Lassoing the Virgin Mail-Order Bride by Alexa Riley

He throws my bag into the back before opening the passenger door for me. I follow him as we make our way towards a black truck. With that, he turns, bag in hand, and starts heading out of the train station. “And no, I’m not sure he knows you’re coming.” “Name’s Earl,” he says, picking up my bag and giving me a wink. “Pretty sure he knows I’m on my way.” I go to grab my bag, but the man beats me to it. I know he’s talking about my future husband, Cash McCallister.

“He’s never going to see you coming.” He laughs, and the lines around his mouth are more prominent now. He studies me for a second, his eyes going soft. “That all you got?” He nods at the one bag I have sitting next to the bench. I just shrug my shoulder because I really don’t want to talk about it. I’d found myself up the creek with no paddle. The ranch hands there were the only family I’d ever really known, but the Blackwells upped and sold the ranch last year and there wasn’t the option of going back to work there now. It wasn’t our ranch, but it felt like it after all the years we poured into working there. She left me all alone a little over a month ago, and I don’t have anyone now. “Yeah, until my mama got sick and we had to move to the city.” I can still hear the pain in my own voice. I grew up on a farm with ten ranch hands. I smile, letting him know it doesn’t bother me “Don’t hold back on my account. Had to round the bastards up.” He cringes slight at his own curse. One of the fences broke this morning and we had hogs all over the place. I would have been stranded in a town in the middle of Nowheresville. I didn’t even have enough money to catch a train back out of Lobo, Texas. The worry had grown worse with each ticking minute that had gone by. I was starting to wonder if my soon-to-be husband was coming or if maybe he’d changed his mind. “Yes, that’s me.” I rise from the bench I’d been sitting on for over an hour.

His grey hair is cut short, his skin is deeply browned by the sun, probably from years of working out on the land. The laugh lines around his mouth are evident, even with all the wrinkles. Instantly, the little bit of the fear I’d been feeling slides away.

Not that I knew my father, but if I had to guess how old he was, he’d be around this old. He looks like he could be my father’s age. His movement gives me a clear view of him now, and I’m taken aback by the sight of him. The sun blocks my view until he takes another step forward, his cowboy boots tapping on the concrete of the train station’s entryway. “Miss Clare Stevens?” I turn my head to look at the man who said my name.

Lassoing the Virgin Mail-Order Bride by Alexa Riley