Reclaiming the Runaway Bride

Seven years and two broken engagements haven’t erased Garrett Mitchell from Molly Scott’s mind. Her employer insists Molly and Garrett belong together. To appease the well-meaning matchmaker, the pair agrees to a pretend courtship. But too late, Molly finds herself falling for a man who might never trust her.

Garrett is a prominent Denver attorney now, not the naive seventeen-year-old who always felt second-best. Surely the string of suitors Molly’s left behind only proves her fickleness. Does Garrett dare believe that she has only ever been waiting for him? The third engagement could be the charm, for his first—and only—love.

Charity House: Offering an oasis of hope, faith and love on the rugged Colorado frontier

Garrett grasped Molly’s hand in his.

On the surface, the gesture was a common courtesy between two acquaintances. With the benefit of her glove as a barrier there should have been nothing to cause her alarm. But this was the first time in seven years he’d taken her hand without hesitation.

Molly liked the unexpected familiarity of the gesture, liked it far too much.

Blinking hard, she struggled to keep her composure. But his touch felt so right. Time seemed to slow, past overlaying present. And, still, Garrett held on to her.

He moved a step closer and her mind grasped one lone thought. This was Garrett, the boy who used to put her at ease when no one else could. The one who had comforted her, treasured her. Loved her.

She’d once believed that God had brought them together at the perfect time, and that the Lord’s hand had been guiding them toward a common future all along.

She’d been terribly wrong. Their chance to be a couple had come and gone a long time ago.

So why wouldn’t Garrett release her?

And why wasn’t she insisting he let her go?

RENEE RYAN

grew up in a small Florida beach town. To entertain herself during countless hours of “lying out,” she read all the classics. It wasn’t until the summer between her sophomore and junior years at Florida State University that she read her first romance novel. Hooked from page one, she spent hours consuming one book after another while working on the best (and last!) tan of her life.

Two years later, armed with a degree in economics and religion, she explored various career opportunities, including stints at a Florida theme park, a modeling agency and a cosmetics conglomerate. She moved on to teach high-school economics, American government and Latin while coaching award-winning cheerleading teams. Several years later, with an eclectic cast of characters swimming around in her head, she began seriously pursuing a writing career. She lives in Savannah, Georgia, with her own hero-husband and a large fluffy cat many have mistaken for a small bear.

Finally a Bride

Renee Ryan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.

—Ruth 1:16

To my beautiful, talented, intelligent, gifted daughter, Hillary Anne. You inspired Molly from the moment she showed up on the page several books ago. It’s been a joy and honor to watch you grow into a loving, Christ-following young woman. You make your mommy proud!

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

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

Denver, Colorado, 1894

Molly Taylor Scott knew most people considered her a delightfully charming, sometimes frivolous young woman who loved being engaged almost as much as she loved the Lord. Molly would agree with this summation of her character, mostly. However, she would argue one key point.

She was never frivolous.

Especially when it came to matters of the heart. Thus, as she stood outside Denver’s most exclusive millinery shop, surrounded by several would-be suitors, she treated the situation with utmost gravity.

Twirling her parasol, she gave the men her undivided attention. A rather difficult task, when one of the four seemed determined to monopolize the conversation. Molly stopped listening to the conversation as something—someone—exited the Arapahoe County Courthouse one block north.

Senses poised, she turned her head ever so slightly and caught sight of Garrett Mitchell moving at a clipped pace in her direction. He looked incredibly handsome today, every bit the successful attorney he’d become in the past few years.

Eyes cast forward, he made swift progress down the lane, never once looking at Molly or acknowledging her presence. Still, her breathing quickened and her heart stuttered.

Stupid, stupid heart. An undertow of anger rolled through her. Interesting thing, anger; it signified she still cared.

She really shouldn’t still care.

Not about Garrett Mitchell. Or those sculpted features framed inside dark blond hair, or that brilliant mind lurking behind the oh-so-handsome face, or that cowboy swagger that had stayed with him long after leaving his family’s ranch.

Why, why, why did he still affect her so? He’d walked away from her seven years ago. And I let him.

Molly sighed. Better that, than give in to fresh despair.

A masculine clearing of a throat drew her gaze back to the man on her right. “Miss Scott, you must agree to attend the opera with me this evening.” He took her hand and beamed down at her. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

A chorus of objections and counter invitations rose up from the other three in their group. Repeating his request a second time—or was it a third?—Mr. Giles Thomas gripped Molly’s hand tighter and commanded her stare with an earnest one of his own.

He was not classically handsome, and he was certainly no Garrett Mitchell, but he had a pleasant enough appeal with his brown hair, brown eyes and rather ordinary brown suit.

“I’m afraid, Mr. Thomas, I must decline your lovely offer.” She smiled brightly, even as she carefully extricated her hand from his bearlike grip. “Mrs. Singletary has already requested my company in her box this evening.”

At times such as these Molly was ever grateful for her position as a personal secretary and companion to the most prominent widow in Denver. As if speaking her employer’s name could summon the woman herself, Mrs. Singletary exited the millinery shop, her arms overflowing with her purchases.

Welcoming the interruption, and feeling guilty for waiting outside while her employer shopped, Molly set her parasol against the building and hastened forward. “Let me help you.”

She retrieved the boxes, juggling the heaviest with her left hand and shifting around several more with her right. Sensing an opportunity to play the gentleman—a shade too late by Molly’s estimation—Mr. Thomas and the others began snatching boxes away from her.

She stumbled under their enthusiastic efforts, careening backward. A pair of strong hands captured her shoulders and steadied her. Once she had her balance, the hands dropped away.

Head spinning, heart pounding wildly against her ribs, she barely managed to push the name of her rescuer past her trembling lips. “Garrett.”

A slow, affectionate smile spread across his face. Just as quickly, it disappeared. “Molly,” he said in a bland tone.

“I...that is...” She swallowed, words backing up in the throat until she thought she might choke on them. “Thank you.”

“Watch your step. The footing is uneven here.”

“Yes, I—”

He tipped his hat, muttered a hasty farewell and was gone.

Breathing hard, Molly blinked after his retreating back. It was always the same whenever their paths crossed. A brief moment of understanding, followed by an awkward exchange of stilted words and then...nothing but a bone-deep sense of loss that left her heart aching.

No. Oh, no. No more wallowing. No more wishing for what might have been. Molly was finished with Garrett Mitchell and unrequited love. She was also finished with the four men still arguing over her.

Unnaturally quiet throughout her tête-à-tête with Garrett, as well as now, Mrs. Singletary eyed Molly with a speculative, almost calculating gaze. At last, as if finally finished weighing the situation, she held up a hand. “Gentleman, that’s quite enough.”

All four went very still, very silent.

“This boorish behavior is not helping your cause with the young lady.”

Hastily worded apologies rang in the air.

“Not to me, you scoundrels.” Mrs. Singletary shook her head in annoyance. “Miss Scott is the one you have offended.”

And thus began another round of excuses stacked upon blame.

Only half listening, Molly nodded and smiled and generally wished to be anywhere but here. In silent understanding, Mrs. Singletary winked at her then resumed her glowering.

The expression of disapproval did nothing to hamper the woman’s remarkable features. She had been a renowned beauty in her day. Her hair was still a rich, golden brown. Her face remained smooth of any sign that two decades had come and gone since Mr. Singletary had won her hand in marriage.

The argument continued, reaching ridiculous proportions, until Mr. Thomas pushed forward. “Since you have denied me your company this evening, you must allow me to escort you home now.”

More disputes arose.

Again, Mrs. Singletary took control. “None of you will be escorting the lady home, for the simple reason we are not heading that way just yet.”

Since the widow was one of the most powerful women in town, not many folks were brave enough to chance her displeasure. Molly’s current admirers proved no exception.

“Now, my dear, be so kind as to retrieve my packages from these young men and say goodbye.”

There was a moment of jostling, followed by a bit of tugging and pushing but, finally, Molly was once more in possession of Mrs. Singletary’s purchases.

After another flat-eyed scan of the group, the older woman dismissed the lot of them. Grumbling under their breaths, they scattered in four different directions, eventually absorbed by the noise and bustle of the busy Denver streets.

“Where to next?” Molly asked, breathing a sigh of relief. “The dress shop, perhaps?”

“Not today. I have a mind to study my hats before deciding if I need a new gown or two to match.”

She considered the boxes in her hands. “Did you find anything worth wearing immediately?”

“Hardly, but I trust you will put them right soon enough.”

“I’d like nothing better.” Molly found great pleasure in turning an otherwise predictable hat into a new creation, with an added touch of flare all her own.

Staring off in the distance, Mrs. Singletary made a small movement of her head. “I wonder why Mr. Mitchell left so quickly after his gallant rescue.”

Molly masked the falter in her step. Garrett had been especially chivalrous this afternoon. But that was Garrett simply being Garrett. He would have done the same for any woman. She was nothing special to him, not anymore. The surge of sorrow was so strong it threatened to consume her. And...and...

And Mrs. Singletary had just asked her a question. Releasing a tempered breath, Molly lifted a shoulder. “He was clearly in a hurry.”

She sounded so calm, so in control. It was quite an act, when her heart was as bleak as a cold, rainy day.

“You are friends with his sisters, are you not?”

“I am.”

“Hmm, very strange he didn’t stick around and, I must say, quite inconvenient.” Mrs. Singletary planted her fists on her hips, her gaze turning shrewd. “I have a business proposition of some urgency I had wanted to discuss with him.”

Molly cast her employer a quick, baffled look. Garrett worked at Bennett, Bennett and Brand, yes, but Mrs. Singletary’s personal attorney was Reese Bennett, Jr. Therefore, it seemed rather odd that the older woman would approach Garrett in lieu of her own lawyer.

“Why wait any longer?” The widow spun around and set out toward the law firm. “I shall speak with him now.”

Molly trotted after Mrs. Singletary. Fingers curled into fists, she affected a placid tone. “But...” Think, Molly, think. “You don’t have an appointment.”

“I don’t need one.”

True. Mrs. Singletary was the law firm’s wealthiest and most influential client. Appointment or not, none of the attorneys would turn her away. “Are you certain this business you have with Mr. Mitchell can’t wait until later?”

“Quite certain.” She quickened her pace.

Molly did the same, her stomach tied in knots, her arms growing tired under the weight of the packages she carried.

Dodging the bulk of the traffic with practiced ease, Mrs. Singletary hastened along the narrow sidewalk. A block shy of the firm, she leveled her gaze on Molly and made a most unusual request. “I would like you present when I speak with Mr. Mitchell.”

“Me? I don’t understand.” Mrs. Singletary had never asked her to attend her business meetings before.

“It’s very simple, my dear. I want to see how Mr. Mitchell behaves in your company. And you in his.”

Oh, this was bad. So very, very bad. “Mrs. Singletary, you aren’t playing matchmaker, are you?”

“Matchmaker, me?”

The cryptic response made Molly all the more skeptical of her employer’s motives. “Why do you wish to see how Garrett and I interact with one another?”

“It’s important my personal companion gets along with my business associates.”

Since when? “That’s never mattered before.”

“An oversight on my part.”

