Wyoming Cinderella

by Melissa Senate

  “Oh,” she said in her best professional tone as she glanced at her watch. “Zeke, if you’re going to make it to Prairie City by three for your meeting, you should really be on the road in no later than fifteen minutes.”

  He glanced at his own watch. “I knew hiring you was the best thing I’d ever done. My mind was definitely elsewhere.”

  Yeah, on Danica.

  As they headed back to the office, she was struck with a brainstorm.

  She didn’t see Zeke and Danica together, and not because she saw herself and Zeke together. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why, but knowing Danica so well, and having gotten to know Zeke a bit—nope. They might have attraction but there wouldn’t be any chemistry. And Molly and Zeke—they definitely had it.

  So Molly could be helpful without actually leading her dream man to another woman. He’d quickly see they weren’t right for each other, and maybe spending some outside-of-the-office time with Molly to discuss his love life would make him see her in a hot new light. It could happen.

  “Zeke, I have an idea. You’ve got a packed afternoon. Why don’t you swing by my house tonight and I can give you some tips?”

  His gorgeous face brightened. “Sounds great. Seven thirty?”

  “Perfect.”

  Well, it wasn’t, but it was a start. And Molly was taking it.

  * * *

  “No turning back now,” Zeke said to his brother Ford as they stood on the front lawn of Ford’s new house in their down jackets, Stetsons and gloves, the February bite sharper now that the sun had set.

  Ford had texted Zeke earlier that he’d signed on the dotted line and was now an official Bear Ridge, Wyoming, resident. Since Zeke wanted to pick his brother’s brain about a couple things, especially after the unexpected encounter with Danica while having lunch with Molly this afternoon, he’d suggested a quick celebration dinner at a good Italian restaurant to toast the new digs and Zeke’s new firm. But they’d had so much to talk about and there’d been so many interruptions at the restaurant, people coming up to say hello—Ford had already become a local hero for cracking a missing person’s case involving a runaway teenager and bringing him home safe—that Zeke hadn’t had a chance to get too personal.

  He could see why his brother had chosen this house. Very close to the police station in the center of town, yet tucked with just a handful of homes at the far end of a dead end street that led to walking trails, Ford’s new home was a classic white farmhouse. He was planning to adopt two dogs once he was more settled and wanted to be near woods. Ford had taken him on the tour of the inside, and it somehow managed to be updated with all the high-tech latest and true to its turn-of-the-last-century beginnings.

  “Nope,” Ford said, looking up at the house. “No turning back. This is it, home sweet home.” He glanced at the big oak in the yard. “I can see a tire swing here. Tree house in the back.”

  Amazing. Zeke would never get used to the new and completely different Ford Dawson. At thirty-six, Ford was the oldest of the six siblings. He’d been through it all, seen it all—both as a child of Bo Dawson and as a city cop in Cheyenne until just a couple months ago.

  Zeke slung an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “As I recall, you once said buffalo would fly before you moved back to Bear Ridge. Now look at you. Homeowner. Thinking about tree houses. And there’s only one reason why someone would build a tree house. For kids.”

  Ford jabbed his thumb backward at himself. “Hey, I’m no spring chicken. I’m thirty-six. People change, grow, get past stuff. I’m thinking six kids. Big family, like we had.”

  Speaking of... “Let me ask you something. How’d you get from the Ford I knew to Ford 2.0 who actually wants to get married and have children? When and how did it happen?”

  Ford looked at Zeke, a smile forming. “Interesting question. Sounds like someone is thinking about settling down himself. Who’s the lady?”

  Sometimes he forgot Ford was a detective. Zeke had always looked up to Ford, sought his advice. Growing up, his eldest brother had always been his go-to when he was pissed off about their dad. Ford wasn’t just the oldest; he also didn’t share a mother with any of them so Zeke would often take off for wherever Ford was, whether at his dad’s or his mom’s if he needed some space from his brothers Axel and Rex, and Ford always seemed to get it. “Listen, Detective, this is about you, not me.”

  “Nah, it’s about you.”

