Wyoming Sweethearts by Jillian Hart Page A

screeching halt. He had only been going through the motions, which she was thankful for because she was definitely not interested in him. But still, it hurt. She wished it didn’t, but it did. She was twenty-four years old and she felt passed over and no longer attractive.
    Fine, that was vain. The Bible was full of warnings against vanity. But she wanted to feel young and whole and womanly, as she had before the accident, just like any other female her age.
    “Whew, dodged a bullet with that one.” Connie returned with a pot of coffee in hand. “I saw how pained you looked, so I thought I would give you an out. He looked bored, too.”
    “Of me, yes, but not when it came to himself,” she quipped. Poor George. She hoped he was able to live out his ten-year plan. Everyone deserved a good future. She moved her cane forward and took a step. “Thanks, Connie. I appreciate it more than you know.”
    “Anytime.” Connie went on her way with coffee pot in hand.
    “Eloise!” A familiar baritone rang warmly across the diner. Sean studied her over the top of a soda glass. It was hard to say what he might be thinking. His darkblue eyes watched her speculatively as she turned away from the front door and ambled down the aisle. His forehead furrowed. “That date looked painful.”
    “Yes, thanks for noticing.” She stopped at their table, feeling awkward. “Hi, Mr. Granger.”
    “Hi, Eloise. Haven’t seen you around the ranch lately.” Frank set his soda glass on the table. “I’m surprised you and Cheyenne aren’t out riding. The weather’s good for it.”
    “We have plans later in the week.” Another perk about living here again. Horseback rides on lazy summer afternoons had been some of the best parts of her childhood. “I guess that means I’ll see you around, Sean.”
    “I just wanted to make sure you were all right after that experience.” He broke off a piece of bread from the basket on the table and swiped butter over it. “It looked as if he wasn’t being very nice to you.”
    “It was a blind date. I wasn’t what he was expecting.” She shrugged it off. George might not be her idea of a catch, but surely the Lord had made someone just for him. Somewhere there was a woman who cut her steak in precise cubes and chewed exactly twenty-two times and prayed for her soul mate. Eloise liked to think they would find each other. “I can only imagine what my grandmother told his grandmother about me.”
    “A lot of good things,” Sean insisted.
    “
Only
the good things,” she corrected. “Gran left out everything else, especially the cane.”
    “Any man who doesn’t like your pretty pink cane isn’t worthy of you.” He spoke up like the friend he had become.
    “That’s nice. Thanks.” Sweetness filled her, which
had
to be gratitude of the highest magnitude and notany other emotion—like interest. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
    “Wedding stuff. Mrs. G. was whisked away to help view the wedding dress, leaving Uncle Frank and me to fend for ourselves.”
    “You poor men. Don’t either of you know how to cook?”
    “Sure, but we didn’t want to.” He popped a bite of bread into his mouth. His stomach growled, betraying exactly how hungry he was. It would have been expedient to have tossed something on the barbecue. “This way, no dishes. We’re smarter than we look.”
    “So I see.” Mirth drew up the corner of her mouth and put little lights into her green irises.
    Not that he ought to be noticing. Not that his chest should be tight and achy over seeing her on that date. When the other guy had walked off and left her standing there, relief had hit him in the gut. For a moment he had to wonder if he cared for her more than he wanted to admit, but that couldn’t be possible, could it? Ever since his heart was broken, he’d become a lone wolf. A man who needed no one. What he felt for Eloise couldn’t be rebound feelings or romantic glimmers or anything like that.
    He