So Mrs. Singletary was playing matchmaker. What a disastrous turn of events! Molly must dissuade her employer from this course of action, but how? If she protested too much she would only encourage the woman. “It’s useless,” she muttered.

“Now, my dear, one never knows. A few false starts are no indication that we won’t find our one true love eventually.” She patted her hand. “The Lord has brought you into my care. I shall see you happily settled no matter how long it takes.”

Molly chose not to argue. Mrs. Singletary would discover soon enough that Garrett was not the man for her. Their time had come and gone, never to be regained. Tragic, really.

She suddenly felt exhausted, and oh so lonely. Even though others had claimed to love her since Garrett, none had been any more sincere than he. Molly had given two of them a chance, going so far as agreeing to marry them.

Her greatest shame—the dark, awful secret she shared only with the Lord—was that she hadn’t been the one to call off her engagements. Her fiancés had walked away from her, just as Garrett had. Nearly eight months since her last broken engagement and she couldn’t help but wonder if she was destined to be alone. When all she wanted was a family of her own.

This melancholy wasn’t like her. She’d always been a child of joy, of hope, her favorite Bible verse also her life motto. He fill thy mouth with laughing, thy lips with rejoicing.

Where was her joy now? Her laughter?

She fought off a wave of panic, and readjusted the packages in her hands. She could not give up hope, because without hope all was lost.

* * *

Secluded in his office, Garrett felt his mood take on a hard edge. He couldn’t get Molly Taylor Scott out of his head.

The document beneath his hand blurred, the words a haze of black swimming atop white. He drummed his fingers on the parchment in a rapid two-finger rhythm. The sight of Molly this afternoon had been like a swift, cold wind through Garret’s soul, alerting all his senses, making him agonizingly aware that they’d once been very much in love.

The bold color of her crimson gown had been a stunning complement to her raven hair, soft, creamy skin and blue, blue eyes. For that brief moment when he’d gripped her shoulders, the years had melted away and Garrett had felt the strong pull of her all over again. He’d been transfixed.

The four men surrounding her had been equally transfixed.

Hostility surged through his veins at the memory.

Rearranging the Phipps contract on his desk, he proceeded to review the legal language. A detail man by nature, he searched for loopholes others had missed, areas that might present problems in the future. Even a misplaced comma could change the meaning of a sentence and cost his client a fortune.

He was deep into the work when a knock came at the door. Concentration blown, he looked up. “Enter.”

His law clerk, Julian Summers, a thin young man with ordinary features and an eager smile, stuck his head in the room. “Mrs. Beatrix Singletary has requested a moment of your time.”

“She wishes to see me?” Not Reese? “Are you certain?”

“She requested you. And she’s not alone—her companion is with her.” Adam’s apple bobbing, Summers sighed. “She’s really quite beautiful. Miss Scott, I mean. Charming, too.”

The man sounded awestruck. He looked awestruck, with his fidgeting hands and dazed expression. Right. Another poor, unsuspecting sap had succumbed to Molly’s undeniable charm.

“Send in Mrs. Singletary. And—” Garrett’s jaw tightened “—her companion.”

“Very good.” Summers hurried out, leaving the door ajar.

By the time Garrett crossed the room, he found the women already standing at the threshold. While Molly transferred an assortment of packages into his law clerk’s care, Garrett schooled his features into a blank expression. His well-honed composure evaporated the moment Molly turned and looked at him.

His heart slammed against his ribs, his breath hitched in his lungs. Now who’s the sap?

He cleared his throat. “Ladies, please, come in.”

Eyebrows raised, Mrs. Singletary brushed past him and began a slow perusal of his office. Molly followed a step behind. Her floral scent hit him like a rough blow to the heart.

When he finally ventured to look into her face again, and she didn’t quite meet his gaze, he felt a sense of validation. Though she hid her reaction behind a benign smile, Molly was nervous in his company. At least he wasn’t alone in his struggle to remain indifferent.

Affecting a bland expression of his own, he edged around her and concentrated on the task of directing Mrs. Singletary to a chair facing his desk.

While he waited for her to settle, he watched Molly wander to the lone window in his office and look out. Her shoulders were unnaturally stiff. Garrett suspected he was the cause of her tension and that wrecked him. He wanted to go to her, to tease a laugh out of her like he had when they were children.

He no longer had that right.

Adopting a relaxed demeanor for this odd meeting, he sat on the edge of his desk in front of Mrs. Singletary. “To what do I owe this unexpected honor?”

The widow set her reticule carefully on her lap and got straight to the point. “I have a mind to expand my business holdings into new areas and I want you to assist me.”

He blinked at the unprecedented request. He’d met the widow only a few times, the most recent when she’d been about to invest in a lumber operation and Reese had asked Garrett to review the final contract with her.

“I see I have shocked you.” She looked rather pleased at the prospect, proving her reputation as an unconventional woman with a penchant toward the outrageous.

“Why not make this request of your own attorney?”

“Reese will continue overseeing my legal matters, but I have decided that you, Mr. Mitchell, will assist me with the expansion of my fortune.”

By the satisfied expression on her face, she knew she’d piqued his interest. This was just the sort of opportunity perfectly suited to his skills. “Again, why me?”

“I should think that obvious. You were invaluable during my purchase of the lumberyard.”

“I merely did my job.”

“No, Mr. Mitchell, you went far beyond the minimum. You have a remarkable mind for business, much like my Reginald.” At the mention of her late husband, she gave a wistful sigh. “I find myself growing bored of late. I want to take more risks.”

She had his attention. Although Garrett usually steered his clients into conservative investments when they solicited his advice, he’d taken considerable chances with his own finances, to very lucrative ends.

But to guide the firm’s wealthiest client down a similar path was another matter entirely. “Have you discussed this with Mr. Bennett directly?”

“I have.” She smoothed a steady, elegant hand over her skirt. “Once I explained the particulars of my plan, he thought my seeking your assistance a splendid idea.”

Reese had said nothing to Garrett, not yet anyway. If he agreed to this, how much contact would he have with Molly? He glanced at her now and found her staring at him.

A muscle knotted in his chest.

Shifting his position, he addressed Mrs. Singletary and her very tempting offer. “What you are suggesting comes with certain dangers. You could lose a large amount of money.”

“I could also make a great deal more.”

A valid point. But why would a woman as wealthy as Beatrix Singletary need more money? When was enough, enough?

She answered his unspoken query with a relaxed smile. “With the additional resources I will be able to expand my charitable giving. A few of my pet projects are in great need.”

Now she really had his attention. Garrett believed in doing good and being generous. To whom much is given, much is expected.

“Do we have a deal, Mr. Mitchell?”

He cleared his throat. “I need to discuss this with Mr. Bennett first.”

“If you feel you must.”

“I must.” On this point, he would not relent. “Assuming all is in order, when would you like to begin?”

“Immediately.” Her eyes sparkled with a shrewd light. “I will expect you to be available to me on a regular basis.”

“I have other clients who require my time and attention...”

She brushed this aside with a flick of her wrist. “I’m confident you will find a way to satisfy their needs and mine.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off. “I intend for our partnership to be a success, Mr. Mitchell. As such, we must first get to know one another better. Agreed?”

He nodded. What she was suggesting would require a high level of trust between them, and that could only come with time.

“You know my companion.” She indicated Molly with a hitch of her chin.

He glanced at Molly out of the corner of his eye. She’d retired to a seat by the window. She appeared serene, calm. Garrett knew better. He could feel the storm of emotion brewing beneath the surface. “Miss Scott and I are acquainted, yes.”

Molly stiffened at his dry tone, but said nothing.

“Well, then.” Mrs. Singletary rose and Garrett did the same. She moved through the room, idly touching random books on the shelving to her left, the stack of ledgers on her right. “Since you and Molly are...acquainted, I trust you have no objection to attending the opera with us this evening.”

Molly made a soft sound of protest in her throat, barely audible but Garrett had caught it. And so, it appeared, had her employer. “You have a concern, my dear?”

“No, Mrs. Singletary. In fact...” She blessed Garrett with a sweet, sweet smile, all politeness and easygoing manner. “I look forward to Mr. Mitchell’s company this evening.”

They both knew that wasn’t true. But he adopted her same casual attitude and said, “If Mr. Bennett has no objections, it will be my pleasure to attend the opera with you both.”

Molly’s smile faltered. Garrett’s expanded.

“Then it’s settled,” the widow drawled, staring at him with that same shrewd expression as before. “I expect you to arrive at my home seven o’clock this evening.”

Finished issuing her command, she headed toward the door, but not before Garrett caught sight of her satisfied expression.

His eyes narrowed. Mrs. Singletary clearly had some secret scheme she was keeping to herself. Patient, wily in his own right, Garrett would discover what she was up to, eventually.

For now, he joined her in the middle of the room. “Is there anything else I can do for you this afternoon?”

“That will be all.” Head high, she swept into the hallway.

Garrett followed at a more sedate pace. Working with the widow might be just the break he needed to prove he was more than that “other Mitchell boy” or Fanny’s older brother. Ever since his sister’s engagement to his boss, Garrett had worked twice as hard to prove he’d been hired for his legal mind alone.

Apparently, he’d done just that, as evidenced by Mrs. Singletary’s stunning offer.

Back in their younger days, Molly had understood Garrett’s desire to make his own way in the world. She’d actually been the one to encourage him to pursue a career in the law. He remembered that now, and found himself softening toward her as he strolled back into his office.

When he drew alongside her and she climbed gracefully to her feet, he took her hand without hesitation. “Until tonight,” he murmured.

“Until tonight,” she repeated, then tugged on her hand.

Garrett held on tight. He wasn’t ready to let her go.

He’d never been truly ready to let her go.

Chapter Two

Molly had nearly reached the end of her endurance, and it was all because Garrett still grasped her hand in his. On the surface, the gesture was a common courtesy between two acquaintances. With the benefit of her glove as a barrier there should be nothing to cause her alarm. But this was the first time in seven years he’d taken her hand without hesitation.

She liked the unexpected familiarity of the gesture, liked it far too much.

Blinking hard, she struggled to maintain her composure. But his touch felt so good, so right. Time seemed to slow, past overlaying present. And, still, Garrett held on to her.

He moved a step closer and her mind grasped one lone thought. This was Garrett, the boy who used to put her at ease when no one else could. The one who had comforted her, treasured her. Loved her.

She’d once believed that God had brought them together at the perfect time, and that the Lord’s hand had been guiding them toward a common future all along.

She’d been terribly wrong. Their chance to be a couple had come and gone a long time ago.

So why wouldn’t Garrett release her?

And why wasn’t she insisting he let her go?

Surely Mrs. Singletary would say something to him, to Molly, anything to put a halt to this endless, endless moment. But Mrs. Singletary had already moved into the hallway and was speaking to someone in hushed tones.

Molly searched for words to fill the void, but nothing came to mind. They hadn’t spoken directly to one another in years, at least not in more than monosyllabic responses. All she could do now was force herself to breathe. Even that simple task proved nearly impossible.

At last, he let go of her hand and stepped back. His golden eyes swept over her, his features unreadable. Nevertheless, she found herself staring at him longer than necessary. The embroidered waistcoat he wore highlighted the unusual color of his eyes. Mitchell eyes. A warm blend of bronze, amber and gold.

