Rust Creek Falls Cinderella

Her heart sank to her stomach, so she wasn’t capable of speech at the moment. All she could manage was a deep everlasting sigh of doom.

Why had she let herself believe a nutty fantasy that this man, six foot two, body of Adonis, face of a movie star, a man who could have any woman in this town, would go for the tomboy with red hair who smelled like onions? Why? Was she that delusional?

I love how passionate you are, he’d said more than once in the very short time they’d known each other.

She wasn’t delusional. She was passionate about life—and love, even if she’d never experienced it. She sure knew what incredible heart-pounding lust felt like, though. Because she felt it right now. With Xander Crawford.

This is what it feels like to fall in love. And it was impossible to stop, like a speeding train, even if the object of her affection just told her “it wasn’t a date date” and they were “just friends.”

Just friends.

Get back to earth, she told herself. Go make his seven French dips to go.

“Well, back to work!” she said too brightly, and dashed inside, then realized she’d left him high and dry in the back and he’d have to find his way around to the front of the hotel to return to the dining room.

He’ll manage, she thought as she got back to her station to prepare his order. She saw him sneak and dart through the kitchen, her heart leaping at the quick sight of him. Sigh, sigh, sigh.

“Lily, you’re amazing,” her boss said. “Seven French dips to go for table three?” Gwendolyn was beaming at her, so at least she had big love at work if not in her personal life.

Forget Xander Crawford and focus on where you want to be next year: owning your own catering shop or little café, whisking your customers away to home.

Sure. As if she could forget Xander for a second.

Chapter Three

“Am I right?” Xander asked his brothers and father as they sat on the backyard patio of the Ambling A, gobbling up their French dips. “Is this incredibly delicious or what?”

The Crawfords were so busy eating they barely stopped long enough to agree. Knox held up his beer at Xander. Hunter said he wanted two more.

“I’ll tell you what I’m right about,” his father said, taking a huge bite of his sandwich. “That you went to Maverick Manor for lunch just so you could see the pretty chef again. Admit it.”

“Yeah, admit it,” Finn said with a grin.

What was that old line? No good deed went unpunished? No way would he ever bring these gossips a good lunch again! “I went because I was hungry. So how’s the roof on the barn coming, Logan?” he asked his eldest brother, hoping the others would shut the hell up.

“Logan, tell Xander instead how wonderful married life is,” his dad said. “Someone special to come home to at the end of a long, hard day.”

Oh, brother. Literally.

Logan laughed, finishing the rest of his French dip and taking a sip of his beer. “First, that was damned good. Compliments to your chef, Xan.”

“She is not my chef!” Xander shouted.

Six Crawfords laughed. One stewed in his chair.

“Second, Dad is right,” Logan said. “Finding Sarah changed my life. Nothing beats coming home to her every night, waking up to her every morning. And raising that cherub Sophia with her? I feel like the luckiest guy in the world.”

Huh. Xander eyed his brother. He was dead serious, heart-on-his-sleeve earnest.

“All of you are going to be that lucky, too,” the Crawford patriarch said. “You know, I had to be both mother and father to you boys. I didn’t always get it right. I guess I want just to see you all settled down and happy. I want you to have everything you deserve. All the happiness.”

Logan put a hand on his dad’s shoulder.

“To happiness,” Finn said, raising his beer. “I’m into it.”

“Even Knox can’t not toast to that,” Hunter said.

Xander eyed the always-intense Crawford brother. Knox raised his beer again with a bit of a scowl. Knox had thanked him for going out with Lily in his place, then had grimaced when Max Crawford said, “Now that you’re over being stubborn about it, there are a hundred more single beauties out there, Knox, ole boy.”

“First of all, I’m still not going out with anyone,” Knox had said. “Secondly, there probably aren’t a hundred people in this town, Dad,” he’d added, and had made himself scarce until he smelled the French dips.

Rust Creek Falls was tiny, less than a thousand residents, but nine hundred fifty of those had to be single women. Or at least that was how it had felt ever since Max Crawford had announced—erroneously!—that his six sons were looking for wives.

“Xander, you should probably make a reservation at the Manor for dinner now, just in case,” Max said with a grin. “Find out if your chef is working first, though.”

