Karen Kirst - The Husband Hunt

Wanted: A Husband

Sophie Tanner gave up hoping for Nathan O’Malley’s approval—and love—long ago. Getting married is the only way to protect her younger brother and keep her family’s Smoky Mountain farm. As much as she’d like Nathan to be the groom, he can’t seem to get past their friendship…or their differences.

Since they were children, Nathan has known Sophie was too impulsive, too headstrong. She’s forever rushing into situations without thinking them through, like this scheme to snare a husband in under a month. Nathan always thought he’d fall in love with someone like himself—sensible, cautious, levelheaded. Sophie is his polar opposite. So why can’t he picture anyone else at his side?

Smoky Mountain Matches: Dreams of home and family come true in the Smoky Mountains

“What do you think of Sophie’s new look, Nathan?”

Cheeks burning, Sophie couldn’t bring herself to look at him, watching instead his large hands near the chessboard, how they clenched and the knuckles went white.

“I would say she hasn’t changed all that much.”

“How can you say that?” said Nathan’s mother, who’d just entered the room and was setting a plate of cookies on the coffee table.

Sophie inwardly cringed. Of course. She’d known, hadn’t she, that a new dress wouldn’t alter the way Nathan viewed her.

“She hasn’t changed,” Nathan drawled softly in the gathering silence, “because she’s always been beautiful, inside and out.”

Startled, Sophie’s gaze shot to his face. Surely she hadn’t heard right? And yet there, in the softening of his mouth, the flicker of a smile, she witnessed appreciation and approval. A giddy sort of joy infused her insides, warming her from the inside out.

Indicating the board, where he had no legal moves left, he said, “Stalemate.”

She stared. Very rarely did they call a draw. The game’s outcome was clear, however. Neither one of them was a winner.

KAREN KIRST

was born and raised in East Tennessee near the Great Smoky Mountains. A lifelong lover of books, it wasn’t until after college that she had the grand idea to write one herself. Now she divides her time between being a wife, homeschooling mom and romance writer. Her favorite pastimes are reading, visiting tearooms and watching romantic comedies.

The Husband Hunt

Karen Kirst

www.millsandboon.co.uk

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

—Isaiah 55:8–9

For a beloved aunt, Linda McLemore, whose support and encouragement mean the world to me. Thanks for all the laughs and the prayers. I love you.

This dream would not be possible without my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

John 15:5: I am the vine, you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.

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

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Discussion Questions

Excerpt

Chapter One

Gatlinburg, Tennessee

August 1881

She was trapped. Stuck high above the ground in her place of refuge—a sugar maple with a trunk too wide to get her arms around and century-deep roots—cornered by a skunk, of all things. The varmint had sauntered up and planted itself at the tree’s base and showed no intentions of leaving.

Gripping the branch above her head, Sophie leaned forward and commenced trying to reason with him. “Yoo-hoo! How about you move along? I’m sure there are tastier earthworms along the stream bank. You might even catch yourself a frog.”

His frantic digging continued. How long was she going to have to wait?

“You’re keeping me from my chores, you know.” She blew a stray hair out of her eyes. “Will and Granddad will be wanting their supper soon.” Beans, fried potatoes and corn bread again. Her specialty.

The snap of a twig brought her and the skunk’s head up simultaneously.

Her gaze landed on a face as familiar to her as her own, clashing with silver eyes that seemed to perpetually taunt or condemn her. She swallowed a sigh. She’d long ago given up hoping for approval from Nathan O’Malley.

“Hello, Nathan.”

One dusky eyebrow quirked. “I see you’ve made a new friend.”

She peered down. The animal’s focus had shifted to Nathan, and it was now stamping the ground in warning. “Yeah, well, my friend doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

He eyed the skunk with caution. Sunlight shifting through the trees glinted in his light brown hair, cut short so he wouldn’t have to fool with it, and bathed his classic features in golden light. Features that were branded into her brain. A straight, proud nose flanked by prominent cheekbones. Square jaw. The crease beside his full lips that flashed every time he smiled.

And who could forget those quicksilver eyes? They dominated her daydreams, hovered at the edge of her consciousness as she drifted off to sleep at night. It was downright irritating.

“I really need to get down,” she informed him, scooting closer to the trunk. That jittery feeling was back. If she didn’t eat soon, she chanced tumbling out of this tree in a dead faint. Wouldn’t that impress him.

“Could you try to lure him away?”

He tore his gaze from the irate skunk to stare up at her. “And how do you propose I do that?”

“I don’t know.” She cast around the forest floor for inspiration. When none came, she suggested, “If you move away, maybe he’ll follow. Toss a stick in the direction of the stream. Maybe he’ll get distracted and realize there’s more to eat there.”

“He’s not a dog.”

Frowning, he edged sideways. The skunk hissed. Followed.

“It’s working!” Sophie swung her body around and stretched her foot down to the knotted branch below.

“Sophie, stop,” Nathan ordered. “Wait until he’s gone.”

She chose to ignore his warning. Unfortunately, her boot slipped. Her grip on the trunk slackened. Scrambling for purchase, she whipped her head around in time to see Nathan surge forward as if to catch her.

The skunk reacted as expected. Tail aloft, he sprayed.

Sophie gasped. Nathan attempted to shield his face with his arms, to sidestep, but he was too slow. Because his focus was on rescuing her. Groaning, she shimmied down the trunk and hopped to the ground as the offended animal scampered in the opposite direction.

“Oh, Nathan, I’m so sorry!” She advanced toward him, only to halt in her tracks as noxious fumes assaulted her nose. He smelled like rotten eggs and garlic. Ugh. Wrinkling her nose, she covered the bottom half of her face with one hand. “Did it get in your eyes?”

His lids blinked open, revealing twin chips of forged steel. Uh-oh.

“No.”

Wearing a disgusted expression, he carefully wiped the moisture from his face with his shirtsleeves. He looked down and grimaced. “These were my most comfortable trousers.”

He didn’t have to say it. Those trousers were headed for the burn pile.