Molly gritted her teeth. “Garrett...I...that is...”

His glance flicked to a spot over her shoulder. “Hello, Fanny.”

His sister was here? Relief nearly buckled her knees.

“Hello, Garrett.” A soft feminine voice returned his greeting, followed by a short pause. “Molly? Is that you?”

Desperate to put more distance between herself and Garrett, Molly spun around to face her friend. But she moved too fast and her legs tangled beneath her. She swayed backward.

Garrett’s hands clasped her shoulders from behind. “Easy now,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ve got you.”

His low voice steadied her. She closed her eyes a moment, only a moment, and reveled in the safe feeling that washed through her. I’ve got you.

Did he know how bittersweet those words sounded?

“Molly? Are you unwell?” Fanny asked. “You’ve gone quite pale.”

The concern in her friend’s voice had her quickly opening her eyes. “I’m perfectly fine.”

She stepped forward, away from Garrett, away from the burst of memories and wave of hope, and countless other emotions she couldn’t seem to control whenever she was in his presence. “I merely lost my balance for a moment.”

Fanny tilted her head at a curious angle. “Well, then, it was fortunate Garrett was here to catch you.”

Was it? Molly made a noncommittal sound in her throat, wondering why he was suddenly right where she needed him when he’d been so determined to avoid her before today.

As if to confuse her all the more, Garrett gave an equally dispassionate response to his sister’s comment.

Eyes widening, as if she suddenly realized the oddity of the two of them in each other’s company, Fanny looked from one to the other and back again. Her gaze filled with unasked questions.

Molly gave a quick shake of her head, willing her friend to keep her thoughts—and questions—to herself. At least until they were alone. Of all Garrett’s family, Fanny was the only one who knew how heartbroken Molly had been over his decision to leave her behind when he’d gone away to school.

“Did you need something from me?” Garrett asked his sister with the sort of gentle impatience only a devoted brother could pull off without offense.

“No. I’m here to see Reese—” she swallowed, broke eye contact, sighed heavily “—but Mrs. Singletary asked for a brief word with him.”

She scowled at her brother, as if sensing he was the cause for the interruption.

He merely smiled at her, which seemed to annoy Fanny all the more. “Don’t you have contracts to review, ledgers to balance, or some such work that requires your immediate attention?”

That earned her a dry chuckle. “I do.”

“Then I suggest you get back to it,” Fanny snapped, her tone unusually curt.

Garrett dipped his head at a curious angle, his only reaction, but a telling one from a man who never showed his inner thoughts to the world. It was obvious to Molly he was concerned about his sister. She was concerned about Fanny, too. Her friend seemed troubled about something.

As if sensing Molly was the best one to address the situation, Garrett gave a stiff nod of his head. “Ladies.”

Looking perplexed, and a little apprehensive, he moved reluctantly back toward his office, as if he wasn’t fully convinced leaving his sister in this state was a good idea. When he caught Molly’s eye, she gave him a short nod, a silent promise to take care of Fanny. He smiled then.

And she smiled, too.

For a moment, the hostility between them faded away to nothing more than a memory.

“I’ll see you later tonight,” he said.

“Yes, you will.”

Snatching a quick breath, he shut the door between them with a resounding click.

Molly dragged in her own swift pull of air.

Glancing at her friend to determine if she’d noticed the revealing interchange, Molly caught a look of utter distress upon Fanny’s face. Something was wrong.

“Fanny?” She touched her arm. “What is it?”

“Not here.” Glancing to her right, then her left, she pulled Molly down the hallway, tugging her along until they were tucked away in a small alcove off the reception area.

Molly took stock of her friend. She’d never seen Fanny so agitated, or so unhappy. Fanny was never unhappy. There was always a ready smile on her beautiful face, her inner light even brighter since her engagement to Reese. Fanny’s amber eyes and golden hair coupled with Reese’s classic, dark good looks made them a stunning pair. They turned heads wherever they went.

Molly was pleased her friend had found a good man to marry, truly she was. Except...

Right now, Fanny looked anything but the happy bride-to-be. In truth, she looked tense, confused. Worried. “Fanny? What’s happened to upset you so?”

Fanny twisted her hands together at her waist, drew her bottom lip between her teeth, then sighed. “Molly, if I ask you a question you must promise to answer me truthfully.”

“All right.”

“How did you know when it was time to call off your weddings?”

The question dragged painful memories to the surface. She wanted to run, to forget she’d ever been engaged, but she owed her friend the truth. “I didn’t actually call—”

“Was there a moment when you looked at either of your fiancés and thought he’s not the one I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with?”

Such a revealing question. “Oh, Fanny, are you having second thoughts about marrying Reese?”

“I...” Smoothing a shaky hand across her mouth, Fanny shut her eyes and groaned. “I don’t know what I’m feeling. I’m confused and...and...scared.”

“That’s understandable. Marriage is a big step.” Molly took her friend’s hands and gently squeezed. “It’s normal to have concerns.”

“Reese is a good man, the very best.” Fanny drew in a shuddering breath. “He gets along with my family, and I with his. But...”

“But...” Molly urged, letting go of Fanny’s hands.

“It’s nothing.” She crossed her arms at her waist. “I’m simply feeling weighed down over the wedding. The planning is getting out of hand, and I don’t want to let anyone down.”

What an odd choice of words.

“You could never let anyone down.” It wasn’t in her friend’s personality. “Everyone adores you, Fanny. Reese most of all.”

And why wouldn’t he? The woman was sweetly beautiful, well-educated, kind at the core. She never bent the rules, never made a mistake, never took a wrong step. Best of all, she’d met her counterpart in Reese.

“Your fiancé is fortunate to have you,” Molly said, believing it with all her heart. “You’re perfect for one another.”

“Yes.” Fanny nodded, then quickly looked away just as her eyes began to water. “So everyone keeps telling me.”

Yet another odd choice of words.

“Fanny, whenever I have a tough decision to make, and need to organize my thoughts,” she began, desperate to help her friend, “I apply a simple formula to determine if I’m making the right choice.”

“You always were gifted at mathematics.” Sniffing softly, a shadow of a smile on her lips, Fanny swiped at her eyes. “All right, Molly, I’m listening. What’s your latest formula?”

“Well, there are only four variables to this particular equation.” There were always only four. “First, start with prayer. Next, spend quiet time in the Bible. Number three, trust the Lord’s guidance. And, finally, most important of all, follow your heart.”

It was sound advice, Molly realized, a simple yet profound formula she needed to apply to her own life, especially now that it seemed her path would cross Garrett’s on a regular, nay daily, basis.

Step one. Start with prayer.

That’s exactly what she planned to do.

* * *

After carefully, firmly, resolutely shutting his office door in Molly’s face, Garrett had only one desire. Forget he ever touched her.

Battling unwanted emotion, he sank in the chair behind his desk and shut his eyes against the memory of Molly in his arms. The images came anyway. Both times she’d lost her balance, he’d instinctively reached for her, steadied her. The move had been as natural as taking his next breath. And for those brief moments, they’d been closer than they’d been in years, mere inches apart.

A mistake.

Memories long forgotten reared up, twining through the present, calling to mind all they’d once shared. Even now, the lingering scent of jasmine and sandalwood teased his senses, making him yearn to sweep Molly back into his arms, to start anew, to—

He cleared his throat.

Work. Garrett needed to concentrate on work, and not on Miss Molly Taylor Scott and what could never be again.

Rolling his shoulders, he repositioned the Phipps contract in front of him and picked up where he’d left off, halfway down the third page. Unfortunately, focus eluded him. And this time, it wasn’t only Molly that plagued his thoughts. Garrett couldn’t ignore the anxiety he’d caught on his sister’s face.

Fanny was not a woman prone to worry. She was a happy sort, always quick to smile, quick to laugh, ready to organize the next party. Something had clearly upset her. Garrett had to trust she would share whatever was bothering her with Molly. And that Molly would come to him if anything was truly wrong.

Nothing’s wrong.

Fanny was a grown woman of twenty-two, her future all but set. In six weeks’ time she would pledge her life to a good, decent man who cherished her beyond reason. Reese was everything Garrett could wish for his sister.

Nothing’s wrong, he told himself again and put Fanny out of his mind. Along with her beautiful, confounding friend. And all the other distractions battling for his attention.

He studied the words on the page, one sentence at a time, went on to the next and then the next. He pulled his focus in tight, filtered out everything around him. Garrett liked working alone, liked having only himself to count on—and to blame. Best that way. Less messy. Less complicated.

Focus, he ordered his wandering mind.

And he did just that, absorbing the legal language on the page as if it were as fundamental as air. It was exacting, meticulous work, and he let it consume him. This was why he’d come back to Denver—to work for this firm, overseeing business contracts, drawing up others.

Or so he told himself.

But that wasn’t completely true. He’d turned down a better position in St. Louis, one more suited to his skills, so he could be near family. He’d missed them. He’d missed...

No one else. Just his family.

Focus.

Once he was satisfied all was in order, he gathered the pages, stuffed the entire document inside a leather satchel and set it aside for his meeting tomorrow with Phineas Phipps.

He stood and rounded his desk, set on addressing the next pressing issue on his agenda—Mrs. Singletary and her unprecedented request.

Before he made it across the room, two hard raps came at the door, no more, no less. Reese’s signature knock.

“Excellent timing.” Garrett opened the door with a swift pull. “I was on my way to your office to discuss Mrs. Singletary’s business proposition.”

For a long moment the other man said nothing. He didn’t move, didn’t blink. The unnatural stillness in his stance was completely out of character, as was the cold silence.

Was he disturbed over Mrs. Singletary’s proposal? If he was, it would be out of character. Reese never begrudged another attorney’s chance to further his career. What’s good for one of us in this firm, he said often, is good for all of us. That philosophy was one of the reasons Garrett had joined the firm six months ago.

No, Reese shouldn’t have a problem with Garrett assisting the widow in the expansion of her business holdings. Something else had to be wrong. “Reese—”

“Come with me.”

Garrett nodded, even as his boss turned and headed down the hallway in swift, ground-eating strides.

Once they entered his office, Reese glanced over his shoulders. “Shut the door behind you.”

Garrett did as requested.

In silence, the other man moved behind his desk and sat. His brow creased in utter confusion, he clasped the back of his neck, circled his head and sighed heavily.

“Problem?” Garrett asked.

Reese’s jaw tightened. “You could say that.”

“Something to do with the firm?”

“No. I...” He trailed off, glanced out the window then back to Garrett. “I just spoke with Fanny.” He didn’t expand. He simply leaned back in his chair, eyes locked on a spot just over Garrett’s shoulder.

Sensing he wasn’t going to like what came next, he remained tactfully silent. But when Reese continued blinking at nothing in particular, Garrett pressed for more. “What did my sister have to say?”

Reese closed his eyes for a second and then opened them, his gaze sharply focused on Garrett now. Anger. Pain. Bafflement. All three glared out at him.

Garrett braced himself.

“Fanny broke off our engagement.”

“She...no.” Garrett exhaled roughly, completely astounded by the news. “That can’t be right.” He must have misunderstood, must have heard wrong.

“I assure you, it’s true.”

“But...” Garrett struggled for words. “She’s happy, really happy. She told me so.” Just the other day. She’d jumped into his arms and said, Oh, Garrett, I’m the most blessed woman in the world.