Xander got up, tossing his wrappers in the trash can. “I think I hear one of the calves calling for me.” He headed for the barn, the too-familiar sound of his brothers’ laughter trailing him.

His chef. Hardly!

“Mmm, mmm,” he heard his dad say as he rounded the barn. “This roast beef takes me right back to Texas. Coulda ordered it from Joey’s Roadhouse, am I right?”

Xander smiled. Told you. He’d been taken by surprise as bits and pieces of memories had popped into his mind while eating at the restaurant. Just flickers that he thought he’d forgotten: Logan threatening a bully on his behalf. Knox telling their dad off when he thought their dad was being unfair with Xander about something. The constant runs to the grocery store for milk since six growing boys could finish a gallon after one cold-cereal breakfast. Christmas after Christmas, each boy picking a brother’s name from the Santa hat to buy for, the three years in a row that he got Hunter.

His mother in a yellow apron.

Now it was his turn to scowl. He didn’t often think about his mom. He didn’t remember much about her, just maybe the thought of her. There were few pictures of Sheila Crawford in the family photo albums; he had no idea what his dad had done with the rest of them. Max had probably stored them up in the attic, leaving just a few for the boys to have some idea what their mother had looked like. Logan, Xander and Hunter remembered her the most but even they had been too young to hold a picture of her in their minds. Somehow, Xander did remember the yellow apron. And long brown hair.

A calf gave out a mini moo and he shook his head to clear his mind. All this thinking of home and his family’s ribbing him about “his chef” nicely contradicted each other. Thinking about his mother reminded him that marriage didn’t work out. That even the people you could count on to love you, by birthright, could leave. Just walk away without looking back. Between that and finding his girlfriend and best friend in bed, he gave a big “yeah right” to happily-ever-after.

“Yoo hoo! Anyone home?” a very female, high-pitched voice called out.

Xander came out of the barn to find an attractive, curvy blonde, just his type, he had to admit, smiling at him as she walked over from her car. “Hi, can I help you?”

“I’m so sure you can, honey,” she said, her voice lowering an octave. “I’m Vanessa and I was hoping to hire one of you tall, strong, strapping cowboys to teach me how to ride a horse. I’m a town gal, so no horse or land of my own.”

Xander knew there were plenty of horse farms and ranches in the area that offered riding lessons. The Ambling A wasn’t one of them.

He had a feeling this woman was here for a cowboy and had zero interest in horses, if her very high heels and short dress were any indication. But any woman in the market for a Crawford was looking for a wedding ring. So despite the fact that Vanessa was his type to a T, he’d have to sit this one out.

“Ah. We don’t offer riding lessons, but perhaps one of my brothers can give you the rundown on who does.”

“I’d be happy to hear it from you,” she said, puckering her glossy red lips a bit.

“I’m not really one of the eligible Crawfords,” he said.

She frowned. “I don’t see a ring. Unless you’re spoken for.”

Lily’s face flashed into his mind. His chef. That was weird. “Well, I do seem to be seeing someone, unexpectedly,” he added, for no godly reason. Then realized that was why Lily had popped into his brain. She was his way out!

“For goodness’ sake, why didn’t you say so and save me the trouble of flirting?” She fluffed her hair. “Any of your eligible brothers around?”

He smiled and mentally shook his head. A woman who knew she wanted. Had to give her credit for the chutzpah. “Let me see if Finn knows about riding lessons. Be right back.”

“Finn? I do like that name,” she said, peering around.

“Hang on a sec.”

He went around the back of the sprawling ranch house to find the Crawfords just finishing up. “Finn, there’s a woman here to see you.”

Finn perked right up. That was a line he liked. “Say no more,” he said before dashing around the house.

Xander smiled. That was easy. He went back into the barn and got down to work, ignoring the giggles coming from Vanessa as Finn flirted.

A flash of freckles and determined green eyes came to mind again. He should let Lily know his family loved the French dip, too, right? She’d probably appreciate hearing that. He could stop by the Manor and say it loud enough for her boss to hear; who couldn’t use a gold star at work from a happy customer?

