The Hand-Picked Bride

“Hey.” Grant glared at him, his straight, dark brows adding a stern look to his classically handsome face. He didn’t remember Allison ever acting like this. “You’d better not eat that. Before you know it, we’ll have your mother coming after me with a lawsuit for poisoning her son.” He reached out and tried to pry the cookie from the child. “Come on,” he ordered in a tone that indicated he was used to having orders obeyed. “Give it back.”

It was surprising that a kid could let out such a loud shriek when his mouth was clamped down tightly around a cookie. But that was exactly what happened. A siren from a passing fire engine couldn’t have caused more commotion. People stopped dead and turned to look.

“Why, look at that man,” declared a short, redheaded woman, frowning. “He’s taking a cookie away from that poor child.”

Hearing her, Grant looked up and attempted a smile, though he was still tugging on the cookie. He tried to explain.

“No, listen, it’s my cookie. I mean, it’s not his. I mean...”

The redheaded woman would have none of it. She stood before the two of them with her hands on her hips. “Why, the selfishness. I never heard of such a thing before.”

The cookie crumbled, as cookies are wont to do, and Grant drew back a handful of crumbs. More crumbs covered the bright red little face of the still shrieking child and Grant hesitated, wanting to stop the noise but wanting to explain himself to the redheaded woman and her silver-haired companion who had just arrived on the scene at the same time.

“Look, I don’t know this child,” he began, waving his hand to try to get rid of the crumbs. “I never saw him before in my life and...”

“Then why were you forcing him to eat that cookie?” the silver-haired woman demanded. Having come upon the scene late and noting the crumbs on the boy’s face, she’d made a quick assumption. She turned, surveying the still-gathering crowd. “Force-feeding a child. Outrageous.” Her glare was ferocious. “I think it’s time to go to the police,” she informed her friend.

Grant blinked and shook his head as though he could clear it of this nightmare if he only shook hard enough. “No, wait. I’m trying to explain...”

But before he could, Jolene Campbell emerged from a knot of people, saw her son and cried out, rushing to him.

“Oh, Kevin!” she cried, grabbing him up into her arms and holding him tightly. “Kevin, Kevin, Kevin,” she muttered, tears welling in her eyes and relief making her dizzy. “Baby, baby.”

“See, here’s his mom,” Grant said, gesturing for the benefit of the two women who still seemed to hold him in contempt of some detail of social etiquette he hadn’t quite figured out yet. “Now everything will be okay.”

But the silver-haired woman seemed to think her duty as monitor of what went on in the streets of her town was not yet fulfilled. Stepping forward, she tapped Jolene on the shoulder.

“My dear, is this your child?” she said still glaring at Grant. “I just think you should know. That man was forcing him to eat cookies just now. I don’t know what he thought he was doing, but the boy was struggling like anything. Honest.”

Grant rose, clutching his bag of cookies, hoping to make a quick getaway, but Jolene whirled and stared at him, her silver eyes huge in wonder. “Why would you do that?” she asked him.

Grant met her gaze and paused, startled by her beautiful eyes. At first glance, they seemed too silver to be real, filled with shooting stars that were only emphasized by the thick golden lashes that framed them. “What is she, a witch?” his mind whispered to him, but that was hardly relevant to the situation and he shook the thought away. Instead he eyed his escape route and tried to answer at the same time.

“No, I wasn’t trying to make him eat it. You don’t understand. I was trying to get the cookie away from him.”

“You see?” crowed the redhead, rolling her eyes. “Talk about taking candy from the mouths of babes. And look. He’s got a whole bag of them. You’d think he could have spared just one for the kid. Really, some people.”

Grant groaned and Jolene frowned, looking from the woman to Grant and back again, not sure what to make of these claims. Her child was hugging her neck with both arms, but his head was turned and he was watching Grant as well. Grant caught the look. There was something about the glint in his round baby eyes....

“Here,” Grant muttered, thrusting the bag of cookies into Jolene’s hand. This was a no-win situation and he’d had enough of it. “Take them. Throw them away or eat them, I don’t care.” He began to back away, holding his hands up as though someone had a gun up against his spine. “I didn’t try to force him to eat a cookie. I was trying to take it away because I thought you wouldn’t want him taking food from a stranger. That was it, lady. Honest.”

“Wait,” she said, taking a step toward him. “I wasn’t accusing you...”

But he didn’t wait. Instead he turned on his heel and melted into the crowd.

Jolene stared after him, more confused than ever. But she had her baby in her arms, and that was all she really cared about. “Come on, Kev,” she said, kissing his fat baby cheek, even though crumbs of cookie still remained. “Let’s go back to the booth.”

