingly sensations swept over her from head to heel. Like a thousand tiny fireflies lighting her up from within. Her cheeks grew flushed and warm, probably flooded with pink. It was the most confusing sensation.
“I’m sure,” she said. She seemed unable to think properly with him near. The same thing had happened when they’d danced together. She often lost the capacity for speech when he greeted her in the aisle on Sundays, or outside on the church lawn.
Gus cleared his throat, and she became aware that she’d been gazing rather intently into Adam’s eyes.
She should look away, look down at her papers.
Look anywhere else.
But she didn’t seem able to. He had little white-gold flecks in his blue eyes. She hadn’t known that. She was lost in a host of confusing thoughts, leading among them: What if Adam didn’t think I was too tall? With him standing so close, she could almost believe it. She saw no trace of amusement in his expression now. In fact, there seemed to be something else. She’d like to think it was male interest—it certainly felt like it—but she feared she was only seeing what she wished to see. Seeing the concern in his eyes.
Her dreams back home were sure to be full of this moment for the next few nights. Weeks. Perhaps months... She’d always wanted to stay home and help Papa manage the ranch. It had been her dream so long it was part of her skin. It had been her dream, but perhaps it wasn’t the right one.
Maybe that was why she’d answered that matrimony ad. Deep inside, she wanted more. She wanted this—what she thought she glimpsed in his eyes. She wanted him. A house. A home. A family. A dog. She wanted everything. To be a wife. A mother. She wanted the satisfaction of working closely on a ranch with him too.
All of it.
She wanted everything.
But what if she could never have it?
What if Adam—her Banks—didn’t want her? Could she blow her feelings out like a candle flame? Extinguish all that light inside her whenever he was near? Her heart ached with loss at the thought of giving up her Banks.
I love him.
Not because he was tall. Or made her heart flutter or stole her capacity for speech. Like now. Well, yes, because of that—to be honest—but also for his letters. She knew him. In between the lines of his letters to Ask Mack, she’d glimpsed an endearing insecurity. But he hadn’t let it stop him. He hadn’t known much about ranching, but he wanted to do a good job. He knew he could fail, but he kept going, pushing past any fears he might have felt. He’d made tough decisions.
Like firing Old Pete.
He hadn’t wanted to. She’d seen his reluctance in his letters, letters she’d answered, but hadn’t published in the paper.
He was a man who fought to succeed and do the right thing. And he was intelligent. He had a head for numbers—that was clear. That wasn’t his trouble in the least. He simply needed someone trustworthy to assist him with all the particulars of ranch life that he hadn’t grown up with. He needed someone he could trust. Someone who had his best interests in mind. Who’d protect him and not go behind his back or mock him for the things he didn’t know.
He needed a good manager.
Or a wife.
Mandy’s thoughts came to a full stop.
He didn’t need a “mail-order bride.” What good would that do him—some city girl who didn’t know anything about Colorado ranching?
He needed her. Mandy. And maybe he’d never realize it if she didn’t put herself forward. Not just for her, for him.
Mandy sipped in a shallow breath, quailing at the idea of him turning her away. He’d be kind about it—maybe a little too gentle. They’d both be embarrassed. They’d have to see each other in town—for years and decades to come.
Unless he said yes. Perhaps he’d be more likely to accept if she posed it as a business proposition...
Did she dare?
Could she?
Mandy spun away from Adam, her eyes fixed on the wall. She tried to straighten her papers, but her aim must’ve been off, because she dropped one whole stack of them onto the floor. They flew about like falling petals—so many white, perfectly rectangular flower petals.
The wood planks of the office were blackened with age, making all those white papers seem even whiter. It didn’t seem something awful at first—a mess—so much as something beautiful. If only she weren’t so embarrassed. If only Adam Booker wasn’t standing right beside her. And Gus hadn’t let out a gasp.
Adam bent with her to pick them up.
Mandy’s task was hampered by her voluminous skirts and petticoats, which pooled around her, and by the comforting structure of her corset, which kept her posture so nice and straight. But for bending down and picking up papers? It was nearly impossible. She could just barely reach one with her fingertips and drag it closer.
“Here, allow me,” Adam said, scooping up several pages with ease. His chaps folded awkwardly at the knee, but he had a natural male grace that more than compensated.
“Adam,” she said, barely loud enough for herself to hear, hoping Gus wouldn’t hear. Half-hoping Adam wouldn’t either.
He looked up from his work of gathering. “Mandy?” he asked, equally as quiet. It was clear she’d intrigued him, his gaze was so focused on her, then at her nod he bent again over the papers.
“The ad you were asking Gus about... Was it”—Mandy gathered her courage—“was it an ad for The Marriage Papers?” She hoped he’d appreciate her tone of respect. All the while, she strove for an innocent expression, but inside her heart raced so fast she feared it might stop altogether.
“What?” Adam’s face grew positively ashen, and she almost felt sorry for him. Almost. He was looking for a mail-order bride? When there were several perfectly good prospects here in Cross Creek? Her sisters were two right there. And there was Lacy, who’d be near marriageable age in a few years.
It had surely been a moment of madness when Mandy had put herself forward by answering his ad, for she quaked at the idea of revealing her identity.
What had she been thinking?
“I’m the one who answered your ad,” Mandy said, numb with a certain kind of anxious cold that crept over her limbs. She trapped another sheet of paper with one fingertip and drew it to her one tiny smidgeon at a time.
“You?” he asked, a little too noisily.
She cautioned him with a look. Too loud. But hopefully, behind all the cabinetry and the printing press, Gus hadn’t heard.
She waited a breath and, when Gus’s head didn’t appear over the top of the cabinets, she continued, “Yes, it was me.” Her heart hammered so loudly she feared Adam could hear it. Never had she felt so exposed.
“You?” he repeated, clenching the papers in his hand so tightly she feared they’d be permanently creased.
She bit her lip, asking herself why she’d said anything. Couldn’t she have kept it to herself? Forever?
She nodded. “It was me.”
Or was it I? she thought wildly, as if it mattered.
“Is this—is this some sort of joke?” he asked, his frame stiffening. His voice had grown tight, as if his collar had started to strangle him. But of course it was because of her. He thought the worst of her.
“A joke?” she repeated, horrified.