Hand-Picked Husband

by Heather MacAllister

  I will be nice. I will be nice. I will be nice, Autumn chanted silently until they were in the corridor. "So where are you from, Sally?"

  "Why, right here in San Antonio! Don't tell me you've never heard of Sally's Western Boutique?"

  "Of course." The shop was too pricey and too flashy for Autumn but was frequented by country-and-western singers and rodeo queens. "I didn't re­alize you were that Sally."

  "I am." She laughed and opened her purse to withdraw a business card.

  Autumn glanced at it. There was a crown over the S in Sally.

  "Are you a former queen?" Sally asked.

  Autumn shook her head.

  "I didn't think so," she admitted, "but you never know. Sometimes the small rodeos don't get many entrants, or the sponsor has a niece or a daughter." She laughed. "Well, you know. But still, they're a fellow queen and entitled to a ten percent discount."

  I will be nice. 1 will be nice. I will be nice. "I was a barrel racer," Autumn said, unable to keep from doing so.

  "Why, honey, so was I, but it messed up my hair."

  "That's why I combed mine afterward," Autumn said dryly.

  "Yes, I can tell you don't like to spend much time on primping."

  Autumn slanted her a look. "Some of us need to spend more time than others."

  They both smiled sugarcoated smiles at each other.

  After cutting through the corner of the exhibition space, they reached the rest rooms.

  "Such a tiny lounge area," Sally commented, then staked out most of the vanity shelf under the mirror and proceeded to withdraw enough cosmetics and hair-care products from her purse to stock the beauty counter at a midsize drugstore.

  Autumn reapplied her lipstick and combed her hair. "So how did you and Garth meet?"

  "He's a rascal, isn't he? We were both making' the rounds of the rodeo circuit at the same time. I was entering pageants and he was roping and riding broncs."

  So he had come by the champion's buckle hon­estly; Not that she'd paid any attention to Clay's doubts.

  "I awarded him his prize money a couple of times," Sally continued as she reapplied mascara. "Then I helped him spend it."

  I'll bet you did.

  "But I want you to tell me every little thing about Clay. He says you're as close as a sister to him."

  A sister? A sister? She'd sister him. "Clay and I grew up together—"

  "The Barnett ranch is pretty big, isn't it?" Sally interrupted, and the gleam in her eye was not from colored contact lenses.

  "Yes. It's a good size."

  Sally took off her hat and began teasing her hair. "He's the only son?"

  "Yes."

  "Oooh, what a catch."

  "That's what they say."

  "So why hasn't anyone caught him yet?"

  Because of me. Autumn knew it was only a matter of time before Jackie, or someone else, told Sally a version of the Autumn-and-Clay story. Then it would look funny if Autumn hadn't said anything. She laughed. "People assumed we'd end up together, I think, which is ridiculous. Clay has a certain kind of woman in mind, and I am not that woman."

  "What kind of woman is?" Sally asked, just as Autumn had hoped she would.

  The gold digger. "Clay loves a woman who primps," she began.

  "Does he?" Sally turned her head to check her hair, then picked up a can of spray.

  Autumn had to stand to one side as Sally sprayed her hair. "Oh, my, yes. For some reason, he thinks if a woman spends hours and hours on her appearance, it shows how much she cares about him. He likes a good-looking woman and doesn't mind how much time and effort it takes for her to look good. Now me? I really don't have time to bother with all that."

  "I think you're very wise." Sally began putting her things back into her purse. "I mean, let's be hon­est. For some women, no matter how much time and effort they put in, it's just not going to help."

  "And the other thing about Clay," Autumn con­tinued, surprised she was able to speak, even more surprised she wasn't strangling Sally, "is that he spends so much time alone, working cattle and in­specting fence lines, that the quiet kind of gets to him, you know?"

  Sally nodded seriously.

  "So when he's with women, he likes the ones who talk a lot. He just revels in the sound of another hu­man voice after all that time spent by himself."

  "Oh, the poor man." Sally gripped Autumn's shoulder. "And thank you for telling me all this. I want you to know that the next time you're in Sally's Western Boutique, I'll give you a ten percent dis­count even though you've never been a rodeo queen."