People made way for her and she smiled her gratitude, full of relief that everything was turning out fine after all. It wasn’t until she was back at her pastry booth, dropping her son into his playpen once again and looking for a way to fortify its security, that she realized she still had the bag of cookies clutched in her hand. That made her think of the handsome man who’d given them to her, but she pushed the thought away. Whatever the man had been up to, she would never see him again, so it hardly mattered. She had Kevin back, safe and sound, and that was all she cared about.

Two

The Farmers’ Market was held every Thursday and Jolene never missed one. Selling her baked goods here was her main means of support. Driving in from the apartment she shared with Mandy, a week after the runaway incident, this time she came prepared with a borrowed old-fashioned wooden playpen that was sure to keep Kevin in one spot.

“Okay my little caged bird,” she muttered as she gave him a last hug before getting to work, stroking the downy blond pelt that covered his round little head. “You’ve got twenty-five toys in here with you. Plenty to do. No running away. You hear?”

He cooed happily, but as she drew back, she noticed that his gaze was on something over her shoulder and his mouth had fallen open in a perfect O.

“Cookie!” he cried, thrusting out his fat little fist.

Rising, she turned to find the man from the week before standing at the counter watching her exchange with her son.

“You again,” she said, gazing at him curiously.

“Yes, it’s me.” He smiled at her a bit ruefully, then waved at Kevin. “Hi, kid,” he said softly. “How are you doing?”

Kevin made a sound that bore a strong resemblance to a Bronx cheer, but Jolene didn’t notice. Her bright eyes narrowed as she looked Grant over, taking his measure. He was a handsome man with a sense of humor shining in his eyes. The smile he gave her was infectious, a fact that immediately made her wary. She didn’t trust men who smiled too easily.

Behind the smile, beware the guile. That had been one of her grandmother’s favorite sayings, and Jolene had once ignored it and paid the price.

But she had to admit, this man didn’t look threatening. He was probably in his thirties, but his face had a boyish look that was immediately endearing. His nicely tailored suit was just saved from looking too formal for this scene by the casual air of assurance he wore with it, and she was suddenly aware of the contrast she made in her crisp jeans and plaid shirt, the tails tied into a knot just above the waist. The Daisy Mae braids didn’t do much to help her look sophisticated, either.

Dogpatch meets Madison Avenue, she thought, laughing at herself.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, hanging back a bit. She had no reason to think badly of him, but what had happened last week had been a little strange. He smiled at her, his white teeth gleaming in the morning sunlight, making her blink.

Women usually melt when he smiles like that, she thought to herself. That’s what he does it for. But she wouldn’t. No way. She’d been through the fires and come out stronger than most.

“I came by to make sure the child was all right,” he told her. It sounded nice, sounded caring, but it was a complete lie.

He often came by the Farmers’ Market on Thursdays to search out something unusual the gourmet farmers might have brought to town. As owner and manager of a restaurant that prided itself on being ahead of the trends, he liked to be on the lookout for what was developing, poised to be the first to notice, and this was a good place to explore for possibilities. He’d been walking down the street, checking out the marketplace as he usually did on Thursdays, and suddenly there she’d been. It hadn’t occurred to him before that she might be a vendor here. He couldn’t imagine how he could have avoided noticing her on previous visits.

But in the moment he’d seen her, his first impulse had been to turn and go another way. If it hadn’t been for those strange and beautiful eyes, he probably would have done exactly that. Anything to avoid another encounter with the child from...well, maybe hell was a bit strong. The child from mischief-land, at least.

But he smiled and went on with the masquerade. “I felt badly about what happened last week and I wanted to make sure you understood I didn’t do anything to the boy.”

She nodded slowly. “He’s fine. There’s no need for you to worry.”

“Uh, good. I’m glad to hear that.” Grant hesitated, then held out his hand. “My name’s Grant Fargo,” he told her. “And yours is...?”

She really didn’t want to tell him, but there didn’t seem to be any way to avoid it. “Jolene Campbell,” she said.

“Nice to meet you, Jolene.”

She nodded solemnly, not conceding anything.

His attention was centered on her eyes and she looked away with a gesture of impatience, denying them to him, turning to the side. It always started this way. She was going to have to start wearing sunglasses so that she could get on with her life without all these interruptions. There were things to do and she meant to get them done.

Ignoring his presence, she began to pry open the large cardboard boxes she’d used to cart her wares in from the parking lot to her booth. The boxes were filled with pastries she’d been up most of the night baking. She began to take them out one by one, filling the display case with the ones that didn’t need refrigeration. But all the time, she could see him out of the corner of her gaze and she knew he wasn’t going anywhere.