What had changed since then?

Something. Something she hadn’t shared with him. “What did Fanny say, exactly?”

Reese scrubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. “It wasn’t what she said so much as how she said it. She was upset, on the verge of tears. I’d never seen her like that, so...” He shuddered. “Emotional. She’s always been a steady sort, solid, even-tempered. I can’t fathom what’s put her off like this.”

None of what Reese said sounded like his sister. Not the Fanny that Garrett knew, at any rate.

“I asked her what was wrong,” Reese continued, “told her we’d work it out, together. ‘That’s what couples do,’ I said. It was as if she didn’t hear me. Or maybe she didn’t want to hear me.” He shook his head. “She just kept babbling, on and on and on, her words tumbling over one another. I could barely keep up.”

This time, Garrett spoke his thoughts aloud. “That doesn’t sound like Fanny.”

His mind kept returning to that particular point.

“No, it’s not,” Reese agreed. “She said we didn’t add up, those were the exact words she used.” He shook his head again. “We don’t add up, as if our relationship was nothing more than a mathematics equation that needed solving.”

Garrett’s blood turned cold. Ice-cold, but he remained silent, letting Reese talk.

“We don’t add up?” Reese pressed his lips into a grim line. “What sort of convoluted math was Fanny using?”

Garrett knew. God help them all, he knew.

How many times had he sat, mesmerized, as he listened to Molly applying one of her “formulas” to a personal problem? He used to find her process of applying mathematical equations to life’s troubles charming.

He wasn’t charmed now.

Garrett only had himself to blame for this disaster. He should have followed his instincts and spoken with his sister himself, rather than trust Molly to handle the problem.

“You and Fanny will work this out,” he said, determined to see it come to pass. “This is probably just a case of cold feet on her part.”

“I’m not so sure.” Angry shock leaped into Reese’s gaze. “She said she had to follow her heart.” Shadows swirled around his eyes, dark and dangerous. “Follow her heart,” he repeated, spitting out the words one by one. “What’s that supposed to mean anyway?”

“I have no idea,” Garrett admitted, feeling uneasy and puzzled over the phrase. Something tickled at the back of his mind, a distant memory, but he couldn’t capture the thought fully so he focused on what he could address. He would find out what was going on in his sister’s mind, from the source herself, sooner rather than later. In the meantime...

“Reese, don’t give up on Fanny. I’m sure she’ll be back, maybe even later today, retracting everything she said.”

“I don’t know, Garrett.” Reese inhaled a ragged breath. “She sounded quite convinced she was making the right decision.”

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Garrett would know more once he spoke with Fanny.

Naturally, he’d make certain she was all right first, and would determine she wasn’t hiding something about Reese that none of them suspected. If all was in order, and this turned out to be just a whim on Fanny’s part, well, then, Garrett would take it upon himself to talk some sense into her.

For now, he kept his face blank, even as he struggled with the suspicion that Molly’s interference may have played a role in this debacle. It was very likely that somehow, with her own brand of twisted logic, she’d influenced Fanny to break off her engagement—as she’d done twice herself.

If he was right, if he found out Molly had said or done something to cause Fanny to beg off, Garrett wouldn’t let her off easily. She wasn’t going to smile and simper and charm her way out of this one.

No. This time, Molly would answer to him.

Chapter Three

Molly found her parasol precisely where she’d left it earlier in the day, leaning against the building outside Mrs. Singletary’s favorite millinery shop. Breathing a sigh of relief, she picked it up and backed away.

“Oh.” She found her progress halted by a wall of solid muscle. “Oh.”

She jerked forward, stumbled awkwardly, dropped the parasol.

A familiar pair of hands secured her balance with a firm but gentle hold.

Molly froze, stunned by the realization that she knew who had a hold of her. Garrett.

Garrett. Even if he hadn’t prevented her previous fall earlier in the day, she recognized the clean, woodsy spice of his shaving soap.

Before she could thank him, he turned her slowly to face him.

Their gazes locked.

Her mouth went dry as dust. He was so unbelievably dashing, standing with that relaxed looseness he’d earned from years of riding the range on his family’s ranch.

They continued to stare at one another.

The bristling intensity of the moment seemed too deep to fathom. Garrett had a look on his face she hardly recognized. He was absolutely...furious. Furious, with her.

But why? What had she done?

Nothing, that’s what, which meant he was upset about something else, something that couldn’t possibly have to do with her. And yet, he was glaring at her as though she’d done him precise harm.

She lifted her chin, refusing to cower. Or be the one to break the silence first.

“What? No suitors clamoring for your attention this afternoon, no hordes of men enthralled by your startling wit?” He looked her over with an insolent, thorough glance. “You’re losing your touch, Molly.”

The aggravation in his voice slid a chill across the base of her spine. What had brought on this dark mood of his? Since when did Garrett care if she had admirers? So shocked by his behavior, it required several attempts before she could respond calmly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” His lips twisted. “We both know you take great delight in leading men around by the nose, then casting them aside when you’re through with them.”

“I most certainly do not.” Now he was just being mean. And that wasn’t like Garrett, past or present.

Why this antagonism? It seemed so...so...personal. There hadn’t been anything personal between them in years.

As the daughter of a seasoned lawman, Molly knew when to stand and fight, and when to beat a tactical retreat. The latter was in order, but Garrett still held her.

“Let me go,” she whispered, keeping her voice free of emotion. “Please.”

His hands abruptly released her. Palms facing forward, Garrett stepped back, though he kept his gaze locked with hers, watching her closely. “Where’s Mrs. Singletary?”

“Having tea with a friend.”

“Ah.” The answer seemed to satisfy him, but the anger was still there, simmering just beneath the surface.

She found her own anger rising to meet his. “I fear I am one full step behind. Tell me.” She kept her voice even, her tone as cool as his. “What have I done to offend you?”

Pulling in a deep breath, he looked away. She saw the conflict in him, the rough tug of emotion he struggled to keep under control. He shifted his stance. Shadows from the awning overhead curtained his face, hiding his eyes from her now.

“Fanny has broken off her engagement with Reese.”

“She—” Molly’s hand flew to her throat “—what?”

“You heard me.”

No. No, no, no. That couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. Thinking back to their last conversation, she sought to recall every word that had passed between them.

What had she said to her friend? Surely, Fanny hadn’t misunderstood her advice. “I need to speak with her.”

She set out down the sidewalk.

Garrett stopped her with a light grip on her arm. “She won’t see you.” He released his hold when she glanced pointedly at his hand. “Even Callie can’t get her to come out of her room and talk this over rationally.”

This was awful, absolutely terrible and so unlike her friend.

“Oh, Fanny,” Molly whispered softly. “What have you done?”

“What do you think she’s done? She’s followed your lead.”

Garrett blamed her for this? “I would never wish the pain of a broken engagement on anyone, not ever.”

“Is that so?” He didn’t seem convinced. “Then why did Fanny tell Reese that their union didn’t...add up?”

His words wrapped around her, replacing her previous sense of outrage with bone-deep guilt. “She...she actually said that, that she thought they didn’t...add up?”

“Let me guess.” Garrett towered over her, glaring down from his superior height. “You gave her one of your formulas to apply to her situation.”

Molly stiffened, but didn’t deny the accusation. She kept her head high, while her mind raced back to the alcove in the law firm.

You’re perfect for one another, she’d said to her friend. Fanny had agreed quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly. And then she’d said something altogether off-putting. So everyone keeps telling me.

Such a revealing response, and yet Molly hadn’t made the connection, not completely.

“What was the equation you gave her?” Garrett asked, his voice disturbingly patient. “I need to know exactly what you said if I’m going to fix this for her.”

Molly lifted her chin even higher. “I gave her a simple equation, with only four variables.”

“Four variables,” he repeated, his gaze softening for a split second as he inched closer. “Only four, like always?”

“Yes, like always.”

Her stomach did a slow, spiraling somersault. She remembered the times they used to walk the rugged land, hand in hand, discussing their plans for the future. It hurt to realize how close they’d once been and yet how far apart they were now. Their chance at happiness had come and gone, in its place only long intervals of loneliness.

“What were the variables?” Not waiting for her answer, he stepped back, looking pensive. She’d seen him like this too many times not to recognize that he was in planning mode.

At least his anger had dissipated a bit.

Sighing, Molly wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. “I told her to start with prayer.”

“A wise beginning,” he admitted, a bit reluctantly if his grudging tone was anything to go by.

“Then I said she should spend time in the Bible.”

“Sound advice.” He released a jagged breath. “And the third variable?”

“Trust in the Lord’s guidance, of course.”

“Of course.” He almost smiled at her then, not quite but almost. It gave her the courage to continue.

“And, lastly,” she squared her shoulders, “I told her...”

She broke off, pressed her lips tightly together and looked away, because now she knew why Fanny had broken off her engagement with Reese.

Clearly, her friend had been far more upset than she’d let on, and Molly hadn’t seen it. She hadn’t recognized that Fanny was deeply confused. In pain. Alone with her terrible doubts and concerns.

If only she had recognized the truth.

Would it have made a difference? No, she would have given her friend the same advice.

“Molly.” Garrett’s voice dropped to a whisper. “What was the fourth variable you gave my sister?”

She fought back a wave of sorrow, and maybe a little envy, knowing that Fanny had adopted the one part of the equation Molly had failed to apply to her own life.

Twice, she’d convinced herself the final variable wasn’t important. Twice, she’d lied to herself. Twice, she’d suffered the utter humiliation of abandonment by a man who had proposed and claimed to love her above all others.

“I told her to—”

“The exact words, Molly. Your exact words.”

“I said.” She stared into Garrett’s handsome, severe face with nothing but regret washing over her. “Follow your heart.”

* * *

Follow your heart.

Only as Molly pronounced those three perplexing words did Garrett realize why he’d been so uncomfortable hearing them in Reese’s office. She’d given him the exact same advice seven years ago, when he’d struggled over whether to become a full-time rancher like his brothers, or pursue a career in law.

Both avenues had appealed, for very different reasons. One had meant the comfort and safety of the known, of family. The other had called for a leap of faith, but had promised freedom from forever being labeled as that “other” Mitchell boy.

Although he was satisfied with his choice—now—Garrett had been torn back then. Molly had methodically broken down each choice with him, calling on Scripture to reinforce various points. In the end, she’d left the decision up to him, with one final word of advice. You must follow your heart, Garrett.

Follow his heart? What did that mean anyway? He still wasn’t sure.

If Molly had given him any indication she wanted him to stay home, he would have become a rancher in a heartbeat. No regrets. But she hadn’t asked. She’d let him walk away from her, and all the plans they’d made in secret.

You didn’t ask her to come with you, either. You didn’t ask her to wait for you.

No. She was supposed to fight for him, for them. But she hadn’t. So he’d left. Angry, hurt, miserable.

Pride. He’d had more than his share back then, probably still did. A trait he had in common with the lovely woman staring up at him.

Long day, he thought, rubbing a hand over his face. Long, never-ending day full of too much emotion and too many memories.

“Thank you, Molly. I appreciate your honesty.”

She opened her mouth to respond.

