The Maverick: The Maverick / Magnate’s Make-Believe Mistress

“Nobody’s really normal. But I know what you mean,” he said, and he smiled at her, a genuine smile. “Yes, I think you’re okay.”

She cocked her head up at him and her blue eyes twinkled. “Would you believe that extraordinarily handsome Hollywood movie stars actually call me up for dates?”

“Do they, really?” he drawled.

“No, but doesn’t it sound exciting?”

He laughed again.

She moved another step closer. “What I said, about not purchasing you if you were on sale in a groom shop…I didn’t really mean it. There’s a nice ring in that jewelry shop in Jacobsville,” she said dreamily. “A man’s wedding ring.” She peered up through her lashes. “I could buy it for you.”

He pursed his lips. “You could?”

“Yes. And I noticed that there’s a minister at that Methodist Church. Are you Methodist?”

“Not really.”

“Neither am I. Well, there’s a justice of the peace in the courthouse. She marries people.”

He was just listening now. His eyes were wide.

“If you liked the ring, and if it fit, we could talk to the justice of the peace. They also have licenses.”

He pursed his lips again. “Whoa,” he said after a minute. “I only met you yesterday.”

“I know.” She blinked. “What does that have to do with getting married?”

“I don’t know you.”

“Oh. Okay. I’m twenty-six. I still have most of my own teeth.” She displayed them. “I’m healthy and athletic, I like to knit but I can hunt, too, and I have guns. I don’t like spinach, but I love liver and onions. Oh, and I’m a virgin.” She smiled broadly.

He was breathless by this time. He stared at her intently.

“It’s true,” she added when he didn’t comment. She scowled. “Well, I don’t like diseases and you can’t look at a man and tell if he has one.” She hesitated. Frowned worriedly. “You don’t have any…?”

“No, I don’t have any diseases,” he said shortly. “I’m fastidious about women.”

“What a relief!” she said with a huge sigh. “Well, that covers all the basics.” Her blue eyes smiled up at him and she batted her long black eyelashes. “So when do we see the justice of the peace?”

“Not today,” he replied. “I’m washing Bob.”

“Bob?”

He pointed toward the cattle dog, who was still sitting at the pasture gate. He whistled. Bob came running up to him, wagging her long, silky tail and hassling. She looked as if she was always smiling.

“Hi, Bob,” Alice said softly, and bent to offer a hand, which Bob smelled. Then Alice stroked the silky head. “Nice boy.”

“Girl,” he corrected. “Bob’s a girl.”

She blinked at him.

“Mr. Parks said if Johnny Cash could have a boy named Sue, he could have a girl dog named Bob.”

“He’s got a point,” she agreed. She ruffled Bob’s fur affectionately. “You’re a beaut, Bob,” she told the dog.

“She really is. Best cattle dog in the business, and she can get into places in the brush that we can’t, on horseback, to flush out strays.”

“Do you come from a ranching family?” she asked absently as she stroked the dog.

“Actually I didn’t know much about cattle when I went to work for Mr. Parks. He had one of his men train me.”

“Wow. Nice guy.”

“He is. Dangerous, but nice.”

She lifted her head at the use of the word and frowned slightly. “Dangerous?”

“Do you know anything about Eb Scott and his outfit?”

“The mercenary.” She nodded. “We all know about his training camp down here. A couple of our officers use his firing range. He made it available to everyone in law enforcement. He’s got friends in our department.”

“Well, he and Mr. Parks and Dr. Micah Steele were part of a group who used to make their living as mercenaries.”

“I remember now,” she exclaimed. “There was a shoot-out with some of that drug lord Lopez’s men a few years ago!”

“Yes. I was in it.”

She let out a breath. “Brave man, to go up against those bozos. They carry automatic weapons.”

“I noticed.” That was said with a droll expression worth a hundred words.

She searched his eyes with quiet respect. “Now, I really want to see the justice of the peace. I’d be safe anywhere.”

He laughed. “I’m not that easy. You haven’t even brought me flowers, or asked me out to a nice restaurant.”

“Oh, dear.”

“What?”

“I don’t get paid until Friday, and I’m broke,” she said sorrowfully. She made a face. “Well, maybe next week? Or we could go dutch…”

He chuckled with pure delight. “I’m broke, too.”

“So, next week?”

“We’ll talk about it.”

She grinned. “Okay.”