  "That's very gracious of you," Autumn managed.

  Sally linked her arm with Autumn's. "Oh, I know."

  Clay reached for one end of corral plank A and Garth reached for the other. They set it in the open area, then went back for plank B.

  "I saw you talking to Autumn," Garth said.

  "Yeah, we're old friends."

  "So you've said."

  "We grew up next door to each other."

  "And you two never...?" Garth raised his eye­brows.

  "No!" Clay answered more forcefully than he might have if he hadn't kissed Autumn the way he had.

  "Well, why not, if you don't mind my asking?"

  Clay dropped his end of the board. He did mind Garth asking. He didn't want Garth getting any ideas where Autumn was concerned. No matter what she said, she hadn't had any experience with slick, op­portunistic users like this guy.

  "Autumn is a special lady. Now don't get me wrong," he said, "but she's one of those women who likes a man to take charge all the time. You know, the kind who likes you to order for them in restaurants?"

  "Yeah," Garth said. "I think that's sweet."

  "Well, she's one of those. With her, you've al­ways got to be strong and forceful and make all the decisions, and I've got to tell you, on a ranch the size of the Golden B, we need independent women who can think for themselves."

  They picked up another plank. "I guess I under­stand your point," Garth said. "But you always know where you stand with a dependent woman. No surprises there. If you ask me, a strong-minded woman is a lot of trouble."

  "Only if you get crosswise with them," Clay mut­tered. "Oh, and Autumn loves sports. Why, buy her a big-screen TV with the little picture in the corner so she can watch two channels at once, and she'll be your slave for life."

  "Well, I don't know as I need a slave for life," Garth grinned. "But a weekend sure would be nice."

  Clay grinned, too. "'Make sure you get her to cook for you. She's a whiz in the kitchen."

  He almost felt sorry for the guy.

  ''What are you two handsome men grinning about?"

  Sally and Autumn had returned. Clay had been nervous about their going off together, but they were all smiles. He drew his first truly easy breath since they'd left.

  "Hey, Sal, Autumn. We were about ready to send out a search party for you," Garth said.

  "You've got to allow a girl enough time to comb her hair."

  Clay looked at the blond waves, but frankly, Sally looked exactly the same as before.

  She walked over to him. "Garth just doesn't un­derstand how long it takes to look good."

  "You look great," Clay said, realizing Sally ex­pected some comment, but her expression made it clear that she'd expected something more. What, he didn't know. "Did, ah, you and Autumn get a chance to know each other?"

  "Oh, yes. We're such good friends now." Sally waved at Autumn, who was once again under Garth's arm.

  "You are? Something wasn't right here.

  He stared at Autumn, who in turn wrinkled her nose and wiggled her fingers.

  Something definitely wasn't right.

  "Autumn, bring me those brackets and let's get this floor put together. I'm ready for barbecue and we're not eating until this is done."

  Autumn set the metal bars over the fittings in the planks, and Garth, armed with an electric screw­driver, screwed them in. In between the whine of the screwdriver,
he blathered on about the current bas­ketball season. Autumn knew that San Antonio had a team—the Spurs—but other than that, basketball didn't interest her.

  She wouldn't have picked Garth for a fan, either. "Tell me about the time you won your buckle," she said when she could wedge in a comment.

  "You don't want to hear about that right now. I'll save that story for dinner."

  When there's a bigger audience was Autumn's cynical thought.

  She glanced over at Sally and Clay, cheered to see Sally talking a mile a minute and Clay with a pained expression on his face.

  "That'll do it." Garth admired their handiwork. "Let's go see how ol' Clay's doing with the base."

  The closer they got, the more shrill Sally's voice became, "...and then I was San Angelo Little Miss Rodeo. It was the first time my mama let me wear makeup, and I tell you, it made all the difference!"

  Autumn smothered a smile. Even though dinner would be an ordeal, it would be worth it.

  YELLOW ROSE MATCHMAKERS MATCH

  EVALUATION

  NAME OF DATE: Garth Rivers

  ACTIVITY: Auction work party

  WOULD YOU DATE THIS PERSON AGAIN?