But Garrett wasn’t finished. “You have lent me considerable perspective on the situation.”

She sucked in a ragged breath, pushed it out inside a humorless laugh. “Have I, now?”

Her sarcasm made him wince. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he selected his next words carefully. “You can’t deny that your formula influenced Fanny’s decision.”

“You still blame me for her actions?” Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “After I just explained what I said to her?”

“I’m not blaming you...” He paused. “Not directly, at any rate. I’m merely pointing out your role in this unfortunate event.”

“My role in this unfortunate event.” She repeated his words very calmly, very deliberately through very tight lips.

Where was his finesse, Garrett wondered, his superior use of the English language? Exhaling slowly, he tried another tactic. “I’ve always believed, Molly, that one of your greatest gifts is your power of persuasion.”

Her eyes filled with skepticism.

“It’s true. Most people—” men especially “—can’t help but be swayed by your...” He searched for the right word. “Influence.”

Garrett certainly had never been able to resist her charms. He’d thought of her often over the past seven years. Even now, softened by their common purpose, he couldn’t take his eyes off the girl he’d once loved more than his youthful heart could bear.

“My...influence? You make me sound as crafty as Samson’s Delilah, or Potiphar’s wife at her most calculating. Or maybe—” she advanced on him, her jaw tight, her eyes flashing “—you think me as devious as Jezebel.”

Sarcasm. Hurt. So much of both were there in her narrowed gaze, in the stiff angle of her shoulders.

“It’s not a bad thing, you know, swaying people to your way of thinking.” For the most part, that’s how Garrett made his living. “Every person who meets you is better for the experience.”

“Even you, Garrett?”

“Especially me.” He prayed she heard the sincerity in his tone, the truth in his words. He never regretted loving Molly. He only regretted losing her, regretted not doing enough to win her heart once and for all.

“Look, what I’m trying to say is...” What? What was he trying to say? “I’m sorry for implying your words persuaded Fanny’s behavior in this matter. My sister can be stubborn when she gets something in her head.”

“That’s certainly true.” A beat passed. And then another. “Apology accepted.”

She lifted a careless shoulder as if the matter of his distrust was of little consequence, but the sadness in her eyes gave her away.

“Molly—”

“Stop talking, and let me think how to help Fanny.”

Yes, perhaps it was best to hold his tongue. For now.

He watched—in silence—as she wound a lock of shimmering black hair around her finger. Round and round and round. Until this moment, Garrett hadn’t allowed himself the luxury of looking at her, to really look at her without interruption and without thinking too hard about the consequences. She was still so beautiful, her features as delicate as a porcelain doll, as precious as fine china. There ought to be a law against that sort of beauty walking freely about town.

He cleared his throat.

The gesture seemed to spur her to action. Without another word, she set out in the direction of the boardinghouse where Fanny rented a room with their other sister, Callie.

Garrett followed, determined to prevent Molly from doing—or saying—something rash in the heat of the moment. Catching her in two long strides, he moved directly in her path.

She gave him a pointed look. “You are in my way.”

“I know.” He widened his stance.

“Ah.” Hands fisted at her sides, she jerked her chin at him. “I see you are in one of your stubborn moods.”

“Not even remotely.” In fact, he was trying very hard to remain calm, to think of Fanny, only Fanny. A nearly impossible feat with Molly standing so close, looking up at him with those big, striking, blue, blue eyes. Eyes that turned his brain to mush, still, after all these years.

“Let’s both try to be reasonable here.” He softened the suggestion with a smile.

“Reasonable?” She sniffed. “I’m not sure that’s possible.” But instead of continuing on her way, or expanding on her words, she leaned toward him, ever so slightly, eyes blinking rapidly up at him. She had more to say, he saw it in her troubled gaze, and knew he wasn’t going to like it.

Still, he waited, fascinated by the display of emotion on her face, the exotic curve of her lips, the slight tilt of her head. It was his turn to lean forward.

Step back, he told himself. You didn’t come home for this. You didn’t turn down the job in St. Louis for her.

He remained frozen on the spot, the sights and sounds of the busy street all but ignored, because this was Molly. Molly.

His first love. His only love.

The beautiful girl who had never truly been his.

For a split second he was slung back in time, when things were simpler between them and they could read each other’s thoughts. He moved a bit closer. Closer, closer...

He froze.

What was he doing? What was he thinking? He was descending on Molly, as if he was going to kiss her, out in the open, on a busy street, where anyone could see them if they were paying attention. Someone was always paying attention.

As if coming to a similar conclusion, Molly frowned, shifted to her left and resumed walking.

Garrett followed again, this time a few steps behind.

A block later, they arrived at Mrs. Agatha’s Boardinghouse for Women. An unassuming structure, the house was as plain as its proprietress. The three-story home, painted a dull gray, reminded Garrett of a woman’s dormitory on a college campus.

Like any housemother, Mrs. Agatha had strict rules of conduct for her residents. That, among other reasons, was why the family had been happy enough to see Fanny and Callie settle here while they worked at the Hotel Dupree, Fanny as a concierge and Callie in the kitchens.

Had it been wise to allow the girls to move off the ranch? Not that anyone could have stopped them. Well-educated, far too worldly after returning home from school out East, both had claimed they didn’t fit on the ranch anymore.

Molly, on the other hand, fit perfectly on the ranch. She fit just as well here in Denver. In truth, she fit everywhere, anywhere. He’d forgotten that about her, forgotten her ability to blend in wherever she went, and befriend whomever she met. Her inner light drew others to her. Garrett was no exception.

Heart lodged in his throat, he watched her stare up at the boardinghouse’s entrance. “We should formulate a plan,” he said, mainly to break the silence between them.

Although she’d given no indication she was aware of his presence, she didn’t seem surprised he’d spoken. “Oh, Garrett, I thought I was encouraging her when I gave her my four-step formula. Now, I’m not so sure. Then again—” a sigh leaked out of her “—if Fanny doesn’t love Reese enough to want to marry him, then maybe, maybe she’s making the right decision.”

Was she speaking from experience? Had Molly broken her own engagements because she hadn’t loved her fiancés enough to spend the rest of her life with them?

A pleasing thought, to be sure, one that sent an unexpected surge of relief spreading through him. Satisfaction, too.

Focus, Garrett. This isn’t about you, or Molly, or the past. “The important point is that my sister has changed her mind about Reese and we need to find out why.”

“Agreed.”

A rare moment of solidarity passed between them and they shared a brief smile. Turning as one, they commandeered the steps leading into the boardinghouse together. They progressed side by side, their movements perfectly in sync with one another. For an instant, they were back at a place of deep understanding, where words weren’t necessary between them.

The sensation brought on a spurt of hope, nearly breaking through Garrett’s cynical heart. Problem was he relied heavily on his well-honed cynicism to keep him from making a mistake. A mistake, such as, say...drawing Molly’s hand into his and forgetting all about their tumultuous history.

Don’t do it, he warned himself. Not a single glance in her direction. He lasted an entire three seconds.

Then, he turned his head.

She stole his breath, just as she had when he was a boy. Feeling boldly nostalgic, he reached out.

And...

Closed his hand over hers.

Chapter Four

Molly sucked in a breath, torn between tightening her grip around Garrett’s hand and yanking free of his touch. With him this close, holding on to her oh so casually, every sense was heightened to alarming proportions. Smells became stronger, colors brighter, sounds louder.

It was always this way with Garrett, she realized, despite the years of turmoil standing between them. Sadly, she couldn’t remain detached, not with his fingers tenderly entwined with hers, and his masculine, woodsy scent wafting over her.

Her throat constricted.

Panic reared.

Despair threatened.

She really, really needed to distance herself from the tall, handsome man who thought the worst of her one moment, and then pointed out her strengths the next. The same man who’d so easily walked away from her seven years ago.

Your time to be together has come and gone, she reminded herself. The Lord has a different plan for you both.

Precisely. No use wishing for what might have been at this point.

Let him go, she told herself.

Instead of pulling free, she clutched her fingers around his a little tighter. A dreaded show of weakness, to be sure.

When Molly paused at the entrance, and spared a look at their joined hands, Garrett finally released her. Yet he didn’t go far. As she entered the house and climbed up to the third floor where Fanny and Callie shared a room, Garrett kept close, only one step below. At least he didn’t touch her, or try to hold her hand again.

Small blessing, that. But then he did something equally disturbing. He placed his palm at the small of his back, gently guiding her forward.

Unbearable longing sharpened in her throat, and something else, something equally awful, something that felt like wistfulness.

Your chance to be together has passed. Why couldn’t she remember that important fact?

Frustrated with herself, with him—with them both—she treated him to a fierce scowl. He dropped his hand.

Molly resumed her ascent.

This time, Garrett joined her step for step. From beneath her lashes, she took in every angle of his once-beloved face. He’d changed. Gone was the lean, almost lanky physique, replaced by broad shoulders, long legs, corded muscles and sun-bronzed skin. The latter was proof he spent time outdoors, working on the family ranch when he made the trip home.

“Through with your inspection?” he asked in an amused tone.

She suppressed a sigh. “Must you be such a...a...man?”

“I’m not sure how to answer that.”

“It was a rhetorical question.”

“Naturally.” A grin spread across his lips, teasing, almost flirtatious.

Telling herself the flutter in her stomach was due to physical exertion, she completed the rest of the climb. The moment her foot hit the third-floor landing, she whirled to face him again.

With him two stairs below, they stood nose to nose, neither moving, neither breathing. One shift on her part, one step on his and their lips would touch. Bad, bad idea.

She lowered her gaze.

He pressed his fingertip beneath her chin and applied gentle pressure until she looked him in the eye once more. “What’s wrong?”

Did he really have to ask?

“Molly.” He spoke her name on a whisper, his gaze full of remorse. “I’m sorry I accused you of encouraging Fanny to break her engagement.”

“Are you?”

“Beyond words.” He leaned over her, all six feet two inches of him, and rested his hand on her shoulder. “But I’m thankful we’re together now.”

Was he? “Why?”

“With the two of us working in tandem we’ll uncover what’s really behind Fanny’s decision to break up with Reese.”

He spoke with such confidence, as if they were a single unit, a team, stronger together than apart. She thought of a favorite Bible verse from Ecclesiastes, the one she’d once dreamed would be recited at their wedding. Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour.

It was hard not to sigh, but Molly had a lot of practice controlling her emotions around Garrett. “I’m glad, too.”

She spoke the simple truth.

He pulled his hand away from her shoulder. As before, they turned toward the door as a, well, a single unit. Two are better than one.

She gave in to that sigh, after all.

Rolling his shoulders, Garrett lifted his hand to knock.

The door flew open before he made contact.

“At last, you’ve come.” Callie, the older of the two sisters by a year, spoke directly to Molly. She hadn’t noticed Garrett yet. Or perhaps she’d chosen to ignore him for now.

Either way, Molly did her best to smile at her friend.

In return, Callie gave her a shaky lift of her lips. The gesture didn’t quite reach her eyes. Upon closer scrutiny, Molly noted her friend looked uncharacteristically ruffled. Her pretty, oval face was flushed. Her green eyes, usually so bright, were dimmed with worry, and her hair was in disarray, with several blond locks fluttering around her ears.

“Is Fanny still in her room?” Molly tried to hide her concern behind a bland tone.

