Page 12 of A Marriage Pact for the Cowboy

And once he did know her better? He’d back off anyway.

Eryn shook her head. “If life were different…”

The overhead lights flicked off then on a couple of times.

Maxwell looked toward the doors. “I think we’re the last ones here, and that was a signal to get moving.”

“Probably.” Before Eryn could stand, Maxwell was behind her, pulling out her chair. He’d been so attentive and polite and kind all weekend. Maybe she shouldn’t be so quick to reject his overture.

Yes, she should. The longer she let herself dream, the more painful it would be when the crash came. And it would come. Guys like Maxwell Sullivan didn’t fall for girls like Eryn Ralston.

End of story.

Fairy tales were only fables, after all. They didn’t happen to real people. They’d only been written so women like her could escape their sordid realities for a little while and dream of charming princes sweeping them off their feet.

Like Cinderella at the ball, Eryn had enjoyed a couple of amazing days, but her pumpkin of a beater car hadn’t turned into a jeweled coach, and Maxwell wouldn’t be showing up at her doorstep to see if the glass slipper she’d left behind at the stroke of midnight would fit on her size-eight foot.

It wasn’t anywhere near midnight, and she had no glass slippers, just a pair of slingbacks she’d splurged on with her first paycheck when she started busing tables at the diner a decade ago.

Her life would be back to humdrum tomorrow. Or at least after she and Dad had sorted Amelia’s belongings.

Ugh.

Getting away had never sounded so good.

Chapter

Five

Mr. Ralston? It seems our children have rekindled their childhood friendship the past few days. Would you and Eryn like to come for lunch?”

Maxwell stifled a groan. Why had he ever mentioned Eryn’s name more than once in recounting the reunion activities to his mother? She was jumping to conclusions in her desperation to lure Maxwell into staying in Kansas… and she didn’t even know he’d briefly nursed the idea until Eryn shot him down last night.

Of course, Eryn was right to have done so, but he still couldn’t be impolite to her father. He reached to shake Keith Ralston’s hand. “I’m pleased to meet you again, sir. I fondly remember the events out at your farm when we were kids.”

The man’s face brightened. “Those were the days.”

Oh, man. Maxwell had put his foot in it again. The sleigh rides had ended abruptly when Mrs. Ralston had passed away. Best to keep going. “I understand you’ve also lost your other daughter recently. Please accept my mother’s and my condolences.”

Mom shot him a sideways glance, but politeness won. It always would. “Yes, Mr. Ralston. I was saddened to hear of it.”

Keith bowed his head. “I appreciate that, and I know you’ve seen your share of grief with your son’s passing. Eryn tells me young Jamie has been adopted by his uncle and aunt?”

Eryn’s panicked expression toward her father would almost be humorous if the conversation were less painful. Still, she’d talked to her dad about their conversations. Was that good or bad?

It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want a long-distance friendship.

Not that he’d been angling for merely friendship, but they’d only just reconnected. It was far too early to say he wanted to see if they could be more.

Mom’s lips pursed. “Yes, Tate and Stephanie live in Montana with Jamie and their baby boy, Simon.”

“Long ways away, Montana.”

“Very.” Mom skewered Maxwell with a look.

What, as though he were going to stay in Gilead because she didn’t want to uproot and move to Jewel Lake? Not happening.

“But that’s neither here nor there,” Mom segued smoothly. “What do you say to lunch? Dominica — my cook — has prepared a repast too much for just Maxwell and me.”

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