  Zeke half scowled. “Fine, it’s about me. There’s a woman I’ve had a crazy crush on since middle school and she’s now single. She’s my age so it’s reasonable to assume she’ll be interested in marriage and kids. Well, Daisy pointed that out.”

  Ford nodded. “Whoa. You talked to Daisy about this? The matchmaker of the Dawson Family Guest Ranch? You must be far gone for this woman.”

  “I am. And in fact, in about a half hour, I’m due at my new assistant’s house for pointers on how to make Danica mine. Turns out Molly and Danica are best friends.”

  Ford looked at him like he’d grown another head. “Um, you know you’re not still in high school, right?”

  Zeke shrugged. “Hey, I can use all the help I can get. Danica looks like a supermodel. And she seems really nice.”

  “Seems? Oh, so you don’t actually know this woman you’ve been in love with half your life?”

  Zeke narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Who are you...Daisy? You know how it is.”

  “Nope. I once did. Not anymore. A gorgeous face alone doesn’t do anything for me anymore.”

  “Really? Why not?” Zeke asked.

  “Time, experience, maturity. Who the hell knows. Don’t get me wrong—I appreciate a beautiful woman. But I’m looking for a lot more. A life partner. Sickness and health, and all that.”

  It was exactly that life partner aspect that got Zeke all tied up in knots. He just couldn’t see himself coming home to someone other than a great German shepherd or golden retriever, perhaps. Between his upbringing and his last disaster of a relationship, marriage just wasn’t on his radar. “It’s not like I’m being shallow by pursuing Danica. She could be incredibly kind and giving and funny.”

  “Could be are the key words, Zeke.”

  “Well, if her best friend is Molly, then Danica has to be great. Because Molly is.”

  Ford eyed him. “What’s Molly like?”

  Her wild dark curls, big brown eyes and sweet face floated into his mind. “Smart, really funny, easy to talk to. I got really lucky that she applied for the position.”

  “Now those are the traits you want to go for, Zeke.”

  “I know,” he said, rolling his eyes. “And I’m sure Danica is all that, too. But even if Molly were my type, she’s my administrative assistant. That means she’s off-limits, anyway.”

  “Oh, so we’re back to your type? Supermodels?”

  Zeke thought about Jada, also tall, 32-D, pencil skirts, tiny pastel-colored jackets and high heels. Her perfume had driven him nuts, some erotic, spicy scent. Had she been particularly funny or easy to talk to? No. She was smart, though. But yes, if he really thought about the two of them at dinner or in bed and walking around Prairie City’s farmer’s market, they’d had little in common and less chemistry except sexually. She’d never gotten his jokes, wasn’t interested in hiking—one of Zeke’s favorite things to do—didn’t eat any food with carbs, another of Zeke’s favorites.

  “What type is Molly?” Ford asked.

  Ford really did have the right job. What was this, an interrogation? And Zeke was suspected of being a shallow cad?

  “She’s...” His administrative assistant came to mind again. Molly in her pantsuit. Molly in her Wyoming Cowboys sweatshirt and leggings. Molly holding her baby girl against her, patting her back. Her quick laugh, easy smile, the funny stories she’d told him during lunch about her big extended family. “Well, I don’t like the idea
of relegating someone to a type. That’s not cool. But she’s...nice, I guess.”

  “You mean ‘friend-zoned’ because she doesn’t look like a model.”

  “No, I mean...” He didn’t know what he meant. “I’ve been interested in Danica for a long time and want to pursue her. End of story. Jeez, back off.”

  Ford smiled and held up his hands. “I should tell you—I know for a fact that Danica Dunbar is plenty nice. She was my Realtor on this house.”

  “See?” Zeke said. “I was right.” He nodded up at the property. “All the more reason for me to get to know her that way since I’m in the market for a house. And fine—I’ll make sure there’s something between us, chemistry, common ground. If Danica will even go out with me. She’s booked up solid for the next two weeks. I heard her telling some buff doctor who asked her out.”

