Second Chance Bride (Montana Born Brides) by Trish Morey

twenties on the table and saw Scarlett eyeing the stack. “Is that enough?” he said for a joke, and she nodded. “Good tip, too.”
    Robbo looked disappointed that the party might be breaking up so early. “Mitch,” he said, “before you go, can I have a word?”
    “Go ahead you two,” Scarlett said. “I’ll see you back at the villa,” and she bade them all a good night.
    “I’m sorry, mate,” Robbo said, when they were far enough away. “I came on a bit strong before.”
    “No,” Mitch said. “I shouldn’t have asked you what I did.”
    “Well...” Robbo’s head bobbed from side to side. “When it comes down to it, I have been having doubts.”
    “About Kristelle?”
    “Yeah, that too. And Kristelle’s been so insistent on you being here for the wedding it got me wondering whether she was having second thoughts and I guess you got me at a raw moment. But I can see you’re happy with Scarlett and frankly, I can see why. She’s a top sheila.”
    “Yeah. That she is.”
    “So, no hard feelings. And I really mean it this time.”
    “Sure, no hard feelings.”

    He let himself into the villa. “Everything okay?” she asked.
    “Yeah,” he said, still worried about Robbo. But only until he caught sight of Scarlett in that mini and those boots again.
    “Time for bed?” he said, ever hopeful, as he headed for the bathroom to do his teeth.
    “I was thinking of a swim in the plunge pool first.”
    His eyebrows shot up, his toothbrush barely in his hand, as he remembered all those mermaid pictures he’d thought of before. The plunge pool would do nicely in the interim. Very nicely.
    “I’ll just grab my shorts,” he said, about to change his mind and head for the dressing room.
    She appeared at the door, wearing only her scarlet hair. “What do you need swim shorts for?”
    Good question.
    They made love in the pool, slow, slick love until they were too weary of trying to keep their heads above water, and then they moved to the bed, where they made love all over again.
    Afterward, as she was lying in the crook of Mitch’s arm watching the lazy rotations of the ceiling fan in the shadowed light, she said, “I think I will send a postcard to Travis. And it’ll say, ‘ Having a ball in Broome. Give my love to your wife and kids’ .”
    “Would you do that?”
    “No, tempting though it is. In fact, I actually should thank him. I wouldn’t be here with you in Broome without that little disaster.” She held out her arms toward the ceiling, “Thank you Travis!” she said to the universe. “You asshat.”
    Mitch chuckled beside her and she dug him in the ribs. “Hey, you should thank Travis too.”
    “Me?”
    “Sure. You got what you wanted didn’t you? A Rottweiler to protect you from the clutches of the evil Kristelle.”
    Yeah, he had. But it wasn’t Travis he owed thanks to.
    Travis might have dropped her in his metaphoric lap, but it was his little sister who’d stopped him from walking away. It was Callie, who’d made him wait long enough to have coffee with Scarlett and make sure she was okay. Callie, who’d given him time to come up with this plan.
    Thank you, Callie , he said silently, as he drew Scarlett closer into the crook of his arm.
    “You are one hell of a Rottweiler. And there was me thinking you were going to give Kristelle the benefit of the doubt. You came out all guns blazing.”
    “Yeah,” she said, smiling against his shoulder. “So maybe I had a hunch.”
    He sighed and for a moment she thought he was going to sleep, and then he said. “Now I’ve got a hunch.”
    “What about?”
    “I’m thinking you should talk to Sharon.”
    “What about?”
    “About her being an accountant.”
    “Why?”
    “Because you’re good with numbers. When you’re not working out restaurant bills, you’re working on those damned puzzles.”
    She shrugged. “They’re just Sudoku.”
    “Yeah, but they’re numbers.”
    “I thought accountants were supposed to be