Yeah. He’d stop by and let her know. A good friend would do that, and he had a feeling that was exactly what he and Lily were going to be: good friends. That was it. Sorry, Matchmaking Dad.

* * *

The Hunt house was a big white colonial not far from the center of town. Xander glanced up at the second-floor windows, wondering which room was Lily’s. He had a vision of himself standing out here at night, tossing pebbles at her window to get her to come out as if they were in high school or something.

Something about this very young woman had him all discombobulated.

He shook his head to clear it and rang the buzzer on the side of the blue door. He liked the color; it was a deep-sea blue that might be interesting for the barns at the Ambling A.

An auburn-haired guy in his midtwenties opened the door. One of Lily’s three brothers, he presumed. He had on a pristine Kalispell Police Academy uniform, including a cap.

“Hey, you’re one of those Crawfords,” the guy said, his hazel eyes intense on Xander.

“I am. Xander Crawford, specifically. I haven’t broken any laws, have I? I haven’t been to Kalispell yet.”

The guy scrunched up in his face in confusion, then glanced down at his uniform. “Oh, this. I’m on my way to school. Not a cop yet, but I will be in a few months.” He eyed Xander, then looked behind him into the house, then turned back. “Got a minute?” he asked. “I was hoping to run into one of you, but I’m rarely in town during the day.” He extended his hand. “Andrew Hunt.”

Okay, now Xander was confused. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said. “So what can I—we—do for you?”

“I’m wondering about your overflow,” Andrew said, stepping out onto the porch and shutting the door.

“Overflow?” Xander repeated.

“I heard your father’s trying to get his sons married off and offered a wedding planner five million bucks to get the job done. A buddy told me that since then, all the places he goes in town to meet women have dried up. Even at Ace in the Hole, our place to play darts and always meet a few ladies, even if we already know them, there was no one there last Saturday night. Just a bunch of guys. Man, it was depressing.”

“One million,” Xander corrected—quite unnecessarily, but still. “And I see the problem.”

“So, I was thinking, if you’re on one of your dates and it doesn’t work out, maybe you could mention that you know a great guy in the police academy and set something up for after six, any night.”

Wait, now Xander was a matchmaker? Good Lord. “Look, Andrew, I—”

“I know, I know. But listen. I’m about to have my act totally together. I’m ready to settle down. And the playing field has been decimated. Your faults, dude.”

Xander had to give him that. “I see your point.”

“I’m just saying, if you want to mention my name and availability to any lovely lady you’re not interested in, I’d appreciate it.”

“I’m not interested in anyone,” Xander said—quickly. “This is my dad’s thing. Not mine.”

“Well, just think of me, leaping over walls at the academy and studying for my procedure quiz, a forty-five minute commute each way, all with the intended goal of serving and protecting our communities one day.”

Xander sighed. “I’ll see what I can do. What’s your type?”

“Nice,” Andrew said. “I like nice. My last girlfriend? Not so nice. Pretty, but ooh boy.”

Xander laughed. “Got it. Nice.” He shook his head at that one. “I’ll keep this between us.”

“Oh, no need,” Andrew said. “I’ve got the family on it, too, but they’re no help. You’d think having a sister a couple years younger would mean lots of introductions and dates, but nope. Lily’s either in the kitchen here or in the kitchen at the Maverick Manor or hunched over her laptop taking her online class. Thanks, Lily.” He smiled.

“Speaking of Lily, I’m actually here to see her.”

Andrew tilted his head. “Really? Why?”

Xander stared at him. “We’re friends.”

“Oh. Yeah, I figured you two couldn’t be dating. I mean, she’s super single, but I can’t even imagine her throwing her name into the hat to land some rich cowboy. No offense.”

“None taken,” Xander said with a smile. He could imagine how Lily had her hands full with this crew if the other three Hunts were anything like Andrew.

“So you’re on board?” Andrew asked. “With the overflow?”

“Sure,” Xander assured him.

“Awesome.” Andrew tipped his Kalispell Police Academy cap at Xander, then threw open the door. “Lily!” he bellowed. “Someone’s here to see you!” He headed past Xander to the driveway. “Later, dude,” he added amiably, jogging down to his car.

