The Most Eligible Bachelor Romance Collection: Nine Historical Romances Celebrate Marrying for All the Right Reasons by Gina Welborn and Kathleen Y’Barbo Erica Vetsch Connie Stevens Gabrielle Meyer Shannon McNear Cynthia Hickey Susanne Dietze Amanda Barratt Page A
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she’s competing for the thousand dollars.”
He didn’t look arrogant. He looked stricken. Still, Josie’s stomach soured. Estelle York pursuing Daniel, for prize money or himself, wasn’t a happy thought.
“A cat seems an odd token of affection.”
“Chocolate would have been fine,” he joked. “Can’t say as I mind the muffins I got, or the notes waiting here when I got into work. But pets are personal. I have to give it back.”
He’d received goodies and notes? From women? Then some of the town’s maidens took Wilson’s ridiculous ad at its word. Her hands trembling, Josie tucked the protesting cat back into the basket. “If you want, I’ll keep the kitten until you return her to Estelle.”
Leaving with a cat but no architect for the Mothers’ Home wasn’t her plan, but sometimes it was best to accept God’s surprises.
“Tilly would hate competing for your affection.” He smiled at the name of her terrier.
She stood. “I have plenty of love for all.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” He rose then looked past her. His expression tightened.
A slender woman paused at the threshold. A plain bonnet framed a pale face and a determined jaw. “Mr. Blair, architect?”
Mrs. Crabtree pushed around the woman, her hand clutching the lacy jabot at her throat. “I told her to wait, sir, but she got away from me.” Her gaze skimmed down the woman’s gray cotton skirt to its muddy hem with the same look of disdain she’d given Josie’s trousers.
“I understand, Mrs. Crabtree.” Daniel crossed the office and extended his hand. “I’m Daniel Blair. May I help you?”
With scabbed, shaking fingers, the woman took his hand. Then she withdrew a soiled scrap of newspaper from her pocket. Josie’s gaze lifted. The woman wasn’t slender, after all. More gaunt. Like she could use a few plates of pot roast and a warm place to sleep.
Josie’s stomach sank. What foolish, wishful thinking that no one would take the ad to heart. She well knew from her work with the Ladies’ Aid Society how bleak things could be. A thousand dollars could save a woman from poverty or worse. Wilson was teasing females and torturing Daniel, all for an edge in a contest.
And Daniel was such a good man, he would want to help these women. Might even come to love one. What intelligent woman wouldn’t want his sweet, giving heart?
Her skin went cold. The basket slipped from her hands.
Daniel’s thighs ached from pedaling his cycle uphill a few miles back, but he’d reached the most pleasant part of the route he and Wilson had chosen for their race next month. He zipped through the entrance to Golden Gate Park on Stanyan Street and thought through the course. Seven miles in all, the race wouldn’t prove a challenge for either of them. That wasn’t the point. Josie didn’t understand that competition was how Wilson showed affection, and Daniel had always gone along with it for the sake of their friendship.
Although a true friend shouldn’t do what Wilson had done.
Within minutes, he rounded Strawberry Hill, breathing in the fruity perfume of the wild berries. He’d pushed harder than usual this morning, as if cycling faster would ferry him away from his problems. Or rather, his new admirers.
None showed interest before the reward. Which was why all this female attention—pleasant though it might be—kept him from getting too smug.
If anything, the whole mess made his stomach hurt. And pinched his wallet. He’d taken out his own ad decrying Wilson’s ad as a prank, but the cash prize on his heart promised by Wilson’s daily ad proved irresistible to some, three in particular: Estelle York, the raven-haired Olive Gloss, and architect’s daughter Goldie Addis.
Then there were the ladies already in his life, who were not the least bit happy with him. Mrs. Beake put a handwritten sign on the door shooing women away before they could knock. Mrs. Crabtree threatened to do the same. He’d just ordered enormous
He didn’t look arrogant. He looked stricken. Still, Josie’s stomach soured. Estelle York pursuing Daniel, for prize money or himself, wasn’t a happy thought.
“A cat seems an odd token of affection.”
“Chocolate would have been fine,” he joked. “Can’t say as I mind the muffins I got, or the notes waiting here when I got into work. But pets are personal. I have to give it back.”
He’d received goodies and notes? From women? Then some of the town’s maidens took Wilson’s ridiculous ad at its word. Her hands trembling, Josie tucked the protesting cat back into the basket. “If you want, I’ll keep the kitten until you return her to Estelle.”
Leaving with a cat but no architect for the Mothers’ Home wasn’t her plan, but sometimes it was best to accept God’s surprises.
“Tilly would hate competing for your affection.” He smiled at the name of her terrier.
She stood. “I have plenty of love for all.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” He rose then looked past her. His expression tightened.
A slender woman paused at the threshold. A plain bonnet framed a pale face and a determined jaw. “Mr. Blair, architect?”
Mrs. Crabtree pushed around the woman, her hand clutching the lacy jabot at her throat. “I told her to wait, sir, but she got away from me.” Her gaze skimmed down the woman’s gray cotton skirt to its muddy hem with the same look of disdain she’d given Josie’s trousers.
“I understand, Mrs. Crabtree.” Daniel crossed the office and extended his hand. “I’m Daniel Blair. May I help you?”
With scabbed, shaking fingers, the woman took his hand. Then she withdrew a soiled scrap of newspaper from her pocket. Josie’s gaze lifted. The woman wasn’t slender, after all. More gaunt. Like she could use a few plates of pot roast and a warm place to sleep.
Josie’s stomach sank. What foolish, wishful thinking that no one would take the ad to heart. She well knew from her work with the Ladies’ Aid Society how bleak things could be. A thousand dollars could save a woman from poverty or worse. Wilson was teasing females and torturing Daniel, all for an edge in a contest.
And Daniel was such a good man, he would want to help these women. Might even come to love one. What intelligent woman wouldn’t want his sweet, giving heart?
Her skin went cold. The basket slipped from her hands.
Daniel’s thighs ached from pedaling his cycle uphill a few miles back, but he’d reached the most pleasant part of the route he and Wilson had chosen for their race next month. He zipped through the entrance to Golden Gate Park on Stanyan Street and thought through the course. Seven miles in all, the race wouldn’t prove a challenge for either of them. That wasn’t the point. Josie didn’t understand that competition was how Wilson showed affection, and Daniel had always gone along with it for the sake of their friendship.
Although a true friend shouldn’t do what Wilson had done.
Within minutes, he rounded Strawberry Hill, breathing in the fruity perfume of the wild berries. He’d pushed harder than usual this morning, as if cycling faster would ferry him away from his problems. Or rather, his new admirers.
None showed interest before the reward. Which was why all this female attention—pleasant though it might be—kept him from getting too smug.
If anything, the whole mess made his stomach hurt. And pinched his wallet. He’d taken out his own ad decrying Wilson’s ad as a prank, but the cash prize on his heart promised by Wilson’s daily ad proved irresistible to some, three in particular: Estelle York, the raven-haired Olive Gloss, and architect’s daughter Goldie Addis.
Then there were the ladies already in his life, who were not the least bit happy with him. Mrs. Beake put a handwritten sign on the door shooing women away before they could knock. Mrs. Crabtree threatened to do the same. He’d just ordered enormous
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