Callie nodded her head in resignation.

“Well, then, let’s see if we can coax her out of there.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be of much help.” Something uncomfortable shifted in Callie’s eyes. “She’s not feeling especially charitable toward me at the moment.”

“Not to worry, Cal. When Molly said we—” Garrett stepped forward, drawing his sister’s attention “—she meant her and me.”

“Oh. Right. Garrett...you’re back.” Callie’s shoulders relaxed, then stiffened again. “Wait. Now wait just a minute. You and Molly are here...” Her gaze darted between them. “Together?”

Her reaction came as no surprise. Still, Molly shared a look with Garrett. He flattened his lips in a grim line. She did the same. They drew a collective breath.

“Oh, honestly, Callie.” She choked out what she hoped was a mild, casual laugh. “Garrett and I have done nothing out of the ordinary by arriving here together.”

“I beg to differ.” Eyes wide, Callie divided a look between them. “It’s completely out of the ordinary for you two to be together, under any circumstances.”

Well, yes, that was true. But still...

Molly flicked a glance at Garrett. Quiet, calm, expression impassive, he appeared perfectly willing to let her carry the conversation.

So be it. “For Fanny’s sake, Garrett and I have agreed to join forces—this once.”

Molly emphasized the last two words, reminding herself she had a point to make. A very large point. It wouldn’t do for Callie, or Garrett, or even Molly herself, to assume matters between them were resolved simply because they shared a common purpose here today.

Too much stood between them—spoken and unspoken—hovering under the tense surface that she was taking great pains to ignore.

As was Garrett.

Molly glanced at him again, arched an eyebrow, waited.

He shot her a half smile then, finally, addressed his sister directly. “The point isn’t that Molly and I have arrived together, but that we have come to speak to Fanny. Not you.”

Callie scowled at her brother, opened her mouth to speak then clamped her lips shut and sighed. “Then you better come with me.”

She entered the suite. Garrett and Molly followed her inside.

Narrow and cramped, the tiny foyer barely had enough space for all three of them, especially with Garrett’s larger-than-life aura stealing all the available air.

Thankfully, Callie continued into the front parlor without breaking stride. Molly joined her, pleased to discover the room was still as warm and cozy as she remembered, welcoming even, much like the women who called this tiny space home.

The large, overstuffed furniture and flowered wallpaper offered a pleasant contrast to the stark, whitewashed beams in the sloped ceiling. Off to the left was Callie’s bedroom. The room next to it belonged to Fanny.

Pushing past both women, Garrett strode to Fanny’s closed door. He banged with two hard raps.

No response.

“Fanny, open up.” He knocked again. “It’s Garrett.”

Still no response.

Frowning, he stared straight ahead with a narrowed gaze, as if by sheer force of will he could make Fanny obey his command.

“I brought Molly with me.” Male frustration rolled off him in waves, but his tone remained conversational. “She’s eager to speak with you.”

More silence.

“Fanny.”

“Go away, Garrett.” The muffled reply came from just behind the door, as if Fanny had her forehead pressed to the wood.

He fisted his hand again, drew in several breaths then uncurled his fingers. Muttering to himself, he began pacing. A black weight seemed to settle on his shoulders.

Molly tried not to watch him move, tried not to see the boy she’d once loved inside the man he’d become. It was hopeless, of course. Whenever Garrett was near, she rarely saw anything but him.

She tracked his progress through the room. The hint of a swagger clung to him as naturally as the year-round snow on the mountain peaks. Garrett’s cowboy upbringing was written all over him, as natural as the innate integrity and strong sense of family all the Mitchell brood possessed.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into my sister,” Callie whispered to Molly in a low tone, her gaze tracking her brother’s movements. “She’s acting irrational. And I...that is, I...”

Letting her words trail off, she pressed her lips tightly together, sighed unhappily.

Garrett’s feet ground to a halt. “What have you done, Callie?”

She took a shuddering breath. “It’s not what I did. It’s what I said.”

Molly touched the other woman’s arm. “I’m sure it wasn’t anything too terrible.”

“Oh, it was bad all right. I really upset her. But I don’t regret a thing I said, not one thing.” Callie lifted her chin in an unexpected show of rebellion. “Someone needed to talk some sense into that stubborn girl. Why not me?”

“What did you say to her, Callie?” Garrett’s voice held remarkable patience, even though his eyes grew dark with banked emotion.

“I said—”

“She told me I’d made a grave mistake.” The reply came from the open doorway where Fanny stood glaring at her sister. Eyes red-rimmed and puffy, she wrapped her arms around her waist in a defensive gesture. “She warned that if I didn’t ask for his forgiveness, I would lose Reese forever.”

That didn’t sound too terrible, Molly decided, especially since it was partly true, assuming Fanny still loved Reese.

“She also called me...” Blinking rapidly, Fanny’s bottom lip trembled. “Stupid.”

Oh, dear.

“I didn’t call you stupid.” Callie snorted in disgust. “I said you were stupid to let Reese go.”

At this, Fanny’s eyes glazed over, giving her a lost, dejected look. Tears wiggled to the edges of her thick lashes but she bravely held them in check.

“Reese is a good man.” Callie jammed her hands on her hips, her earnest tone emphasizing her words. “He’s decent and loyal. You won’t find another like him.”

“If he’s so wonderful, you marry him.”

“He wants you, Fanny. It’s you he’s in love with.” Callie took a step closer. “Can’t you see the blessing in that?”

“Can’t you stay out of it?”

The two squared off, nose to nose. Standing there, staring at one another with an identical turbulent expression in their eyes, the similarities between the sisters were impossible to miss. They were of a comparable height, equal build, and tilted their heads at a common angle. Although Fanny was considered the great beauty of the family, Callie had her own appeal, less pronounced perhaps, but there all the same.

Before Molly could intervene, Garrett moved between his sisters.

A head taller than both, he placed a hand on each of their arms. “Is there something you aren’t saying?” He addressed Fanny directly. “Something less than honorable we should know about Reese?”

“What?” Both women gasped simultaneously and ripped free of his hold.

Unmoved by their shocked response, Garrett persisted. “Has Reese done something to make you question his character, Fanny? Has he hurt you in any way?”

“Hurt me? No, Garrett. No. How could you ask such an awful thing?”

“How could you even suspect something so vile?” Callie’s outrage matched her sister’s. “You won’t find a better man than Reese Bennett, Jr.”

Despite being outnumbered, Garrett showed no remorse over his line of questioning. If anything, he seemed to grow fiercer, looking very much like a protective older brother. “If Reese has hurt you, Fanny, and you’re protecting him for some reason, you need to tell me. If he—”

“Don’t you dare utter another word.”

Ignoring the warning, Garrett opened his mouth. Fanny cut him off again. “Reese has always behaved above reproach. He’s the best man I know. He’s absolutely—” a sob slipped out of her “—perfect.”

She made the word sound ugly, which only managed to rile her sister all the more. “If Reese is so wonderful,” Callie challenged, “then why break off your engagement with him?”

Fanny lowered her head. “I have my reasons.”

“Which are?”

“None of your business.”

The two went toe-to-toe again.

“Callie, step back.” Sighing, Garrett gently edged her aside then focused solely on Fanny.

Speaking slowly, calmly, as he would to a spooked horse, he whispered words of encouragement, all the while pressing for details. But no matter what he said, or how he said it, she refused to respond.

His voice dropped another octave. “Can’t you see I’m trying to help you?”

She promptly burst into tears.

Wincing, he glanced at Molly. A mix of resignation and uneasiness flickered in his eyes, a look that read utter masculine helplessness. Garrett had never been good with female tears, especially when the crying woman was someone he loved. It was another trait he shared with his brothers.

“Fanny, please. Don’t cry.” He pulled her into his arms, patted her back awkwardly. “Everything’s going to work out.”

She muttered something incomprehensible into his shoulder.

He closed his eyes a moment. “No, you’re not alone in this. You have your family, your friends and, of course, the Lord. You can lean on us.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It can be, with a little trust on your part.” He set her away from him, but kept his hands on her shoulders. “Help me to understand what’s made you change your mind about Reese.”

“I already did. He’s—” she released a choking sob “—perfect.”

Garrett chuckled mildly. “We live in a fallen world. No man is perfect.”

“Reese is,” Fanny whispered glumly. “Even worse, he thinks I’m equally perfect.”

There was that word again, spoken in that same dismal tone. So telling, so illuminating.

Garrett captured Molly’s gaze over Fanny’s head. At his arched eyebrow she arched one of her own. Didn’t he understand what his sister was saying?

Molly certainly did. She understood what it meant to fall short of others’ expectations. And now, she knew what she had to do.

“I want to speak privately with Fanny,” she said, looking pointedly at Garrett then widening the arc of her gaze to include Callie.

Callie immediately started to protest, but Molly cut her off with a firm shake of her head. She expected Garrett to balk, as well. He simply stared at her in measured silence.

Memories settled over her, her mind returning to a time when he trusted her without reservation. What would it be like to have him rely on her again, if only a little?

“Perhaps that’s not a bad idea,” he acknowledged, setting Fanny away from him, “but only if that’s what you want.”

Fanny nodded. “Yes, I want to speak to Molly. Alone.”

Despite being dismissed, he was calm, stoic, full of uncompromising integrity and strength. “If you continue down this path—” he took his sister’s hands in his, held her stare “—others will have to be told of your decision.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“All right, then.” He released her and settled his gaze on Molly. “Walk me out.”

Before she could respond, he hooked his arm through hers and ushered her onto the third-floor landing. “She’s hiding something from us, something important.”

Perhaps. Perhaps not. Molly would know more once she spoke with Fanny.

“If this is merely a matter of cold feet—”

“It’s more than that.”

“I’m afraid you’re right.” Garrett rubbed the back of his neck, shifted his gaze to meet hers. “Since she’s made it perfectly clear she doesn’t want to discuss this with me or Callie, I’m counting on you to uncover the truth.”

“I’ll get her to talk,” she promised.

“I believe you will.” He turned to go then swung back around. “I’ll expect a full report later this evening.”

“This evening?”

“We’re attending the opera together. With Mrs. Singletary.” He punctuated the statement with a frown.

At his gloomy expression, Molly bit back a smile. Garrett hated the opera. Actually, he disliked all forms of theater, while she reveled in the drama of any production that required a stage and a troupe of performers.

Their vastly different opinions had been the source of their first argument. And, if memory served, the provocation that led to their first kiss.

Refusing to dwell on that thought, she cleared her face of all expression and became graciousness itself. “You’ll get your report. I won’t leave out a single detail.”

His eyes widened.

Oh, honestly. Did he think her completely incapable of agreeable behavior? Even after their unspoken truce?

Insulted, she pivoted around and, without uttering another word, left him to stare after her retreating back.

Let him think whatever he wished about her abrupt departure. Molly had a friend in need. At the moment, nothing mattered more than that.

Chapter Five

Garrett grimaced at the look he caught on Molly’s face, right before she turned her back on him. He’d offended her, somehow, when that hadn’t been his intent.

Rather than demand an apology, as she would have done in the past, she simply walked away from their conversation. Head high, chin tilted at a jaunty angle, she showed no real signs of temper. Yet, when she shut the door behind her with a firm click, her message was unmistakable.

