“You got it, Edna. Gotta make the ranch’s latest employee feel welcome,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “I want something special for her.”
Edna’s lips pursed as she gave a long “Oooh” and clapped her hands together.
“Okay. I have some delicious profiteroles, cute and small. Filled with a delicate Chantilly cream. She’ll love them,” she suggested, pointing them out in the case.
Marshall’s mouth went dry.
“You had me at Chantilly cream. I’ll take six.”
The woman took a small box from the shelf under the till and began to fill it with the rich, chocolate-covered pastries. “So, how’s it going with the new accountant? I heard she was out for beers with you guys at The Dusty Spur the other day.” Edna waggled her eyebrows, clearly not done digging for more gossip. Marshall’s brows knitted together as they wondered what the chances were that Edna wasn’t setting them up together in her mind already. Quite low.
Well, Edna would be pleased.
“She’s nice. Works hard. She’s a great fit,” Marshall revealed. “Hope she’ll stay for a while.”
Edna stilled, her eyes widening. She cast a look at her daughter, who choked on a sip of water. “Well, isn’t that lovely. I’ll make sure and wrap them with extra care.” Edna gave him a knowing smile.
Tucking his hands in his pockets and swaying nervously on his heels, he watched as she wrapped a cream ribbon around the box and tied a neat bow. She pulled a flower from a bouquet sitting behind the till, clipped the stem and tucked it in the bow.
“That’s beautiful. Thanks, Edna,” Marshall said, taking the package from the baker’s hands. “She’s going to love them.”
“June dropped off fresh flowers today and I thought they would look amazing. I was right, as usual,” Edna said, poking her daughter in the ribs with an elbow. Imogen rolled her eyes and shook her head, sending a wave to Marshall as he headed for the door.
His chest felt lighter as he stepped onto the sidewalk. It had been a long time since he had visited the bakery. Never in his life had he shopped for a woman. Colette made him want to shower her in gifts and take care of her, which was terrifying. And thrilling.
A smile teased his lips as he watched the sun setting over the foothills.
There must be some magic to treating a woman the way she deserved. An unfamiliar warmth filled him as he imagined surprising her. Gosh, he was in trouble.
June’s flower farm was on the way to the ranch, and Marshall was inspired to make a stop before heading home. It wouldn’t hurt to pick up some flowers, too. It had been a while since he had seen the local flower farmer, June Miller, and he had a few things to discuss with her. He had been struck with inspiration and hoped June would help him with a new project on the ranch.
He was ready to stomp all over his fuckboy past and throw caution to the wind. If Colette wanted to take a chance on him, he wouldn’t be afraid.
Marshall grinned as he turned onto the long driveway leading to the ranch. Nervous energy bubbled in his chest, and he wondered if he was being foolish. He had no idea what he was doing, only that it was the absolute opposite of how he treated women in the past.
He wanted Colette to feel special.
Not disposable or forgettable.
She had given him a gift the other night and he wanted more. He pulled up to the guest house as night was settling in, a soft hue of light blue and yellow remaining on the horizon, the last dregs of the gorgeous prairie sunset. As usual, all the lights were on, and Colette was busy somewhere in the house. With a steadying breath, he raised his hand to knock on the door, then lowered it. Was he making the right decision?
Or was he a fool walking down a path of no return?
CHAPTER 25
Marshall knocked on the door and waited, jitters coursing through his body.
Colette opened the door, eyes narrow and a playful smile on her face. She wore those damn light pink pajamas, the ones covered with little roses. Marshall had yet to see anyone prettier than her. Ever. It was unsettling.
The familiar sound of her eighties music was floating around her, clutching at his heart. Colette was a woman from another time. She made him want to be romantic and dreamy, swoon-worthy and seductive. She inspired him to write poetry and dance in the kitchen—though he would sure as fuck not write her poetry because it would be terrible. She was worth more than a few texts and a quick fuck, deserving of more than what he had given the women he had previously dated.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Come back for more fun?” She licked her lips and dragged her gaze up his body.
His groin tightened immediately under her scrutiny. Marshall cleared his throat, searching for his words. He had practiced the speech in the truck. Apparently, Colette made his mind go blank.
“Before I say anything, I want to be sure,” he stuttered. “Are you…” His heart raced as he attempted to let the words out. Colette tilted her head, a smile teasing her mouth and her eyes dancing with amusement. She loved watching him squirm, apparently.
“Yeah…?” she encouraged. “Am I what?”
