Page 8 of A Jilted Bride for the Cowboy

Another search brought up a website. She cringed. So basic. Yes, there were a few photos of a log lodge and some cottages by a lake. More like a puddle, compared to Lake Michigan. But if the ranch had any social media accounts, they weren’t evident from the main page. And they should be.

Cadence cracked her knuckles. Graham wasn’t making all this up. They did need her, and she’d do the best she could for them.

It wasn’t every day that a woman met an angel in disguise, but that’s what Graham Sullivan was.

Yeah, she knew he was a regular guy. Their circles had intersected slightly during college.

But tonight, and for the foreseeable future, he was her angel.

Did believing in angels mean she believed in God? She’d never quite stopped, but the Almighty hadn’t seemed all that relevant in recent years. She hadn’t been asking for His guidance or anything like that.

Maybe she should have been. It might have saved her a whole lot of trouble, not to mention humiliation.

Well, she’d pray now and thank God for Graham. And maybe she’d seek His advice over the next while.

Chapter Three

Cadence’s cell trilled for the umpteenth time.

Graham glanced over. This time, she stirred a little in the passenger seat, blinking sleepily as she became aware of her surroundings.

He clenched the steering wheel and forced his gaze forward through the car’s windshield. He’d been sneaking peeks at her since he’d taken over driving somewhere in mid-Wisconsin.

She was adorable, even in sleep.

And she was not his. She was not in a position to be his.

The phone stopped ringing, then beeped as it recorded a voicemail, also not for the first time.

Cadence gathered her dark hair and pushed it over her shoulder as she looked around. “Where are we?”

“West of Rochester.”

“Minnesota?”

He chuckled. “Definitely not New York.”

“But we’ve been driving for—” She looked at the dash clock.

“Five and a half hours.” They hadn’t left Chicago until 2:30, not that stopping off to give Paul the engagement ring had taken long. Paul and the guys had consumed a lot of alcohol in the couple of hours Graham had been gone, and abusive cursing seemed their preferred language. He’d gotten out of there as quickly as he could, thankful he hadn’t endured another toss in the pool.

And then it had taken a bit of time to close up his apartment again. He’d planned to haul a full carload to Montana but limited himself to the carryon he’d brought on the plane as well as a small cooler with the measly contents of his fridge. No doubt, Cadence would fill every remaining nook and cranny of the Jetta.

He’d been right about that. The trunk was packed to the gills, and the backseat stuffed to the ceiling. Also, he was dying to know what books she liked to read that took up three of those boxes. She’d been reluctant to leave any behind, but the car was only so big.

Her phone trilled again.

Cadence closed her eyes then turned it face-up listlessly and stared at it. “My mother.”

“It’s rung a few times.” Like eight in the past half hour because, yes, he’d been counting.

“I guess I should answer.”

Graham bit his tongue and passed a semi-truck.

She sighed heavily. “Hi, Mom.”

He couldn’t make out Mrs. Foster’s exact response, but the shrill volume came through loud and clear. A quick glance revealed Cadence leaning against the headrest with her eyes closed, absorbing the tirade.

---