Page 20 of A Marriage Pact for the Cowboy

“No, I trust you.”

“Good. It didn’t sound like it there for a minute.” Maxwell let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Look, I get this is irregular, yours and Graham’s experiences notwithstanding. And I also realize I barely know Eryn, and we might not hit it off. But thank you for taking the chance with me.”

“Anytime, bro.” Tate laughed. “Okay, that’s a lie. You get one shot at inviting a wannabe girlfriend to be on staff here. If this is your move, I’ll support it.”

“I only need one shot.”

Tate’s eyebrows twitched above his twinkling eyes. “All right. So, I can assign staff housing #4 to them until Joseph moves out of the original farmhouse, probably end of November. The duplex will seem small to them, but that’s what there is. At least it has two bedrooms.”

Maxwell nodded. He still lived in one of the units over the winter, when the influx of summer staff flowed back from whence they’d come. In the summer, he lived in his travel trailer surrounded by the campers and tents of his crew. He’d be moving into #9 himself now that he was home. As if the barebones unit could be called home.

Tate had built a house when he’d decided to marry Stephanie and stay in Montana. Graham and Cadence were discussing building sites. Weston had already staked claim to a small plot near the stables for a log cabin for him and Paisley.

Settling on the ranch forever wasn’t in Maxwell’s plans, not if he opened his own construction company after he’d burned through Grandfather’s ever-expanding list of projects. Jewel Lake, though? He could see that. Close enough to be part of things with his family at the ranch, but not involved in the day-to-day.

Eryn might want to have a say in that.

Maxwell blinked. Whoa, his thoughts had totally escaped again. He shouldn’t be imagining a future with her like that. Not at this fragile, early point. They mightn’t ever even date.

But he was a planner. A forward thinker. That was how he’d more than doubled his nest egg in eight years. He could analyze possibilities, choose a path at the snap of his fingers, and commit to it until completion.

Maybe a woman wouldn’t want to be treated like a project that way, but it was who Maxwell was. He couldn’t change himself, and why should he? Eryn — he corrected himself — whomever he married would think his personality was an asset, not a liability.

Eryn and her dad expected to arrive Wednesday evening with all their worldly possessions in their two vehicles and a utility trailer hitched to Keith’s truck.

Maxwell had a week to prepare. He cracked his knuckles. He was so ready.

“Wow, I can’t believe you’re all packed up and moving out of Gilead!” Letty, the owner of Heavenly Brew, hugged Eryn Sunday after church.

“I know. It’s been a crazy week.” Eryn glanced around the foyer of Fount of Grace Fellowship. She’d attended here nearly every single Sunday of her life, other than when she’d been sick. They’d rarely even been on vacation, thanks to the farm.

She was going to miss these people: Pastor George. Zoey and Connor Hamelin. The Groenings.

Joanie Brandt approached. “Wow, girl! Good on you for grabbing that guy so quickly!”

Letty’s ears perked up.

“It’s not like that. He offered Dad his dream job, and I’m just tagging along.”

“You tell yourself what you need to hear.”

“Ooh, tell me more!” Letty interjected.

“There’s nothing to tell.” Eryn wrapped her arms around the middle. “I reconnected with Maxwell Sullivan at the reunion, and when he found out Dad had sold the farm—” a fact Eryn was still getting used to “—with no firm plans, Max offered him a job at his family’s ranch in Montana. They have cows and hayfields and all that as well as a guest ranch for tourists. I’m just tagging along.”

Joanie and Letty shared a conspiratorial look.

“Whatever you think is going on, that isn’t it. I barely know Maxwell. He was always more Amelia’s friend than mine when we were kids.” A fact that had become clearer as Eryn worked her way through Amelia’s journals. She’d given up all pretense of ignoring the temptation with the first mention of Maxwell’s name.

“Eryn?”

The two women stepped aside at Maribel’s approach.

Maxwell’s mother proffered a large container. “I took the liberty of having Dominica prepare some muffins and sandwiches for your trip. I know it’s not much, but you and your father may not always have a decent restaurant on hand when you’re hungry. The drive between here and Montana goes through desolate terrain.” The woman shuddered delicately.

Desolate? Eryn and Dad had poured over online maps to determine their route, and that was not the word she’d have used to describe the scenery. She’d see the Rocky Mountains for the first time and soon be living nestled in their flank! Sign her up.

“Thank you.” She accepted the container. “How very thoughtful of you.”

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