Rocky Mountain Marriage

“You’re still here,” she said as she breezed past him, continuing down the boardwalk toward the bank. She paused to read a handbill warning the public about a rash of counterfeit currency in circulation right here in Park County.

Chance beat her to the door of the bank and held it open for her as she entered. There were several customers in line waiting to speak with a clerk who was carefully inspecting each bill of a customer’s cash deposit.

A tall, impeccably dressed gentleman who was likely the bank’s manager appeared from an office in the back to offer help. He was fair-haired and clean-shaven, rather dashing, Dora thought.

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you.” Chance removed his hat and stepped into line behind her.

She promptly turned her back on him. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Wellesley.”

The portly woman in front of her reeked of lavender water and struggled to keep her noisy little dog under control. Any moment Dora was going to sneeze. She opened her reticule and fished around for her handkerchief, retrieving it just in time.

“What I mean, Miss Fitzpatrick—”

The banker looked up at the mention of her name. He had the most captivating blue eyes.

“—is that Wild Bill didn’t think much of banks. So if you’re expecting to find—”

She sneezed so violently she dropped her open reticule. Its contents spilled out across the floor.

The banker rushed out from behind the counter, scooted the woman and her dog aside, then knelt to collect her things. Chance had the same idea at the same moment. The two men butted heads in their frenzy.

“Oh, my key!” The small brass key that had accompanied her father’s letter lay at her feet.

“Allow me.” The banker snatched it up a split second before Chance could get his hands on it. He secured everything else inside her reticule, then stood. It was clear from the first that Chance Wellesley didn’t like him, which was reason enough to commend him to her.

“Your things, Miss Fitzpatrick.” He offered her the reticule and smiled. His expression darkened as he nodded at Chance. “Hello, Wellesley. Here for another loan?”

Chance glared at him, then turned his attention to the key, which the banker had not yet returned to her.

“John Gardner, at your service, miss.” He gave her a little bow, which she thought charming.

Chance muttered something rude under his breath.

Dora ignored him. “I’m glad to know you, Mr. Gardner.”

“You’re William Fitzpatrick’s daughter?”

“That’s correct.” It was so nice to hear her father called something other than Wild Bill.

“Although the bank does hold the mortgage on his property—your property now, as I understand from Mr. Grimmer—I’m very sorry to tell you that your father didn’t keep an account here.”

“Oh.” She knew her disappointment showed.

“Told you so,” Chance said.

She and Mr. Gardner moved closer, effectively shutting him out of their conversation.

“I didn’t know there was a mortgage. Is it sizable?”

“I’m afraid it is.”

Her hopes sunk.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your father had a number of creditors, and was behind on his interest payments to the bank when he died.”

“I see.” He’d mentioned none of this in his letters to her. Perhaps her mother had been right about his character after all.

“However, this is the key to his safety deposit box.” He dropped the small brass key into her gloved hand.

A safety deposit box! Of course! That explained the strange marking on the key. Each bank had a unique identifier.

“Perhaps what’s inside will solve all your problems.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Chance looked over her shoulder at the key. He was so close, she felt his warm breath on her neck and detected the faint scent of his shaving soap. It was sandalwood and rather pleasant, unlike the man himself.

“I suppose you’d like to open it right away.”

“Yes, I would,” she said, turning her attention back to the matter at hand. “I’d also like to discuss the sale of my father’s property, if you have the time.”

“I’ll make the time.” He dismissed Chance with a glower. “I’ll deal with you later, Wellesley.”

Chance ignored him and followed them into the office in the back.

She whirled on him. “What is it now?” Her irritation was not lost on Mr. Gardner.

“Would you like me to intervene?”

“No. Thank you. I can handle Mr. Wellesley myself.” She marched back out to the front.

Chance sauntered out behind her. “I like the sound of that, Dora.”

“Of what?” She didn’t bother reminding him that she hadn’t given him permission to call her by her Christian name, and a nickname at that.

“Of you handling me yourself.” He grinned.

“Mr. Wellesley!”

“I wish you’d call me Chance.”

She’d rather burn in hell. “I have only one thing to say to you.”

He hitched his hip against the hand-carved walnut partition separating the bank’s customer area from the back offices and waited for her to continue.

“If you think you’re going to get your hands on my father’s money, you’re wrong.”

“What money?” He arched a brow at her, as if a point had just been scored in his favor.

In the morning light she could see the fine worry lines around his eyes and forehead, and a depth to his eyes she hadn’t noticed before. The impression contradicted the roguish demeanor he seemed determined to exhibit to perfection.