Instead she negotiated water access while retaining ownership.

The contract made her one of the wealthiest landowners in the territory.

People who had ignored her suddenly began calling her Miss Harrow with remarkable enthusiasm.

Evelyn found this amusing.

James found it irritating.

“They’re vultures.”

“They’re businessmen.”

“Same thing with cleaner boots.”

James visited often.

At first, always on business.

A fence dispute.

A cattle drive.

A water contract.

A missing calf.

Then the excuses became increasingly ridiculous.

Once he rode nine miles because he claimed Evelyn’s north gate looked loose.

“It was not loose,” she told him.

“It might have become loose.”

“Gates don’t become lonely, James.”

“You don’t know that.”

By summer, everyone in Willow Creek knew James Mercer was courting Evelyn.

Everyone except James, apparently.

At least he refused to call it courting.

Then one August evening, Evelyn found him repairing the porch railing.

“My railing wasn’t broken.”

“It wobbled.”

“So you rode nine miles.”

“Yes.”

“With flowers.”

James glanced toward the wildflowers lying beside his hat.

“They were growing near the road.”

“You picked them.”

“They were creating a hazard.”

Evelyn folded her arms.

“A floral hazard.”

“Severe.”

She laughed.

James looked at her.

His joking expression faded.

“I like hearing you do that.”

“What?”

“Laugh.”

Evelyn became still.

He straightened.

“There’s something I’ve been trying to say for several months.”

Her heartbeat quickened.

James removed his gloves.

“I don’t want your ranch.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want your water rights.”

“I know.”

“I don’t care about that ridiculous clause our fathers wrote.”

“I know.”

He stepped closer.

“I want you.”

Evelyn’s breath caught.

James continued.

“Not because you saved my life.”

Another step.

“Not because I feel responsible for you.”

Closer.

“And certainly not because your ranch happens to touch mine.”

He looked directly into her eyes.

“I want the woman who spent years being told to stand behind everyone else and somehow came through it without becoming cruel.”

Evelyn’s eyes filled.

James touched her hand.

“I want the woman who can negotiate with railroad executives until grown men begin sweating.”

She laughed softly.

“The woman who still leaves bread outside Mrs. Holloway’s door because she knows the widow won’t accept charity.”

He took both her hands.

“And the woman who sat beside me when I pulled out a chair.”

Evelyn whispered, “That was your most heroic accomplishment.”

“I’ve had easier battles.”

He lowered himself onto one knee.

Evelyn stopped breathing.

James reached into his pocket.

Then froze.

His face changed.

“What?”

He searched another pocket.

Then another.

Evelyn stared.

“James?”

“I had a ring.”

She burst out laughing.

“I absolutely had a ring.”

“Did the flowers steal it?”

“This is serious.”

He checked his coat.

His shirt.

His trouser pockets.

Then a voice called from inside the house.

“Looking for this?”

Grace stood in the doorway holding a small velvet box.

James closed his eyes.

“Grace.”

“You left it on the dining-room table.”

James rose.

“Why were you touching it?”

“I wasn’t.”

“You’re holding it.”

“I prevented theft.”

“From whom?”

Grace considered.

“The floral hazards.”

Evelyn laughed so hard she had to grip the railing.

James took the box.

“I regret helping you expose Victor.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Frequently.”

Grace disappeared inside.

James looked at Evelyn.

“Can I start again?”

“No.”

His face fell.