  Ford laughed. “Well, then, go get your pointers from Molly. Good luck. You’re a good guy, Zeke. One of the best people I know. I’m sure Danica will see that. Plus, you look like me, so you’ve got that going for you, too.”

  Zeke grinned. All the Dawson brothers looked alike with their dark hair and blue eyes. Plus they were all six foot one or two, and favored black Stetsons. Often Zeke would be walking down Main Street and someone would call, “Hey, Axel” or “How’s it going, Noah?” He’d lift up his hat, and the person would say, “Oh, sorry, I thought you were...” The Dawson clan all took after Dad, including Daisy, who had lighter hair but the blue eyes and the height and the features. None of them was surprised that Bo Dawson’s genes were the dominant ones over their mothers’.

  Ford tipped his hat. “Just sharing some of my hard-earned wisdom, lil bro.”

  Zeke appreciated that Ford always gave it to him straight, didn’t say what Zeke wanted to hear but what he needed to hear.

  “But you want to know how I know I’m ready for marriage and kids when I’d spent so long running from making commitments?” Ford asked.

  Zeke nodded. “Yeah, exactly that. How do you know?”

  “Well, I just felt a restlessness. I started feeling some kind of hum, thrum, whatever you want to call it, for something more, something different. It’s just a feeling deep inside and right on the surface, too. All I know is it’s what really brought me home, Zeke.”

  Zeke stared at the big oak, at the branch where a tire swing would likely go. He could picture a bunch of little Fords lying on their bellies and full of expectant glee, Ford giving the tire a big push. “Well, if a hum or thrum of that brought me home, I don’t feel it, deep down or otherwise.”

  “So maybe the right woman will change that. You’ll see. But, Zeke. One more thing you should know. Expect the unexpected.”

  “Don’t I always? Hey, Ford,” he added. “Why didn’t you ask out Danica when she was showing you houses?”

  “She’s beautiful, no doubt, but I said black, she said white. I said up, she said down. Honestly, I’m not sure how she managed to find me a house.”

  Zeke grinned. “Good. Less competition with you out of the running.”

  He pulled out his phone and glanced at the time: 7:22. He was expected at Molly’s at seven thirty. Another person who would give it to him straight, judging from their conversations so far. The thought of her—his trusty assistant—had goose bumps breaking out along the nape of his neck. He couldn’t get to her house fast enough. Within a half hour he’d have his intel, and who knew? Maybe Danica would soon be showing him a house for the two of them.

  Yup, hiring Molly Orton was proving be a very smart move on all kinds of levels.

  And really, Ford was great and all, but he was way off here. This thing with Danica wasn’t about type. Zeke not thinking of Molly as anything other than his admin also had nothing to do with type. I mean, come on. He was crazily attracted to Danica and had been forever. So he didn’t know her‒know her yet. He would. And she’d be as lovely on the inside as she was on the outside. No doubt.

  As he’d said, if she was Molly-approved as a best friend, Danica had to be wonderful.

  Chapter Four

  Once again, when Zeke arrived at Molly’s, both of her phones were ringing—and the doorbell.

  “You’re very popular,” he said as she held the door open wide and gestured for him to come in before racing toward the living room for her cell phone on the coffee table. She took the call in the hallway, so to give her some privacy he went into the living room.

  Lucy was standing up in a playpen waving a rattling rabbit toy. She stared at him, her big brown eyes saying: Pick me up, please!

  He smiled at her and scooped her out, the eyes on him.

  “Ba,” she said, waving the rabbit with a big smile, showing him her adorable baby teeth.

  “You don’t say. So how are you, Lucy? Did you enjoy your birthday party? Did you get to try some strawberry shortcake?” He and Molly had been so busy at work today in setting up the office and going over how Dawson Solutions would operate, and they’d had so much to talk about over lunch, that the subject of Lucy’s party hadn’t had a chance to come up.

  He heard Molly dashing into the kitchen for the landline and saying hello. From the gist he was able to overhear, someone was asking how her first day at her new job had gone.

