Evangeline came toward him, holding Ella on her hip.
âHey, everything okay?â Denny asked.
She nodded, giving him a quick smile that didnât help his resolve much. The more time he spent with this woman, the harder it became to keep aloof from her. To remind himself that he wasnât the person for her.
She looked past him to the gathered herd. âThose calves look too young for yearlings,â she said.
âI bought Bartâs herd. A bit ahead of my five-year plan, but then my plan is in shreds right about now anyway.â
Evangelineâs expression shifted into a slow, careful smile. âSo you planned to settle down.â
âEventually.â
âI see.â
As their eyes held he felt as if her bright smile dove into his soul and settled there. He drew in a cleansing breath and put his elbows up on the fence, his arm brushing hers. Neither moved away, and as their eyes met once again, Denny wondered, could something be happening between them?
Did he dare let it?
Chapter One
âHow could you doubt me, Lady Maria?â Lord Cavanaughâs dark gaze held a gleam of mirth, belying his gruff words.
Evangeline leaned her elbow on the bookstoreâs counter, licked her finger and turned the page of her book, releasing a satisfied smile at the perfect scene with the perfect hero.
âI made myself clear that no sacrifice is too great for you,â he said, pulling her close. Mariaâs fan dropped to the floor. Ignoring the shocked looks of the other patrons of Almacks Assembly, Maria threw her arms around Lord Cavanaughâs neck, sharing a kiss with the only man she knew she could ever love.
Evangelineâs long, wavy hair fell across the side of her face as she closed the book with a satisfied sigh and smoothed her hand over the cover, admiring the hero pictured on the front. His hair was artfully tousled; his cutaway coat perfectly emphasized his broad shoulders. He looked cultured and noble and suave and heroic.
Someday my own prince will come, she thought.
The chiming of bells from the door of her store broke into her reverie.
A man, silhouetted by the sun behind him, paused inside the frame. Tall, with broad shoulders, lean hips. Her heart skipped for a moment.
Then she saw the cowboy hat he wore.
Wrong genre.
Evangeline straightened, ready to take care of her first customer of the day.
âAre you Evangeline Arsenau?â the cowboy asked. His deep voice smooth as dark chocolate and Evangeline couldnât stop a languid sigh and a quickening of her heart.
âThatâs me,â she said, wishing she didnât sound so breathless. She blamed her reaction on the book she was reading and the hero it depicted. The kind of man sheâd been looking for all her life.
As she slipped the book under the counter, the man in the doorway stepped farther into the store and came into focus.
His shabby plaid shirt had seen better days years ago as had his once-white T-shirt. His faded and torn blue jeans were ragged at the hem where they met unlaced leather work boots so scuffed and stained she was unsure of the original color. He pulled his hat off his head, revealing mussed, overlong hair, and as he came near, she caught a hint of the too-familiar scent of diesel fumes.
Truck driver, she thought. Cowboy truck driver.
And Evangelineâs foolish heart, which had only moments ago fluttered in anticipation at his silhouette, thudded in her chest.
Not a chance.
âIâm Denny Norquest,â he said, holding a hand out to her, his smile showing even teeth white against the dark stubble shading his firm chin. âYour father told me to stop by Hartley Creek and say hello as I was heading to British Columbia. And here I am.â