"I'm the man you're looking for."
Gracie dropped her map of Bozeman Airport and stared into a pair of smoky gray eyes. If she hadn't been so tired, she might have smiled. But after twenty-three hours of nonstop traveling over two continents and countless time zones, her sense of humor had disappeared along with most of her worldly possessions.
With wide shoulders and a battered cowboy hat pulled low on his head, the man in front of her definitely wasn't who she was looking for. "I'm sorry. You've got the wrong person."
Bending down, he picked up her map and handed it to her. "Your name's Gracie Donnelly and you're a teacher from New Zealand. Gerald asked me to meet you. His mother had an accident and he's staying in California with her."
At least that explained why she hadn't found Gerald. After spending too much time waiting for her suitcases, then realizing they weren't going to arrive, she'd thought he'd left without her. Gracie moved her carry-on onto her other arm, glad to relieve the weight digging into her shoulder.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." She took a deep breath, wondering what else could go wrong. "I've been looking everywhere for Gerald. I was worried that he thought I'd missed my flight. Is his mom all right?"
"She fell down some stairs and broke her leg. The school wants to wait until he gets back before you start teaching. Check your cell phone. He said he'd leave you a message."
Hunting through her carry-on, Gracie pulled out her phone. Two missed calls were waiting to be cleared. As she listened to Gerald's messages, her heart sank. Before she'd left New Zealand, everything had seemed so easy. For two weeks she'd work with Gerald, teaching at Bozeman Elementary School and living with his family. The next six weeks would be spent on a Montana cattle ranch. In between feeding chickens and looking after cows, she'd try to find her father.
Gracie was excited, her students were excited, and Gerald's class was excited. So she'd packed her suitcases, all four of them, and traveled thousands of miles to be met by a handsome cowboy, no luggage and no Gerald.
She wasn't so excited now.
"I'm Trent McKenzie, Ms. Donnelly."
A slow grin tugged at the corner of her rescuer's mouth. At any other time, Gracie would have taken a few minutes to appreciate the man behind the sexy grin. But not today, and not while she was in Montana.
"Nice to meet you, Trent. Thanks for telling me Gerald won't be picking me up. I can make other arrangements until he returns to Bozeman."
"It's my ranch you were coming to in a couple of weeks. You might as well start your visit now and we'll sort something out once he gets home."
"Your ranch?"
"Mine and the banks."
"But I thought you'd be a lot older...not that you have to be old to own a cattle ranch. I spoke with your wife and I imagined you'd be..." Gracie closed her mouth before it landed her on a plane heading back home.
"I don't have a wife."
Gracie stared at Trent and tried to figure out why nothing was making sense.
He stared right on back, hands on hips and looking almost as tired as she felt.
"But I spoke to Mrs. McKenzie. She told me all about the ranch and what clothes to pack. She even invited me to her craft group...what?"
At the mention of the craft group some of the tension left Trent's face. "You must have been speaking to my mom. Where are your suitcases?"
"Budapest."
Trent's eyebrows arched so high that they disappeared under the brim of his hat.
"It's sad but true," Gracie sighed. "The lady I spoke to didn't know how long it would take to get them sent back to Bozeman. I've filled in all the forms and they're going to call me when they arrive."
"Do you have any other clothes with you?"
Gracie shook her head. "Nothing apart from what I'm wearing."
Trent's eyes wandered down her red sweater and jeans. The corner of his mouth lifted when he saw her purple shoes with orange flowers stitched across the top. "Nice shoes."
Gracie looked down at her feet and thought longingly of all the other clothes she'd packed. She never went anywhere without at least half her closet jammed into her suitcases.
She'd spent hours sorting through what she'd bring to Montana and what she'd leave behind. It hadn't been easy, but with careful planning and more than one email to Mrs. McKenzie, she'd finally settled on the perfect wardrobe. Only now her suitcases were somewhere in Eastern Europe and her only accessory was an old baseball cap. It was enough to bring a tear or two to a woman's eyes. Or make her stomach growl like a wounded bear.