  “She sure did,” Molly said, coming back into the living room and tossing her phone on the love seat. She had what seemed a pleasantly surprised look on her face when she saw Lucy in his arms. “My mom told my nana what happened with the cake she’d picked up on Friday, so Nana rushed out to the bakery to get a new cake and she told my aunts, who told my cousins, and do you want to know how many birthday cakes Lucy ended up with at her party? Eight.”

  He laughed. “Seriously?”

  “Want a piece of red velvet? Chocolate? Lemon chiffon? Carrot with the best frosting I’ve ever had? Plus I have four strawberry shortcakes, including yours. I’ll have you know I served yours first. My whole family thinks you’re a saint now.”

  Zeke grinned. “Better than the alternative. And yes, I’ll have a slice of whatever you recommend.”

  “I’ll make coffee, too.” She headed to the kitchen and he followed her. “And I know all about the alternative. My ex-husband and his wife stopped by the party so that they could say happy birthday to Lucy on her actual birthday even though they had their own celebration planned for the following day. My family gives the two of them the evil eye no matter how nice they are—and they are perfectly nice. Well, nice-ish. I mean, he did leave me for her and—” The color practically drained from her face. “Oh, God, did I just say that? Ignore.”

  He leaned against the kitchen counter and shook his head. “I like how you say what’s on your mind. And as for your family and the stink eye? Team Molly. I get it.” As he boosted Lucy in his arms, she grabbed his ear. He met the big eyes, full of happy curiosity. “Can you say Ow, Lucy? Owww.”

  Molly laughed and opened the refrigerator. “Yup, my ears have gotten the Lucy tug.” She tapped her baby’s nose. “I can take her if...she’s heavy.”

  “Did I mention I can bench-press two hundred and five pounds? This little darling is no problem. And she smells like baby shampoo. I think that scent is hard-wired into our brains to remind us of something good in our families.” Now he was the one to kind of freeze. What had made him say something so leading?

  “Definitely,” she said, pulling out a white box. “I love that smell. When Lucy was an infant and I’d be scared to death about being on my own with her, a divorced mom, I’d just breathe in that scent and hold her close and I’d feel better.”

  He gave Molly a commiserating nod and rubbed Lucy’s back. “I’m sure those days weren’t easy. Especially at first.”

  “Oh, they weren’t. Even with my parents and nana and aunts and uncles and cousins rallying around me. And boy, did I work hard to have an amicable relationship with my ex. I really had to train myself when he and h
is affair—now wife—would show up to pick up Lucy.”

  Lucy gave his ear another little tug. “Train yourself how?”

  Molly set the box on the counter, grabbed a knife and two plates and cut two slices of what looked like red velvet cake. “Early on the arrangement was that they’d have her a few hours a couple times a week. The doorbell would ring, and I’d chant in my head, ‘Now, Molly, when you open the door, do not, I repeat, do not stare them down or look like you’re going to throw up. Do not make veiled, passive-aggressive or straight-out nasty comments to either of them, though you may want to. Though you do want to. Just smile and make pleasant chitchat. For Lucy’s sake and your sanity. You’ll be co-parenting with this guy not just for eighteen years, but forever. Sanity has to come first. Lucy has to come first.’”

  He nodded. “Oh, trust me, I get that, too. Well, not personally since I’ve never been married. But my father’s first wife, my brother Ford’s mother, who left my dad, and my mother, his second wife, would have it out every drop-off or whenever they ran into each other in town—and this went on for years. Shouting, cursing. Right on Main Street. Or in front of our house, in front of all of us. What’s worse, I think my father thought it was cute when his first and second wives would hurl insults at each other. Meanwhile, all of us would be standing there, shaking.” He glanced out the window, at the snow clinging to the evergreens, to rid his head of the image. “Yeah, marriage? Not for me.”

  “I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” she said. “Your family and me aside, I can think of many great marriages. My parents’, for one. They’ve been married for thirty-three years. My dad is the cook of the family, always has been, and he plays music while he makes dinner. My mom will come in sniffing the air appreciatively, and he’ll pull her into a slow dance to some eighties new-wave song by one of his favorite bands.”