Kristine Rolofson - The Husband Show

Jake grinned. “Yes.”

“Watch out,” Jerry warned. “That’s Aurora Jones. She can emasculate you with one look. The woman makes my life miserable.”

“You’re, uh, involved?”

“God, no! There isn’t a man in town who would take her on.” He looked around the room, half expecting Aurora would pop out from behind a flower-covered post and badger him about her building permit again. “We have a professional relationship.”

“I thought she was nice,” his daughter said, glaring at him as if he’d just said Cinderella was a bitch.

“I suppose she can be,” he offered. “When she wants to.”

Les’s grandfather leaned forward. “Did you see the grizzly bear inside the Dahl? Owen MacGregor’s grandfather shot that bear and had it mounted for the Dahl. There are some people around here who think a grizzly would be easier to get along with than Aurora Jones.”

Dear Reader,

Last summer I went to Willing. Really, I did. Although the town of Willing is a fictional place, it’s based on many small Montana towns I’ve visited over the years of road trips between north Idaho and New England. But in planning the Willing to Wed series, I needed a specific location for “my” town. Out came a map of Montana and there, in the center of Montana, was Winifred. I’d never been there, but I knew it was going to be perfect.

So in June my husband and I were as excited to drive to Winifred as we’d been to fly to London years ago. Our visit coincided with the onset of the town’s 100th anniversary. Over a thousand people (in a town of 200) were expected to arrive for a weekend reunion and celebration.

Our impromptu stop in the only bar resulted in a warm welcome, town stories, introductions to one and all and an open invitation to return. Frank and John Carr could not have been more hospitable. I am now the proud owner of a Winifred T-shirt and I wear it proudly. Winifred, like Willing, had also faced its demise. But a former resident became the town’s benefactor and invested in businesses, the school and projects that would attract new residents. Winifred is a special place. Ask anyone who lives there!

Physically the town was much different from my invented Willing. But the people were just as special and kind and welcoming as those in Meg’s café. I can’t wait to go back.

I hope you’ve enjoyed the Willing to Wed miniseries. I’d love to hear from you!

Kristine

KristineRolofson@hotmail.com www.KristineRolofson.com

The Husband Show

Kristine Rolofson

~ Willing to Wed ~

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KRISTINE ROLOFSON USA TODAY bestselling author Kristine Rolofson has written more than forty books for Mills & Boon. She and her husband of many years call Rhode Island, Idaho and Texas home depending upon the time of year. When not writing, Kristine quilts, bakes peach pies, plays the fiddle and sings in a country blues band. She collects vintage cowboy boots and will not tell you how many are in her closet.

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With thanks and love to Ellie, Connie, Ann and Neil, of the Hope Mountain Blues band.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

AURORA VANDERGREN JONESTON Linden-March, otherwise known as Aurora Jones, picked up her buttercup-yellow Western boots—special ordered from a boot maker in Austin and worth every dollar—and carefully placed them inside an oversize shopping bag, along with her purse and the small box that contained a wedding gift. She’d wear her water-resistant, mud-proof UGGs until she arrived at the ranch, and then the yellow clipped-toe, stacked-heel beauties would make their debut in the recently cleaned and decorated barn.

She was late. She hated being late. Especially today, when everyone—everyone—was gathering at the famous Triple M for the wedding of the year.

The wedding of the decade, actually.

Who knew when the last wedding had taken place in Willing, Montana, home to too many bachelors and too few eligible women?

Before my time, Aurora decided, grabbing her car keys off the polished wooden counter of her bar. Way before my time.

Willing was not known for weddings, but if the mayor had his way, that was going to change. Aurora and her bar, the historic Dahl, would be thriving in the center of the Romance Capital of Montana before summer began. And Aurora was going to be ready for the influx of tourists.

She shrugged on an ivory down vest and had one freshly manicured hand on the door, ready to push it open and step out onto the sidewalk, when the door was pulled open from the outside. Aurora caught herself from falling forward into the weak Montana sunshine.

“Excuse me,” came a deep male voice.

“We’re closed,” she said, looking past a denim-covered chest as a truck honked on the street. She waved absently, assuming it was the annoying mayor honking his perpetual enthusiasm toward one and all. She’d deal with him unofficially this afternoon and officially tomorrow morning. She could hardly wait.

“But—”

“Closed,” she repeated, her keys in her hand. “For the holiday.”

“What holiday?”

That’s when Aurora looked at him. Really looked at him. He was tall, late thirties, with dark brown hair that appeared a little too long and a face that should advertise male grooming products in upscale magazines. Hazel eyes, sexy stubble and a casual how-can-you-resist-me smile completed the picture. He was taller than Aurora, who was easily five foot ten, but by just a few inches. A child stood next to him, a young girl with white-gold hair who was bundled into a blue hoodie and jeans. The child stomped her sneakered feet as if she was freezing to death.

“A wedding, but I’m running late and don’t have time to—”

“A holiday for a wedding?” He seemed baffled, but his eyes twinkled as if he knew he was being charming. “Must be some wedding if the whole town is celebrating. Or are weddings that rare around here?”

“As rare as my being on time,” she grumbled, wondering how to get past him. She started forward, assuming he’d move back. Which he did, reluctantly. “It’s the first unofficial Willing to Wed wedding,” she said, knowing how ridiculous she sounded. “It’s not one of the official ones.”

“The what?”

“Jake,” the child begged. “Please?”

“Look,” the man said to Aurora. “I have an emergency—”

“It’s not an emergency,” the girl said, hopping up and down. “I just need to use the loo. This is so embarrassing.”

“Could my daughter—” He gestured toward the child and smiled again, but this time Aurora saw that the smile didn’t quite touch his eyes. He was in a bind and Aurora guessed it was an unfamiliar one. And the girl called her father by his first name?

Aurora frowned as she studied the man. She ignored the sexy stubble, the square jaw and the wrinkled denim shirt. Who the heck was he and why was he here in town, today of all days, when the whole place was practically deserted? She wondered if she should be afraid.