young woman, glanced up from the computer monitor, smiling warmly. “Welcome to the Granger Hotel, Miss LaSalle.”
Lydia set her iPhone on the counter and pulled a wallet out of her purse.
“We’ve reserved the Emerald Suite for you.”
She smiled. “Thank you.” Lydia relaxed as she accepted the room key from the clerk. She worried that the fake driver’s license would not pass the woman’s scrutiny, but everything was working according to plan.
“I hope you will find your stay with us an enjoyable one,” the front-desk clerk said.
“I’m sure I will,” Lydia responded. She put away her wallet as she walked toward the elevators.
“Miss LaSalle...”
It took a moment for Lydia to remember that the woman was addressing her. She turned around to find the desk clerk holding up her cell phone. She had been caught off guard—something Lydia could not allow to happen again.
“Oh, my goodness,” she murmured. “Thanks so much. I would be completely lost without my phone.”
She had checked in the hotel as Lydia LaSalle but her real name was Lydia Emerson. As far as the people in this small town were concerned, she was a wealthy heiress on vacation.
Lydia tipped the bellhop twenty dollars after he set the three pieces of designer luggage inside her suite. She had just recently arrived in town, but she had a to-do list a mile long.
As soon as she was alone in the suite, Lydia ran into the bedroom and dived into the king-size bed.
“Ooh...this feels wonderful.” Although she traveled a lot, Lydia had never stayed in a room as extravagant as this one, which was decorated in rich jewel-tone colors and dark mahogany.
“Okay, enough being silly,” she whispered. “I have a lot to do, so I need to get unpacked.”
She picked up a suitcase.
“Ow!”
She hopped on her left foot and clutched at the bruised toes on her right one. Shooting a furious glare at the bolted-down table, Lydia limped her way over to the king-size bed.
She laid the suitcase down on the bed.
With her aching toes throbbing in concert with her beating heart, Lydia opened it and began removing the contents.
She moved forward, encountering the average-size walk-in closet. Lydia hung up the gown she’d planned to wear to the upcoming charity function. She had only dreamed of wearing a couture creation like this and never expected it to come true.
After unpacking, Lydia sat down on the edge of her bed. She picked up her cell phone and dialed.
“Hey, girl...”
She smiled at the sound of her best friend’s voice. “Jasmine, I just wanted to let you know that I made it to Granger.” They’d met during Lydia’s first week in Los Angeles and had become fast friends.
“I can’t believe you’re in Montana. With your job, I figured you’d be taking trips to places like Europe or some exotic island.”
“Not this time around.”
“Take lots of pictures for me. I doubt I’ll ever visit Montana.”
Lydia laughed. “It’s actually quite pretty here. The mountains, the lakes and miles of gorgeous blue sky.”
“Really? Maybe I should come visit.”
“You’d be bored after a couple of days, Jasmine. While it’s beautiful here, there is nothing but a bunch of ranches, cattle and cowboys—none of which is of interest to you.”
“You’re right,” her friend responded. “I really don’t know how you’re going to survive these next few weeks. You’re a city girl.”
“I’ll manage,” Lydia responded with a chuckle. “I’m sure I’ll have enough work to keep me busy.”
“Well, make sure to try and have some fun. Don’t work too hard.”
Lydia laughed. “And you get some work done. Cut back on the fun.”
She hung up with Jasmine and called her mother next.
As expected, the call went to voice mail. “Mama, I just wanted you to know that I’m in Montana for business. I’m going to be here for a few weeks. Call me when you get a minute.” Her mother worked odd hours at the post office in Syracuse, her hometown. She hoped to make enough money one day to convince her mother to retire. The woman had worked hard all of her life. Lydia wanted her mother to take a moment to relax.
Lydia decided to have lunch delivered to her room.
While she waited for her food to arrive, Lydia sat down on the sofa and pulled a folder out of her leather tote.
A photograph fell into her lap.
Wesley Broward was a very handsome man, indeed. Thirty years old and single, although it was rumored that he had left a string of broken hearts all over the Mountain States. Lydia could clearly understand why women were so drawn to him—those sexy brown eyes and smooth complexion except for the neatly trimmed mustache and goatee. According to her notes, he stood six feet tall and was well-fit and muscular. Lydia knew that Wesley wasn’t much of a society man, but someone with his wealth could not completely escape the attention of gossip columns and news magazines.
She was looking forward to meeting the Broward family, but Lydia was especially excited at the prospect of getting to know Wesley. Her eyes traveled to his face.
It was so easy to get lost in those intense eyes of his, she cautioned herself. Lydia reminded herself that she was not in Granger to fall in love with a cowboy. As soon as her work was finished, Lydia intended to return to Los Angeles.
* * *
Wesley strolled outside after everyone had finished eating breakfast. It was time to get his day started. He paused on the porch, allowing the subtle warmth from the morning sun to embrace him.
“I guess you’ll be adding another broken heart to your list after tomorrow night,” Jameson said as he stood beside Wesley.
“Actually, I have no intentions of getting involved with my date. It’s too much trouble,” he responded. “What about you? Women in Granger have been trying to tie you down for years.”
“Not for the right reasons,” Jameson said. His lips curved upward. “And I have enough sense to leave it at one date. But then again, no one has ever tossed their underwear onstage to me.”
Recalling the incident, Wesley burst into laughter. “I forgot all about that. The auction last year did get a little wild. That auction was the cowboy’s equivalent of a rock concert. I felt like a rock star.”
Jameson chuckled. “All right, Rock Star...let’s get our horses and take a ride.”
They made their way to the stables and quickly saddled their horses.
Minutes later, the cool, April morning stillness was punctured by the slapping of saddle leather, the jingling of spurs and the rhythmic beat of horses’ hooves on the soft ground as Wesley and Jameson rode their horses down the road toward the pasture where the workers had taken the cattle to graze.
“I’m going to ride around the perimeter,” Wesley stated. He usually performed a check every other day to make sure there were no broken or stretched wires, broken posts, fallen trees or branches on the fence line.
There was a time when he was excited to be outside with the cattle, but things had changed lately. He was restless.
Ranching was in his blood. Wesley was born into the lifestyle, but there was a longing—a longing to try something new. He just had no idea what he wanted to do. It wasn’t what he considered a burning desire, but an itch to explore the possibilities was severe enough to stay in the forefront