Garrett was dismissed.

Torn between exasperation and amusement, he tunneled his fingers through his hair.

The afternoon was turning out to be a strange one. Indeed, nothing was as expected. There was Fanny with her uncommon tears and drama, Molly with her lack of either. In a matter of hours, his well-ordered, predictable world had tilted slightly off-center.

As if matters weren’t confounding enough, Callie joined him on the landing, a frustrated scowl on her face. “I’ve been banished from my own home.”

“Don’t look so tragic, Cal.” Her annoyance sent a slow smile curving across his mouth. “You earned your dismissal.”

She visibly stiffened. “I most certainly did not!”

“No? You were unusually harsh with our sister. That’s not typical of you.”

With exaggerated dignity, her spine snapped straighter still. “I don’t regret my behavior here today.”

He held silent for effect.

“All right, yes.” She gathered in a tight breath, let it out slowly. “I suppose I could have been more delicate in my delivery.”

“You suppose?”

Her lower lip wobbled. And then—God save him—her eyes filled with tears. Just what the afternoon needed, another bout of unchecked female emotion.

Too much for one day.

If he were a wise man, Garrett would head down the stairwell, exit the boardinghouse and just keep walking.

He remained firmly in place, watching Callie, waiting for her to pull herself together. Unlike Fanny, this sister wouldn’t welcome any outward show of sympathy from him.

After a moment of eye blinking and steady breathing, she morphed into the cagey fighter he knew her to be—and smoothly turned the conversation back on him.

“You and Molly, overly polite with one another, acting as if there’s no history between you. I want an explanation. A real one, this time.”

Holding on to his patience, barely, he rubbed a hand over the stubble of a late-day beard coming in. “Haven’t we been through this already?”

“Yes, and we’ll continue to revisit the topic until I get a reasonable answer out of you.”

Of that, he had no doubt. Once his ornery sister had an idea in her head, she never let go. “It’s just as Molly said earlier. We joined forces for Fanny’s sake.”

“How very noble of you both.”

A portion of his patience edged into annoyance. “Save the sarcasm, Callie, it’s not helping, nor is it productive. In fact—”

She talked right over him. “I can’t think of a time in the past six months since you’ve been home that I’ve seen you and Molly in the same room, much less conversing with one another beyond monosyllables.”

She was right, of course. Since taking the position at Bennett, Bennett and Brand, Garrett had made every effort to avoid Molly, and she him. With both of them working toward a common goal, they’d reaped remarkable success, managing to circumvent one another as efficiently as possible.

That had changed today. Even without Fanny’s situation to bring them together, Mrs. Singletary had tapped Garrett to work with her directly. Which meant he and Molly would cross paths far too often.

He exhaled sharply.

“Garrett, I asked you a question.”

Another ripple of annoyance shred what little patience he had left. “No, you made a statement.”

She rolled her eyes. “I see you’re going to be difficult. So let me speak frankly.”

“Never a good idea,” he muttered.

She ignored the barb. “Why—no, how—did you and Molly end up arriving here together? The truth, Garrett. I won’t accept anything less.”

Short of muzzling her, he might as well give his tenacious sister what she wanted. “It’s not complicated,” he explained. “When you and I couldn’t talk Fanny out of her room, I went in search of Molly.”

“Because?”

“I wanted answers and I thought she had them.”

“Why would you think Molly knew any more than we did?”

“I believed she’d been the one to influence Fanny’s decision.”

Callie gasped. “You didn’t actually accuse Molly of such a terrible thing?”

He shrugged. “Her history speaks for itself.”

“Garrett, Garrett, Garrett.” Callie shook her head in obvious disapproval. “You really don’t know her at all.”

Oh, he knew her. Or rather, he thought he knew her. He wasn’t sure anymore. And that left him even more agitated than before. If he’d been wrong about Molly in this situation, was he wrong about her in other ways as well? Was he prejudging her unnecessarily without gathering all the facts?

“Maybe I don’t know her as well as I thought,” he conceded.

With far too much perception in her gaze, Callie studied him out of narrowed eyes.

Garrett braced for one of her lectures. But she surprised him by switching topics again. “What are we going to do about Fanny? I can’t bear to watch her ruin her life.”

This abrupt change of subject gave Garrett pause. Callie was trying to tell him something, something personal, perhaps. But what? What was going on inside that complicated mind of hers? He could simply ask, but he suspected she wouldn’t answer him candidly.

Besides, the day was slipping away and he had a lot of work still to do.

“We can’t help Fanny until we know more,” he said reasonably.

“I guess not.” Callie released a resigned sigh. “Let us pray Molly can convince her to see reason.”

He nodded.

But then Molly’s words came back to him with alacrity. If Fanny doesn’t love Reese enough to want to marry him, then maybe, maybe she’s making the right decision.

Pulling out his watch, he flipped open the lid and read the time. “I need to get back to the office.” He refocused on Callie, then glanced around the darkened landing. “Will you be all right if I leave you here alone?”

Her withering glare was answer enough. Right, his mistake—Callie was a grown woman of twenty-three, more than capable of taking care of herself in her own home.

“I’ll try to stop by again soon,” he said. “If not later this afternoon, then tomorrow at the latest.”

“Will you speak to Reese after you return to the office?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps.”

Her eyes went cool, accusatory.

“Stop looking at me like that. For all I know, he might have already left for the day.” Though Garrett doubted it. Reese was nothing if not dedicated to his work.

Maybe she’s making the right decision...

He heard Callie say something more, something about his duty as an older brother to his hurting sister, but Garrett had already started down the stairs. He waved a hand in farewell, exited the boardinghouse. And just kept walking.

* * *

“It occurs to me,” Molly said to Mrs. Singletary as they awaited Garrett’s arrival in the blue parlor later that evening, “that a night at the opera is an odd place to begin your business association with Mr. Mitchell.”

The more she thought on the matter the more she realized how truly out of character the request had been. There could be no opportunity to discuss their plans, or any other business for that matter. That left one glaring reason for the invitation.

Mrs. Singletary was, indeed, playing matchmaker. With Molly and Garrett as her current victims, er...beneficiaries.

Molly stifled a groan. She couldn’t fall for Garrett again. She’d given far too much of herself to him once before, only to suffer unspeakable heartache. There’d been no letters once he’d gone away to school, no contact when he’d come home on breaks and certainly no cause to hope he’d change his mind about them.

As time and distance had brought healing, Molly had moved on with her life. Or so she’d always thought. Today had shown her that a part of her would always belong to Garrett. He’d been her first love, her first kiss, her first everything. There was no erasing that sort of shared history.

However, that didn’t mean she was willing to open her heart and let him trample on it again.

“Nonsense, my dear, his joining us this evening makes perfect sense.”

Did it? Molly had her doubts.

Calm as you please, Mrs. Singletary picked up her enormous cat and set the animal on her lap. Weighing in at nearly twenty pounds, Lady Macbeth’s fluffy black-and-white fur spilled over the edges of the chair.

While stroking the cat’s back, the widow slid a look at Molly out of the corner of her eye. “Aside from getting to know the young attorney better, this is an opportune time for you and Mr. Mitchell to become more comfortable in one another’s company.”

Decidedly uncomfortable, Molly’s stomach dipped at the prospect of spending the evening with Garrett. She was already on edge after her conversation with Fanny. Her friend had explained herself in excruciating detail, sharing reasons Molly understood all too well. And that brought her back to Mrs. Singletary’s frustrating, albeit well-meaning, interference in her life.

“You want me to become more comfortable with Mr. Mitchell, nothing more?”

“It’s as simple as that.”

Possible. But not probable.

Unable to stand still any longer, Molly moved restlessly through the elegantly decorated room. She wove a path around the brocade furniture and randomly placed tables adorned with priceless trinkets. Her footsteps caught the rhythmic ticking of the large grandfather clock Mrs. Singletary had purchased on her last trip to London.

Unfortunately, the slow, soothing cadence did nothing to ease Molly’s agitation. “Why is this so important to you?”

For all intents and purposes, she’d called her employer’s bluff. Would Mrs. Singletary admit to her plan now, or continue to play coy?

“I saw the stiff way you two interacted with one another this afternoon. If Mr. Mitchell and I are to work closely together, it’s essential you and he smooth out your differences before we begin.”

Molly should have guessed the observant woman would have noticed the charged atmosphere in the man’s office. “Garrett and I aren’t at odds with one another, if that’s what you’re implying.”

It was shameful, really, how familiar Molly had become with lying in the past few months, a flaw that didn’t speak well of her character. She should draw up a formula for cleansing her jaded soul. She would spend more time in the Word, of course. And—

“So it’s Garrett now, not Mr. Mitchell?” The other woman smiled craftily, her dark eyes warm and full of steely purpose.

Oh, Mrs. Singletary was a slick one. Unmistakable resolve was in her eyes now, just behind that matchmaker gleam. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I—”

“What is it you think I’m trying to do, dear?”

“You are attempting to help me find my one true love.”

“Am I?” The question sounded as smooth as cream wrapped inside the woman’s innocent tone.

“Mrs. Singletary, please, no more pretense.” Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. “You have made no secret of the fact that you believe every person has only one soul mate.”

“I do indeed believe that, yes,” she agreed without an ounce of remorse. “But in my observation, only a blessed few find one another on their own. Most couples need a nudge in the proper direction.”

Not Molly and Garrett, for one very simple reason. “We are not one another’s soul mate.”

“Do you deny having feelings for the man?”

“I’ve known him all my life,” she hedged, swiveling away and taking another turn around the room. “Of course I care about him. He’s the brother of my dearest friends.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Absorbing the fact that the older woman cared enough to want to see her happily settled, Molly stopped walking and closed her eyes. She adored Mrs. Singletary, truly she did, and was ever grateful to be in her employ. But this madness had to end.

“You are focusing your efforts in the wrong direction. Garrett and I will never be more than friends.”

Mrs. Singletary arched a brow. “You seem convinced. Is there more to the story you aren’t telling me?”

Oh, there was definitely more. But Garrett would be arriving any moment. Molly couldn’t risk him walking in during a retelling of their tumultuous past.

“Mrs. Singletary, I can’t...I’m not...” Think, Molly. There has to be a way to forestall her matchmaking attempts. “That is, I’m not ready to find my one true love.”

To her utter humiliation, tears welled in her eyes.

“Oh, my dear girl.” Mrs. Singletary set the cat on the floor and hurried over to pull Molly into her arms. “I’ve upset you.”

Molly wanted to push free of the widow’s hold. She wanted to claim she was fine, just fine.

But she wasn’t fine at all.

Her discussion with Fanny had reminded her of her own failures, of all her lost dreams and vanquished hopes.

She felt so terribly alone, exposed and raw. Vulnerable, even, as if God Himself had abandoned her.

Sensing Molly’s fragile state, Lady Macbeth rubbed against her leg, a purring, furry ribbon winding around the hem of her dress.

Still holding on tight, Mrs. Singletary gave her a little squeeze. “I would never push you into another romance if I didn’t believe you were ready.”

“I’m not ready.”

“Oh, but you are. You only need a little courage and a bit of faith. God has a distinct plan for your life, and I’m determined to see it come to pass.”