Wondering what he’d just gotten himself into, Xander watched Andrew drive off.

“Be right there!” he heard Lily call from somewhere in the house.

It was crazy, but the sound of that voice? His heart skipped a beat.

* * *

How many times had she told Andrew not to scream from one room to another? Lily was in the kitchen, working on a vegan entrée she hoped to introduce as an option at the Manor so that all their guests were covered, and she’d heard Andrew’s loud voice as though he were standing right beside her.

She took off her apron and washed her hands, figuring her visitor was Sarah, whom she’d texted to mention that Xander had come in for lunch earlier and had barged right into the kitchen to see her. She’d asked if that could possibly mean he did like her that way, even when all signs pointed to a friendship only.

Sarah had said men often didn’t know how they felt and figured it out as they went along or sometimes in one fell swoop. If she liked Xander that way, Sarah had texted, then she should go for it.

But it wasn’t Sarah in the hallway. It was Xander.

What on earth was he doing here?

And looking so incredibly gorgeous. She’d never seen him in his cowboy clothes. Dark jeans. Brown boots. A navy T-shirt. And a brown Stetson held against his stomach. Be still, my idiot heart, she thought. His slightly long hair curled a bit at the nape of his neck, and his dark brown eyes were on her. The man was too good-looking.

Dobby and Harry were sitting on either side of him, staring up at him. Dobby was sniffing his cowboy boot. Harry was giving him the once-over.

Xander knelt down and gave each dog a pat, earning wagging cinnamon-colored tails. “Well, you must be the famous Dobby and Harry I’ve heard so much about. And even though you look identical, I bet you’re Dobby and you’re Harry.”

“Name tags give it away every time,” Lily said with a grin. “They can never get away with switching places like most twins.”

He gave them both another pat and stood up. “I stopped by Maverick Manor to pay compliments to the chef from six other appreciative ranchers, and your friend AnnaBeth said you’d finished your shift, so I thought I’d stop by here and tell you.”

Okay, granted, Lily’s house was pretty close to Maverick Manor. She could walk there if her very old car broke down. But still, he went out of his way to go see her at the restaurant. Then out of his way again to “stop by” her house?

He liked her. Whether he knew it or not. Her stomach flipped—in a good way—and she had to stop herself from smiling like a lunatic.

Thank God for friends like Sarah who understood men! Crawford men, in particular.

“Something smells amazing,” he said, sniffing the air.

Okay, she loved when he complimented her cooking skills. “I’m working on a tofu dish for a vegan option at the Manor.”

“In cattle country? Well, if you can make tofu smell that good, I imagine it’ll be a hit. I’d pay a million bucks for a Lily Hunt hamburger.”

She laughed. “You’re going to give me a big head.”

“Hey, maybe you could give me a cooking lesson sometime. I’d pay you well for your time.” He named a crazy figure.

“Seriously? That much for one lesson?”

“Seriously. But I want to learn to make all my favorites. Teach me how to make that French dip. Teach me how to make fettuccini carbonara, which I crave every other day. Teach me how to make a pizza from scratch without burning the crust.”

Teach me how not to fall in love with you, she thought. She was practically a goner.

“Lily, any more of that par-something thingie left?” a male voice shouted from upstairs. Ryan, the brother closest in age to her.

Lily smiled and shook her head. “Parfait!” she called back, even though she’d never stop her brothers from yelling from room to room if she did it, too. “And no, you four attacked it and there was none left for me.”

“Sorry!” Ryan shouted back. “If you make more, make like five extra!”

“I see I’m not the only one who can’t resist your cooking,” Xander said. “Maybe I could observe as you make the tofu dish. Get a handle on the inner workings of a kitchen before we set up a formal lesson.”

Xander Crawford wanted to watch her make tofu? “Who cooks for you guys now?” she asked.

“We take turns burning food. Logan’s all right on the grill, but he moved out. We order in, pick up and go out a lot.”

She laughed. “Well, follow me, then.” She turned to the dogs. “Dobby and Harry, feel free to go back to snoozing in your sun patch.” The dogs waited a beat to see if the newcomer had a treat or rawhide chew for them, and since he didn’t pull anything out of his pocket, they lost interest and walked back to their big cushy bed by the window and curled up.