Gracie slapped her hand across her tummy. "Sorry. I didn't eat much on the flight."
Trent rubbed the back of his neck. "There's a café not far from here that serves great food. We could go there before heading to Walmart to find you some clothes. You're more than welcome to stay at the ranch until we hear from Gerald."
Gracie bit her bottom lip. The arrivals area was almost empty. She was tired, homeless, and hungry. In two weeks she would have been going to the ranch anyway, so making a decision about what to do next wasn't difficult. She was just grateful the six-foot cowboy standing in front of her wanted to be her knight in faded denim.
"Are you sure it's not too much trouble?"
"We've got everything ready and there's always plenty of work to do."
Gracie took a deep breath and felt her tense muscles begin to relax. "Thank you. I really appreciate all the trouble you've gone to. Consider me your newest employee."
"This way then, Ms. Donnelly." Trent's hand nudged her elbow as he steered her across the room. "Don't worry about a thing. You'll feel better before you know it."
"Trent?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Could you please stop calling me ma'am or Ms. Donnelly? My name is Gracie."
"Whatever you say, ma...Gracie." With a slow smile, he added, "Welcome to Montana."
* * *
Trent looked up as the doorbell jingled inside Angel Wings Café. Tess Williams had transformed the rundown diner into an old-fashioned eatery. Tucked between a florist and a craft store, it had been Bozeman's best-kept secret until a food critic from New York had stumbled through the door. Now every tourist made a beeline for the café to sample the food and enjoy a slice of Montana hospitality.
He kept a careful eye on Gracie as she drank her hot chocolate. Gerald had told him to look for a woman in her late twenties with red hair and pink suitcases. Not that the color of her luggage had made it any easier to find her.
When he'd first seen Gracie, his gaze had skimmed straight past her. With her hair pushed under a baseball cap, she'd looked like a teenager. It wasn't until most of the passengers had left, and her cap came off, that he knew how wrong he'd been.
"Why did you choose Montana, Gracie?"
"It was more like Montana chose me." A frown slipped across her face. "When I decided to come here I thought it would be fun to spend some time teaching. I emailed the principal at a local school and Gerald said he was happy to have me help him. Since then our students have been keeping in touch with each other, learning about each other's lives. Both classes are as excited as I am about being here."
Gracie's purple nail polish gleamed under the pendant light hanging above their table. Her hands looked tiny and soft. Fancy hands for a woman who didn't belong on a ranch.
He nodded toward her nails. "That manicure won't last long when you're mucking out the barn. Are you sure you want to work with us?"
Gracie glanced at her hands, then dropped them onto her lap. "When I told my class I was coming to Montana they wanted me to send them pictures of cowboys. Before I knew it, Gerald had contacted your mom and she recommended a working vacation on your ranch." She lifted her chin, almost as if she was waiting for him to argue with the twisted tale that had brought her to Bozeman. "I'm a hard worker. You won't regret letting me stay with you."
Trent wasn't so sure about that.
He smelled a rat. Not the common barn type variety, but the cuddly mother variety who could tie a man in knots and get up to all kinds of mischief at their son's expense.
Until a year ago his mom had been content to play matchmaker from a distance. When that hadn't worked she'd changed tactics, inviting every single woman she could find to their family dinners. After months of driving him insane she'd stopped playing cupid. Or so he thought.
A family started singing happy birthday and his gaze swung to the table beside theirs. Two tiers of cake almost hid the little girl who was laughing behind it. Her giggles turned to delight as five princess candles were quickly blown out.
Gracie's gaze settled on the grinning birthday girl. A look that wasn't quite happiness filled her eyes.
He had a feeling there was more to this visit than she'd told him. "What else brought you to Montana?"
She fiddled with the handle of her mug. "Nothing. That's it."
"Really?"
Her eyes skittered toward his. "I have a couple of issues to sort out. I thought working on your ranch might help put my life into perspective."
"You've come a long way to sort out a few issues."
Gracie pushed her empty mug away, glancing once more at the family beside them. "I didn't have a choice."