The tears in her eyes trickled to the edges of her lashes. She refused to let them fall. Not in the company of this woman, or anyone else.

It was her own fault she had to bear this secret pain in silence. She’d let everyone believe she’d been the one to break her engagements. As a result, even her own family feared she couldn’t follow through on a promise.

This, she decided, this lack of faith in her character was what came from telling lies. Lies born of pride.

“Molly.” Mrs. Singletary set her away from her. “As the Apostle Paul advises, we must strain toward the future, rather than dwell on the past.”

“I never look back.”

She braced for a lightning bolt, a crash of thunder, something to show God’s displeasure in her. She heard nothing but the incessant ticking of the clock. Slow, melodic, sounding very much like a name. Gar-rett. Gar-rett. Gar-rett.

How would she bear seeing him tonight? In his company her mind wanted to relive old regrets.

There had been moments this afternoon, when he’d stood so close and she’d caught his familiar scent, that she’d felt a spark of hope. The encounter had brought back memories, memories she’d shoved to the dark corners of her mind.

“I will ask you this only once, my dear, and then we won’t speak of it again.” Mrs. Singletary reached out and grasped both of her hands. “Are you absolutely certain you won’t have a problem with Mr. Mitchell working with me, here, in this home?”

“Of course not.” Determined to make her words come true, she added with more conviction, “You’ve chosen well. Garrett is the most capable man I know. He won’t let you down.”

It was the simple truth. Garrett met all of Molly’s criteria for a man of integrity, her formula deceptively simple. He had to be a devoted follower of the Lord, good at heart, brilliant of mind, authentic to the core.

“I would never wish for you to be unhappy.” The widow squeezed Molly’s hands. “I’ve grown quite fond of you.”

Molly smiled, really smiled. “And I you.”

“You would tell me if you were uneasy with this arrangement?”

“Absolutely.” She inwardly cringed, reminded yet again how quickly fibbing had become a part of her character. Thankfully, she was spared from further soul-searching when Mrs. Singletary’s manservant, Winston, entered the room.

Standing at attention, he made his announcement with a dignified flourish. “Mr. Garrett Mitchell has arrived.”

“Thank you, Winston.” Mrs. Singletary released Molly’s hands. “Please send him.”

He sketched a bow. “Very good, madam.”

The moment the butler turned, the clock began chiming the hour.

Of course Garrett would arrive on time. Trying not to sigh, Molly shut her eyes and battled a wave of emotion, only to open them again and find him striding across the ornate rug. He headed straight for her, his golden, tiger eyes unreadable in the dim light.

Trapped in the moment, she drank in the sight of him. He’d shaved recently, his face free of stubble now. He wore elegant evening attire, perfectly appropriate for a night at the opera. The pristine white of his starched shirt stood in stark contrast to the black of his tailored coat and vest.

Halfway across the room, his eyes captured hers. And held.

An unwelcome jolt of longing crawled up her spine and landed in the center of her heart.

Molly’s reaction was the same whenever he was near. Her mind raced. Her thoughts scrambled.

Her vision blurred.

This evening, she had no route of escape, no pressing matter awaiting her in another part of the house.

She was trapped, good and truly trapped.

Panic reared, morphed into a far more complicated emotion. Anticipation. Something different flickered in Garrett’s eyes tonight, something that spoke solely to her. Something she didn’t dare name.

The questions were there, too, questions about his sister’s situation. He wanted to know what Fanny had confessed to Molly in private.

He wasn’t going to like what she had to relay. But would he understand?

She briefly wondered if she could withhold the information from him, and decided the point was moot. If Garrett Mitchell wanted answers, he would get them. His resolve to help his sister was just that strong.

Because of that, Molly’s fondness for the man went up a notch, putting her heart at greater risk than ever before.

Chapter Six

Caught inside Molly’s stare, Garrett nearly tripped over his own two feet. Exquisite in a gown of dark blue silk and silver lace, the modern cut emphasized her trim figure, while the unique color combination made her eyes take on a full shade lighter than usual. The effect was striking.

She was stunning from every angle. The exotic curve of her lips, the shy tilt of her head, called to him.

He took a step closer.

When he nearly stumbled again, he broke eye contact and looked down. A monster ball of black-and-white fur had taken up residence at his feet, hindering further progress.

The creature looked like a cat. But Garrett had never seen one quite so large. Or so fat. A moment more of staring through that mean, narrowed gaze, and the animal crouched low. It swished the fluffy plume of a tail, crouched lower still, danced on its hind quarters and then...

Launched its massive body into the air, landing smack in the middle of Garrett’s chest.

He staggered under the blow, arms instinctively wrapping around the mound of fur. After his own awkward dance, Garrett caught his balance. Frozen in place, he and the beast eyed one another for a taut moment.

A slow blink on his part, another swish of the bushy tail on the cat’s and then the purring began—loud, guttural, uninhibited.

“Garrett Mitchell.” Smiling broadly, Mrs. Singletary peered around his shoulder. “Meet Lady Macbeth.”

The widow had named her pet after one of the most heartless female murderers in all of fiction? Wary now, he angled his head and studied the enormous cat with careful focus. Certainly big enough to be a killer.

Did she have the heart of one, too?

Mrs. Singletary answered his unspoken question on a laugh. “Any mouse in a two-mile radius is doomed.”

“Ah.” He chuckled along with her. “So the Lady earns her keep.”

“And then some.” This last statement came from Molly, spoken in an amused tone as she reached around him and scratched the cat behind the ears. “She likes you.”

Trying to decide if that was a good thing or not, Garrett shifted the animal in his arms.

The purring took on an unrestrained edge.

“She really likes you.”

Arms overflowing with giant kitty, he answered in his best philosophical tone. “I guess we can add cat wrangler to my list of various talents.”

“So it would seem.”

They shared a laugh. It felt surprisingly good to enjoy the moment with Molly, like old times. But as those big, expressive blue eyes held his a moment too long, his breath clogged in his throat. The impact of all that beauty was like a gut-punch.

“My sweet girl doesn’t usually like men.” Retrieving her cat, Mrs. Singletary looked from him to Molly and then back again. “You are a rarity, Mr. Mitchell.”

Sensing an undertone in her words, Garrett’s smile tightened. “Am I?”

“Of course. My cat is an excellent judge of character, don’t you agree, Molly?”

When she sniffed in response, Garrett’s shoulders stiffened.

Mrs. Singletary laughed outright.

“I wish to leave for the opera at once.” After a quick kiss to the cat’s head, she set the animal on the floor then retrieved her reticule off a nearby table. “I prefer to arrive early whenever possible.”

“Whatever you desire.” Garrett gave her a short bow of his head. “I am your humble servant for the entire evening.”

“Wonderful.”

He offered her his arm, turned to Molly and, after only a slight hesitation, offered her the other. “Shall we?”

They left the house in companionable silence.

Not more than a half hour later, Garrett escorted the women into the recently finished Tabor Grand Opera House. They entered from Curtis Street, straight into the rotunda with its impressive stained glass roof. The newly finished building was an architectural marvel.

After speaking to several people she knew, Mrs. Singletary indicated they could continue into the lobby. A large chandelier lighted their way across the well-laid parquet floor. Thanks to several more social opportunities for the widow, it took considerable time to maneuver their small party into the main auditorium.

Eventually, they passed through the main area and climbed the stairwells to the top tier of the theater where she’d secured a box.

As they settled in the crimson plush chairs, Garrett took the seat between the two women and looked around. Paintings and murals decorated the entire theater. Senses overloaded, he shut his eyes and concentrated solely on the sound of the orchestra tuning their instruments. Recognizing several notes, he winced in dread.

Hoping he was wrong, he looked at the playbill in his hand. A groan shot past his lips. Perfect. Just perfect.

The traveling opera troupe was set to perform The Barber of Seville, absolutely the worst tale of love and deception ever composed. The convoluted story was Molly’s all-time favorite and—ironically—the source of their infamous first argument as a couple.

Their mutually heated words slammed through his mind. And, then, because he was a man after all, his thoughts leaped to the end of their verbal tussle, straight to that remarkable kiss. The first for them both.

Lost in the memory, he glanced over at Molly. She was staring back at him. With a wry twist of his lips, he lifted the playbill and pointed to the title of the opera.

Her pupils instantly dilated, but it was her cheeky half grin that told him all he needed to know. She remembered their argument as well as he did. And the concluding kiss.

His heart tripped.

They were in tricky, dangerous territory.

The precise place they both liked best.

Mind stuck somewhere between past and present, he leaned forward. Molly did the same. He might have said her name. She might have whispered his.

He moved his head a fraction closer to hers, and—

A masculine clearing of a throat stopped his pursuit.

Attention averted, Garrett swung around to look at the curtained entryway. Two men, both impeccably dressed, stood in the halo of light pouring in through the slit behind them.

Garrett knew one of them by name, reputation and, more importantly, by his recent connection to Molly.

The other had been among her suitors this afternoon, the one who’d continually taken her hand in his and spoke to her with far too much familiarity for Garrett’s liking.

The evening only needed this added dramatic twist.

It’s going to be a long night, Garrett thought glumly.

And the screeching Italian hadn’t even begun.

* * *

Molly rose to her feet at the same time as Garrett. Her stomach dipped to her toes, then whipped straight to her throat and stuck.

Swallowing several times, she concentrated on the man to her left. Marshall Ferguson. Her former fiancé, looking exceedingly elegant in his evening attire. He’d even managed to tame his unruly, blond hair into neat, orderly waves.

Eyes on his handsome face, Molly braced for the change in her heartbeat, for the sickening roll in her stomach, for...something. She felt nothing, nothing at all, not even a quickening of her breath.

Odd. Wasn’t she supposed to feel a physical response to seeing him again?

As though he were equally unmoved, Marshall looked at her with a benign smile on his lips. He didn’t speak, nor did he try to move deeper into the box. He just stood at the entrance, waiting for someone else to break the silence.

Garrett didn’t do the honors.

Mrs. Singletary didn’t, either.

Molly couldn’t. Because, well, Marshall wasn’t alone.

There, beside him, stood Mr. Giles Thomas, dressed, for once, in black rather than his customary brown. Even more disconcerting, a look of disapproval pinched his ordinary face into a rather unattractive scowl.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Mr. Thomas in a voice full of outrage. “Miss Scott. You told me you were attending the opera with Mrs. Singletary, and yet here you are with—” he stabbed a finger at Garrett “—him.”

Oh, honestly.

Did he not see Mrs. Singletary standing beside them, looking...amused? The widow found this situation funny?

Molly frowned.

“You will not speak to Miss Scott in that tone of voice.” Tightening his jaw, Garrett took a step forward. “Have I made myself clear?”

“Now see here, who are you to go ordering me about?”

“Mr. Thomas.” Mrs. Singletary shifted into view, diverting disaster with the move. “And Mr. Ferguson. I say, how very good of you both to stop by my box this evening.”

The two addressed her in return—Marshall with genuine regard, Mr. Thomas with a much more fractious attitude.

Unaffected by his rudeness, the widow chattered away, oh-so-casually moving between him and Garrett. When she took a breath, she wrapped her fingers around Mr. Thomas’s arm and led him toward the exit.

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