  Yes

  WHY OR WHY NOT? He's gorgeous and I'm shallow. So sue me.

  DID YOU FIND ATTRIBUTES OF THIS MATCH THAT ARE INCOMPATIBLE WITH

  TRAITS YOU DESIRE IN A MATE? BE SPECIFIC. A PERSONALITY PROFILE IS ENCLOSED FOR YOUR REFERENCE. I'll have to go out with him again before I can answer this

  part.

  YELLOW ROSE MATCHMAKERS MATCH

  EVALUATION

  NAME OF DATE: Sally Mclntyre

  ACTIVITY: Auction work party

  WOULD YOU DATE THIS PERSON AGAIN? I guess so.

  WHY OR WHY NOT? Anybody that pretty de­serves a second date.

  DID YOU FIND ATTRIBUTES OF THIS MATCH THAT ARE INCOMPATIBLE WITH TRAITS YOU DESIRE IN A MATE? BE SPECIFIC. A PERSONALITY PROFILE IS ENCLOSED FOR YOUR REFERENCE. I don't suppose it's fair to compare her with anyone else, so I can't rightly answer this question.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  FACSIMILE

  To: Nellie Barnett, Golden B From: Debra Reese, R. Ranch Nellie, I'm not selling because of what you said about Autumn, although I do accept your apology. I just finished painting the kitchen. Painting allows a person to think. this ranch was always Ben's dream—or rather his father's. Now that they're both gone, I realized I was keeping things going for Autumn—and she's not interested, not really. And you must know that hiring a foreman made this a losing operation. The ranch is just not big enough, and I don't want to struggle anymore. There s no point. And, too, Nellie, I'm lonely. I want to go live in town.

  Fondly, Debra

  FAX

  To: Debra Reese, Reese Ranch

  From: Nellie Barnett, Golden B Ranch

  Oh, Debra! I want to put both Clay and Autumn in a room and bang their heads

  together! Barring that, I'm calling the Yellow Rose to find out how much it

  will cost to get them to admit they made a mistake in not matching those two.

  N.

  Since he'd spent so many hours working on the swine auction setup, Garth felt he was entitled to join the group for dinner at the Lucky Lariat, a Texas-style honky-tonk that was crowded with rodeo folk this time of year. This made it easy for Autumn to suggest a second date.

  Actually, what had happened was that Garth had announced he would pick her up at seven, as though a second date had already been settled. Since Autumn was already in town for work, she suggested that he meet her at the law-firm office, figuring she could use the extra hours until seven o'clock to make up for the time she'd taken off to volunteer at the rodeo.

  She was also relieved that she didn't have to in­troduce Garth to her mother.

  Autumn pulled a volume of case law from the firm's library shelf and brought it to the table where she'd settled in for some uninterrupted, after-hours research before meeting Garth in the lobby.

  But instead of looking for rulings in cases similar to the one she was researching, Autumn thought about her mother.

  Debra hadn't been acting like herself lately. After painting the kitchen a blinding white, she'd gone through the house and talked about painting other rooms, wallpapering a bathroom and changing the rug in the den. She seemed energetic and happy. Frankly, Autumn had been prepared for long talks concerning Clay, but there hadn't been a single one.

  She must have finally convinced her mother that there was no future with Clay.

  And then he'd kissed her. It hadn't been fair of him to kiss her—or if he'd been going to, he should have done it a long time ago. At odd moments, Autumn would relive the kiss, like the time when Clay was smiling down at the bubbly Sally, and it was making her cranky.

  She should follow her mother's example and move on.

  It was in that spirit that Autumn greeted Garth at seven o'clock. She would overlook the distressing tendency to boss her around that he'd developed at the end of their date yesterday. She would carefully maneuver the conversation away from sports.

  And she would probably invite him to the Champion Buyers' Ball.

  "Hey there, Autumn." Garth, again dressed in black and wearing his belt buckle, greeted her. "You're prettier than a speckled pup." He plopped his arm around her.

  Oh, please. "Thank you, Garth." Autumn shrugged off his arm by shaking her keys. "I've got to lock the door."