Another round of excited giggles filled the café. Colored paper flew through the air and a collection of pink presents filled the party table. The birthday girl's parents took photos, laughing at the chaos in front of them.
He knew all about choices and how they could tear a man in two. "A wise man once told me that everything looks small under a big sky. And Gracie...you couldn't have chosen a bigger sky in the world. I hope you find the answers you're looking for."
"So do I," she said softly.
He kept his gaze on Gracie as he picked up his hat. She looked lost and sad, and more than a little embarrassed. An odd protectiveness crept along his skin, prickling his conscience into thinking that maybe she'd come to the right place after all.
She might not be willing to share what was gnawing away at her, but at least he could help in other ways. "Are you ready to find some clothes?"
A slow smile lit her face. "My credit card's warmed up and ready for action. Let's go."
* * *
Gracie stood in the entrance of Walmart and tried not to stare. She'd never seen a store so large. It looked as though they sold everything from can openers to tents. And clothes. Rows and rows of clothes built for people with long legs and long arms.
Trent tipped his hat back, frowning across the aisles. "Tell me again why we're looking for the children's section?"
"Teens, Trent. Not children. Look at me." Gracie's cheeks warmed as his gaze did a quick but thorough inspection of her five-foot-one frame. "Most stores don't sell clothes that fit me."
"Maybe you've been shopping in the wrong places. There's nothing wrong with being a little directionally challenged."
Gracie sighed. "That's easy to say when you can see over the top of the shelves." She ignored the sea of trousers in front of her and turned right. Trent didn't understand what it was like to be short. Whenever she met someone, the first thing they noticed was her height. Anyone would think being petite was a huge issue. So what if she couldn't reach high cupboards and had to buy children's shoes? She had more important qualities than small feet.
"You're going the wrong way."
She jumped at the voice drifting across her shoulder. "Would you stop doing that?"
"What?"
"Sneaking up on me. You need to put a squeak in your boots. Otherwise, I'm going to end up having a heart-attack."
"If you listen carefully," he whispered, "you'll be able to hear my super stretched bones grating on each other. This aisle leads to the kitchen appliances." Placing an arm across her shoulders, he nudged her to the left. "I can see some girls' clothes that way."
Before she had a chance to look at where they were going, a shopping cart flew around the corner, almost crashing into some shelves. It tipped sideways and headed straight for them.
Trent pulled her out of the way, squishing her between his armpit and a stack of men's shirts.
"Caitlin Jones, I swear you're going to last about as long in this job as you did in the one you just left."
Caitlin screeched to a halt. The shopping cart bounced on all four wheels, upsetting the towels stacked haphazardly in its basket. She rolled her eyes, glaring at Trent as if it was his fault they'd nearly had a head-on collision. "I can't believe I let my sister talk me into working here. Just look at the uniform. Who wears khaki pants nowadays? My granddad, that's who. I'm not even allowed to text anyone while I'm here. How archaic is that?"
"It must be devastating."
"And they've got a supervisor watching me the whole time," Caitlin whispered. "Like they don't trust me or something."
Gracie felt a sigh work its way around Trent's chest.
"It could have something to do with your work ethic," he said.
Caitlin frowned. "I'm sixteen. I don't need a work ethic."
The superior stare the teenage commando shot Trent almost brought a smile to Gracie's face. The half that wasn't squished under his armpit.
"I hate to interrupt," Gracie muttered. "But as much as I like the smell of your underarm deodorant, you can let me go now."
Trent's arm dropped from her shoulders.
Gracie stepped sideways, almost knocking a pile of shirts off their hangers. Her face felt hot. Her body felt bothered. And it most definitely didn't have anything to do with the grinning man beside her.
"You okay, Gracie?"
"Fine." The squeak in her voice annoyed her. She pulled her shoulders back and fussed with the shirts beside her, pushing them out of harm's way.
Caitlin glanced down, smiling around a mouth of high-tech braces. "You sound kind of strange."
"I'm from New Zealand." Irritated with herself for going mushy over a man she'd just met, Gracie gave the shirts another nudge.
