Celebrating the First Meet for Carter and Lynette ... by Delsora Lowe

I am not a plotter. As I sat down to write Carter’s story, I really had to think about the kind of woman who would be the most likely to NOT be his type. I already knew a lot about Carter, as he is the brother of Carla, the heroine in The Prince’s Son, book one of the Cowboys of Mineral Springs series. Carter has a prominent role as a secondary character in book one.

Truthfully, I can’t explain how my mind works. Or how the image of Lynette Mercer popped into my head. I think the scene idea came first, placing Carter in an awkward position as the oldest, serious brother in a ranching family, who was tasked to do something totally out of his comfort zone. It is in this scene that Carter meets the woman who is different than his usual date and not what he envisioned as his perfect wife. He deems her totally wrong for him. Of course, now he can’t get her out of his mind.

I hope you enjoy finding Carter, the ultimate, serious rancher, being thrown into a world so feminine he’s a nervous wreck. And then to meet an angel so far out of the realm of his dreams of a perfect mate, well…read on.

Wanted: A Suitable Wife

Workaholic cowboy needs hardy woman to manage household and motley family.
“Girly” widows, with small children, who sell naughty lingerie need not apply.

 EXCERPT 

The Rancher Needs a Wife

First Meet

“Damn.” Carter Peters' heart slammed in his chest. He removed his Stetson and shoved his fingers through his hair. What did he think? Lacy and frilly things would jump out and tangle around him the second he stepped foot inside. Yet, he stood rooted to the sidewalk in front of the Pink Petunia and muttered another curse. Then looked up and down the street to make sure no one in town saw him.

He straightened. He could do this. Didn’t mean he couldn’t curse out his entire family while he did.

Why did he always end up drawing the short straw? What did he know about women’s lingerie? He should’ve insisted his sister come with him. But when he suggested it, Carla laughed. “On your own, buddy.”

At least his brothers could have helped. Or his middle brother’s wife. or his other brother’s on-again off-again girlfriend. Any of them could have done the birthday shopping. Jeez, even his youngest brother’s talent for picking out gifts for women beat his. But no, they all refused.

And why did they insist the gift be lingerie?

He tried to remember the order of the family deliberations. Of course, he’d had his head bent over a pile of bills when his three brothers and sister invaded the ranch office for the family meeting. Keeping track of their conversation hadn’t been a high priority. That is until he pulled the shortest straw and found out the duty of buying something frilly for his stepmother’s sixtieth birthday fell to him.

He had pulled his head out of the pile of paperwork and shoved his chair back to stand and argue, only to see his sister’s grin, wide and mimicking the evil Cheshire cat—the same grin she tormented him with their entire childhood. They were adults now. He vowed at the next family meeting to change the rules from drawing straws to reaching consensus.

Double damn. He’d lose either way.

He stared at the storefront.

Lingerie. And for his stepmother, no less. He was going to kill Carla and his brothers.

Every time he thought about lace and silk and satin, all he could think about was the scanty kind he liked to see on a woman. A shudder ripped through him. Not going there.

That jolted him back to the present dilemma.

Growling another damn, he internalized the rest of the litany of curse words buzzing through his head. He’d rot in hell before he bought his stepmother night clothes resembling anything one of his dates might wear. Not that he had many lately, but none of these dates ended with the showing of sexy underclothing.

Carter looked down either side of Silver Street’s sidewalks once more, thankfully quiet for an early August morning. He shoved against the shop door. The last thing he needed was to get caught walking in or out of the Pink Petunia.

And who in the blazin’ saddles would name a shop Pink Petunia?

Tiny panties, lacy bras, and silky nighties in pinks, purple, and other girlie colors spread out around him. In the middle sat an entire display of see-through black things—whatever they were called.

Totally out of your element here, buddy.

He’d bet his favorite stallion that Carla and his sister-in-law were behind the insane idea of lingerie. Why would a sixty-year old woman, especially Madge, want anything this frilly…or pink?

Gripping his Stetson, his fingers beat a nervous path around the rim. Other than soft music, silence cloaked the place.

Did anyone work here?

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”

Simple words uttered in the voice of an angel. Words that meant the cavalry had arrived. The cavalry that clearly had not grown up around here—not with that deep southern accent.

His gaze skimmed the beautiful and put-together woman. He was so out of his element. He, a ranch boy through and through. She, citified and sophisticated.

Carter turned away. His cheeks burned as he repeatedly tapped his Stetson against his leg, and scanned the shelves and racks in another section of the tidy and compact store. “Thank you, ma’am. Truth is I’m not sure what I’m after.”

“Maybe I can help? Can you describe your wife—how tall, weight? You know, so I can figure out her size.”

Wife?

He shook his head, a knot forming in his belly. He didn’t belong here. Maybe Hal down at the feed store would know what he should ask for—he was married, and his wife’s figure was about like Madge’s. Before he headed back to the ranch, he had feed to fetch and lumber to load. Then he could call up and order something.

Get his ass out of this frilly, feminine hellhole.

Carter glanced toward the door and tried to think of an escape line. But when he looked back into violet eyes, his tongue wound round like spooled fencing wire.

Her hand landed warm on his forearm, reminding him of why he stood in this shop filled with frilly feminine apparel. “Do you know her size?”

“My stepmother?”

She smiled. “Oh, your stepmother.”

The tug on his arm compelled him deeper into unknown territory. Cattle herds he understood. Lingerie? Surrounded by acres of the stuff—no.

He straightened. Get your act together, cowboy. “I’m picking up a birthday present.”

Her smile widened, reaching all the way to those miraculous eyes. “Not a wife, then.” Tiny specks of sunshine danced among the violet in her eyes. “Tell me about your mom, ah, step-mom.”

 AUTHOR BIO

~ cottages to cabins ~ keep the home fires burning ~

Delsora Lowe writes small town sweet romances and contemporary westerns from the mountains of Colorado to the shores of Maine.

Author of the Starlight Grille series, Serenity Harbor Maine novellas, and the Cowboys of Mineral Springs series, Lowe has also authored short romances for Woman’s World magazine.

 

 

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