  "I'll do that for you." Before she could protest, he'd snatched the keys.

  "Let me. There's a trick to it."

  "I got it." He jammed the key in the lock and began pulling at the massive glass door.

  "Garth." Autumn removed the key from the lock, repositioned the door and pushed the locking bolts into the pebbled concrete. She knelt and locked those, then stood and locked the higher set of locks.

  "I woulda figured it out if you'd given me a chance."

  Autumn dropped the keys into her shoulder bag. "It was faster this way."

  "Well," he drawled, whipping open the door of a battered pickup truck, "you shouldn't have to worry your pretty little head about that."

  Pretty little head! "It's my job."

  "Whatever you say, darlin."

  What?

  He trotted around the truck and swung himself in­side. "You know, I found this sports bar with three big-screens and satellite TV. We'll go there after din­ner."

  We will not. "It'll be pretty late by then," Autumn answered noncommittally.

  "So what are you doing tomorrow night?" he asked.

  Autumn scrambled for something to be doing. It didn't even have to be important, but it did have to be done without Garth. She wasn't fast enough.

  "How about you invite me to your place and cook me up some dinner?"

  Autumn laughed. "I don't cook."

  "Sure you do."

  "No, I really don't."

  He grinned at her. "Well now, I'd like to make up my own mind."

  Autumn stared ahead and tried to calculate how many blocks away they were from the Lucky Lariat. Undiluted Garth was straining her patience. "Let me save you some time. Tonight, just mention the words 'Autumn's barbecue sauce' and listen."

  "It can't be as bad as that gal's I heard about.

  Seems she destroyed the taste buds of half of Bexar County."

  "That would be me," Autumn said.

  Garth gave a crack of laughter. "I knew the men down here were wimps." He continued with another of his stories. At least it didn't feature sports.

  In an attempt to talk about something else, Autumn managed to work in the fact that she was going to return to law school.

  "Why are you gonna do that?" Garth looked sur­prised.

  "To finish my degree."

  "When are you going to have time to be a lawyer when you've got a husband, children and all your ranch chores?"

  There were a dozen responses Autumn could make, but they all would be pointless. Garth wasn't tuned in to the big picture. "I'll work it out when t
he time comes," she said dryly.

  "You don't want to go to work." Garth's tone felt like a pat on the head. "You're the kind of woman who needs a man to take care of her. Now that I think about it, it's odd that you'd want to study law."

  Autumn's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I don't need a man to take care of me."

  He looked at her approvingly. "Aren't you sweet? I know what you're doing. You're trying to make me think you're a strong, independent woman. That's all right, darlin'. You don't have to pretend around me."

  "Pretend? What makes you think I'm pretend­ing?"

  "You are, aren't you?"

  Autumn looked straight at his handsome but clueless profile and spoke out clearly and distinctly. "No."

  They stopped at a traffic light and he gazed at her, eyebrows drawn together in puzzlement.

  "Who's been talking to you about me?" she asked.

  "Your good buddy, Clay."

  "And what did my good buddy say?"

  The light changed and Garth stomped the accel­erator. "That you like a man to take charge."

  Autumn thought about that for a minute. Maybe there was truth in that, she thought with some sur­prise. However... "Garth, there's taking charge and there's being a tyrant. One thing you have to know if we're going to get along is that I hate it when people make decisions for me."

  "Gotcha." He didn't seem put out by what she'd said at all, which probably meant he didn't believe her. Autumn was trying to decide if it was worth making the effort to convince him that she was her own woman when he turned his head and nodded toward the street. "I think this is it."

  A neon cowboy with a flashing lariat blinked above them. Music, light and smoke spilled out the open doors and windows of a metal-sided building.

  "This looks like my kind of place," Garth said as he parked the truck in the graveled parking lot.

  Autumn believed him.

  When they got inside, they found that smaller ta­bles had been pushed together to form one long table across the length of the back wall. About three-quarters of the committee had already arrived. Clay, Sally and her crown were dancing the Cotton-Eyed Joe. From the number of men watching, Autumn guessed that Clay wouldn't be dancing with her for much longer.