HEATHER MACALLISTER - Hand-Picked Husband

“Clay’s a fine boy. I’ll be proud to claim him as a son-in-law.”

Autumn’s heart had pounded so hard that she missed the exact words said next, but the gist was clear: the two families assumed that she and Clay would eventually marry and were planning on a merger of the two ranches. From the tone of the conversation, it was clear that this was a long-held assumption.

She and Clay had stared at each other before Clay had carefully closed the car hood. Nothing had been the same between them after that.

Autumn could hardly blame him. He was the only son, bound by tradition and economics. He ought to be able to choose his wife instead of having one forced on him. She didn’t want to be forced on anybody. She wanted Clay to have a choice, and she wanted one, too.

But he was a Texas gentleman through and through. There was no way he’d marry first and make it look like he’d jilted her. No, it was up to Autumn to find someone and free Clay from his obligation. The problem was that she hadn’t found anybody she could contemplate marrying yet.

“Aren’t you finished with that thing yet?” Clay complained. “I’m telling you, none of this matters if a person doesn’t like the way you look. Within thirty seconds, you’ll know if it’s a go, or a no go.”

Autumn gave him a disgusted look. “We don’t all judge people by your shallow standards.”

“It’s a fact of life.” He plucked her paper from between her fingers. “You don’t need to worry about it, by the way.”

“Why not?”

Clay looked up from reading her profile. In a heartbeat, his expression changed from looking at her as a childhood friend to the way a grown man looks at a woman he desires.

As her eyes widened, Clay’s lids lowered slightly and his gaze scorched over her. To her acute embarrassment, Autumn felt her cheeks heat.

A corner of Clay’s mouth twitched and he went back to reading her profile.

There’d been a compliment in there somewhere, but she wasn’t comfortable with that sort of compliment from Clay. She was comfortable with verbal jabs and sarcastic remarks from Clay. She was comfortable competing with Clay. She was comfortable ignoring him. How did he expect her to ignore a look like that?

“What is this ‘sentimental, serious and tolerant’ garbage?” Clay scoffed.

That was more like it. “I am sentimental, serious and tolerant.”

“Where’s stubborn?”

“I am not stubborn. I’m focused.”

Clay snorted. “And ‘sensitive’? You don’t have a sensitive bone in your body.” He erased and changed some of the personality traits she’d checked off. “You turn this in and you’ll be matched with a dadgum poet.”

Autumn narrowed her eyes and grabbed for Clay’s profile. Just what wondrous traits had he given himself ?

“‘Affectionate’? Explain to me how a man who gave me a timing belt one Christmas can be described as affectionate?”

He looked puzzled—and a little hurt. “But you needed a new timing belt, and you’d spent all your money on Christmas presents. I didn’t want you to get stranded on the road somewhere between here and Fort Worth.”

He’d done the replacement himself, she remembered. And it had been a relief not to have to worry on the drive back to school. “That’s being considerate,” she allowed. “I’m changing affectionate to considerate. Now, where’s arrogant?”

“Hey!”

But Autumn’s attention had been caught by something else. For his dreams and goals, Clay had simply written that he wanted to make sure he maintained the family’s ranch so he could leave it to his children.

And really, what other goal could he have? Yet if Autumn didn’t get out of the way so Clay could find a wife, then he’d never have children.

She skimmed over the rest, made a few alterations, her eyebrows rising when he described his ideal mate. “You’re looking for a woman who’s not afraid to ‘work hard, play hard and love hard’?”

He shrugged. “I thought it was kind of catchy. A lot better than a ‘life partner’.”

That was what she’d written. “I was trying to find a way to say that I don’t want a man who’s going to boss me around.”

“I think we’ve got that covered by mentioning that you’re strong-willed and independent.”

“You can’t put that. I’ll either get a wimp or a Neanderthal.”

“Well, no, actually, I said you wanted a man who wasn’t afraid to be a man and to let you be a woman.”

“Give me that!” Autumn stretched across the table and tried to grab the paper from him.

Laughing, Clay easily held it out of her reach.

That was how Maria found them. “You two finished?”

“Yes,” Clay said.

“No,” Autumn said, and retrieved her profile.

She erased Clay’s macho comment and rewrote “life partner”.

“You’ll be sorry,” he murmured as they handed Maria their forms.

“Okay,” Maria said. “I got to type all this information into the computer. You can pick up your matches on Monday.”

“Monday?” Autumn didn’t want to wait until Monday.

“There’s just me in the office today and I’m off at noon. I’ll type as fast as I can.”

“Did you check off ‘impatient’ on the personality profile?” Clay asked.

Autumn glared at him.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Clay stood. “Monday will be fine. We’ve still got that meeting to go to, Autumn.”

Right. Autumn checked her watch. They were going to be at least twenty minutes late. Even worse, they would arrive at the same time. She sighed, then brightened when she visualized everyone’s faces when she showed up at the Buyers’ Ball with someone other than Clay.

CHAPTER THREE

FAX

To: Debra Reese, Reese Ranch

From: Nellie Barnett, Golden B Ranch

Dear Debra,

Clay is in a very good mood. How’s Autumn?

Fingers crossed, Nellie

FACSIMILE

To: Nellie Barnett, Golden B

From: Debra Reese, Reese Ranch

Dear Nellie,

Everything’s sunny here. She acts like she’s got a secret. Do you suppose this is IT?

Holding my breath,

D.

AUTUMN weighed arriving when the Yellow Rose opened on Monday morning and appearing overeager with the desire to nail down a contribution from them before Clay could. Beating out Clay won.

Promptly at nine o’clock, Autumn turned down Bluebonnet Drive and parked her Bronco. In her rearview mirror, she saw a red pickup truck pull close to the curb behind her. Clay. It figured.

He was talking on his cell phone, so instead of waiting for him, Autumn pushed open the gate and ran up the porch steps.

The outer doors of the Yellow Rose were propped open with a ceramic cat doorstop. Through the glass inner door, Autumn could see Maria in the reception area, but she was turned away.

As Autumn opened the door, she heard Maria calling out to someone in the back. “I’m telling you, Miss Willie, call my sister’s middle girl, Amalia. She’s the best wallpaper hanger in San Antonio. I sewed the flower girls’ dresses for her wedding, so she’ll give you a discount.”

The receptionist smiled up at her, but before she could ask if she could help, Maria turned back around, saw Autumn and looked at the grandfather clock across the hall. “Boy, you sure are eager.”

“Actually, I wondered if you’d had a chance to ask the owner if she’s willing to contribute to the education fund or do you need me to speak to her?”

“No need. I already did and she’s gonna go the whole hog.” Maria looked at the receptionist and they both laughed.

Autumn smiled although she’d heard a variation of every pig joke told since the beginning of time. She continued smiling as she wrote up a receipt for a full-page advertisement and handed it to Mana just as the door squeaked open.