“That’s the life,” Xander said, smiling as he followed Lily through the living room, past the dining room and into the kitchen.

She’d never been so aware of someone following her into another room before. He was so tall, so built, so male that she almost melted into a puddle on the floor. She was very used to being surrounded by testosterone. But this was something entirely different.

Especially so close up. Because the kitchen wasn’t all that big and Xander was right beside her at the stove, his thigh almost touching hers.

Could she handle the heat? That was the question.

* * *

Xander was standing so close to Lily he could smell her shampoo—the scent a combination of flowers and suntan lotion. She wore green cargo pants, a white T-shirt covered by a red apron that read Try It, You’ll Like It, and weird orange rubber shoes. Her long red hair was in a messy bun on top of her head with what looked like a chopstick securing it.

His awareness of her clobbered him over the head. He used to argue with his brothers over whether a man could be friends with a woman he found sexually attractive, and some said yes and some said no way because the sexual element would always be there and that meant there was more than friendship at work. Xander believed a man could absolutely be friends with a woman.

Since when was he sexually attracted to Lily, anyway? Just because he was noticing every little thing about her? The orange rubber shoes were hard to miss. Right? He was here to learn about tofu, something he knew absolutely nothing about.

And something he had absolutely no interest in, too.

You didn’t even know she was making tofu until you were inside the house. You came here on pretense.

This was getting confusing. But an undeniable fact was that he was in this kitchen because he wanted to be around Lily. Listening to her. Talking to her. Looking at her.

He suddenly pictured her naked, coming out of the shower, all that lush red hair wet around her shoulders, water still beaded on her breasts and trailing down her stomach and into her navel. Every nerve ending went haywire and he shivered.

“Caught a chill?” she asked, glancing at him as she browned the little pieces of tofu in a fry pan. “I hate that. This morning I was making pancakes, fifty of them for the bottomless pits I call my brothers and father, and I suddenly got a chill even though I was standing right in front of a gas flame in August. Crazy.”

He was hardly chilled. Nope, not at all.

Now she was talking about sesame oil and how to make the tofu crispy for the stir-fry. She was saying something about cornstarch and pepper, but he’d stopped hearing her words and focused instead on her face and body.

Granted, she wasn’t curvy. Or big-breasted. Or remotely his usual type. But there was just something about her. He must be losing his mind because he thought it was the freckles. Or the green eyes. Or the wide smile. Or the way she talked so animatedly about the difference between a wok and a sauté pan.

“Going to make tofu stir-fry for your family tonight?” she asked him, holding out a piece of the brown crispy not-meat on a wooden spoon. She brought it up to his mouth, and he looked at her, then slid his lips around it.

She flushed.

He flushed.

He leaned closer.

She...backed away. As if she’d been there, done that, and had lived to tell the tale.

“I, uh, you...have sesame oil on your cheek,” he rushed to say, leaning a bit closer to dab it away. He forced himself not to lick it off his finger.

Saved. He hadn’t been about to kiss her. No sir.

He had to get out of this kitchen, this enclosed space, with this woman. She was his buddy, that was all. Even if he were attracted to her, she was too young and had big dreams that she should focus on. He was a grumbly, stomped-on, love-sucks guy who wasn’t getting over it anytime soon. She needed the male version of herself. A guy as great as she was.

Not that he wanted to think of her with any guy.

Oh hell. He needed to go find a Vanessa type and forget about this green-eyed, freckled, curveless chef who had him all discombobulated. Yes. That was what he needed. An airhead who wouldn’t make him think, wouldn’t challenge him, wouldn’t stab a dagger through his chest.

“Appreciate the lesson,” he said. “The Crawfords might not be ready for tofu, but I might surprise them one day.”

“So how do you want to schedule the cooking lesson?” she asked, stirring the pan.

“Let me check my calendar,” he said. “I’m pretty busy right now. In fact, I’d better get going. Later, buddy.”

He didn’t miss her face falling.

Buddy.

Cripes, Xander. You always go that step too far. Why had he added that unnecessary zinger?