The teenager stared at her with a blank look on her face.
Geography didn't seem to be one of her strong points. "New Zealand's in the southern hemisphere," Gracie explained. Still no light-bulb moment. "Have you heard of the All Blacks rugby team?"
Trent's smile got a whole lot wider as he looked at Caitlin. "Check the Internet when you get home."
She shrugged her shoulders. "Whatever."
"Gracie's staying in Bozeman for a few weeks. She's going to teach at one of the elementary schools."
A shiver passed through Caitlin's skinny body. Teaching must rank about as high in the teenage girl's career aspirations as working in Walmart.
Caitlin frowned at Trent. "I overheard Stella asking about you the other day. Said she hadn't seen you around in a while. Could be she misses your company."
"I've been busy. Haven't you got work to do?"
"I am working." A cheeky grin lit her face. "I'm pushing a shopping cart, aren't I? So how long have you and Gracie been dating?"
"We're not dating. Gracie's staying with me..."
"Shoot," Caitlin hissed, "the dragon lady's on her way over." With a sweet smile on her face, and a voice three times louder than it needed to be, she bellowed, "I'm glad I could be of help. Have a nice day." And she scooted off. On all four wheels.
Trent stared down the aisle. "That was probably the worst person to bump into."
Gracie smiled at the dragon lady as she power-walked past them, following Caitlin's escape path. The poor woman would need all her wits about her if she had to keep tabs on the teenage wonder-worker.
"Caitlin wasn't that scary, Trent."
"She might look harmless, but if she gets within ten feet of a computer the whole world knows about your business quicker than you do."
"It's just as well she's not in front of a computer then, isn't it? By the end of the day she won't remember that she saw us. So who's Stella?"
Trent jammed his hands in his jacket pockets. "Let's find some clothes."
"I take it Stella isn't one of your most favorite people?" Gracie asked, jogging to keep up with his long-legged stride.
"No."
"Oh. Well." She scanned the aisle in case Caitlin decided to make another unexpected appearance.
"Before the days out, half the town will think we're living together."
Gracie stopped in the middle of the aisle. The last thing she wanted to do was complicate his life with an early house guest and lots of gossip.
Trent glanced over his shoulder, stopping when he realized she wasn't behind him. "What's wrong?"
Gracie kept her eyes glued on his shirt buttons. "I'll stay in town until Gerald gets back. I've got some research to do, so it won't be a problem."
Trent took off his hat and raked his hands through his hair. "Ignore me. I'm over-reacting. It makes more sense to have you stay on the ranch."
The frown on Trent's face worried her. Gracie knew all about small town gossip and how it could ruin a person's life. She'd sleep on the street if it meant stopping the rumors before they made it around Bozeman. "I don't mind staying in town. It's a pretty place. You've already helped me and I don't want to make your life difficult."
"You won't make my life difficult. If I didn't want you working on the ranch, I wouldn't have said yes in the first place."
Trent crossed his arms in front of his chest. He didn't look as though he was going to give in and let her do the sensible thing. Staying in Bozeman would be the most sensible thing she could do, especially if he thought they were about to make the evening news. "Why would Caitlin think anything was going on?"
"It could have something to do with the way her eyes lit up when I told her you were living with me."
"But we won't be living together like a couple."
A faint tinge of red washed above the collar of Trent's shirt. "She doesn't know that and what she doesn't know she'll make up."
"Maybe it's not as bad as you think. She's a teenager. No one's going to believe everything she says."
Trent shook his head. "Forget about Caitlin. At least you'll have some new clothes when everyone comes visiting." He headed into the center of the store and pointed to a huge neon pink sign. "Do you think you'll be able to find something in here?"
Gracie stared at the racks of clothes designed for teenagers. If she couldn't find anything to wear, she was in serious trouble. "I'll give it my best shot. If you lose sight of me, I'll be in the changing rooms."
She glanced quickly at Trent, then started hunting through a pile of T-shirts. It was time for some intense retail therapy. And if there was one thing she was good at, it was shopping in double-quick time.