Chapter One

Chapter One

"I

think he's going to propose." The words spoken by the redhead were dreamy. Her strawberry blonde curls softly framed her face in delicate, cheery wisps, like a lover's kiss. Her green eyes were as wide as a doe's filled with hope and anticipation.

"Are you out of your mind?" The second redhead glared. Her bone straight red hair was more the color of an apple than a strawberry. A classic red that was vibrant and deep. The color that most imagined when someone thought of a redhead. The eyes were the exact same shade of green. Instead of eagerness, her brow quirked with incredulity. "We only went on two dates. And I didn't even realize the first one was actually a date until it was over."

"The third date is dinner with the family," the third redhead of the bunch said. Her pixie cut locks were of the darkest shade of red; the color auburn. A shade that touched the color brown but was far from mousy. "You know what that means."

Charlotte Lee caught sight of her own reflection in the kitchen window. It was easy to catch sight of herself. She was the mousey brown-haired girl in the bunch of tall, statuesque, vibrant redheads with porcelain skin. Charlotte's tanned skin wasn't a product of the sun, rather a gift from her father, who'd brought it over with him from Shanghai as a college student.

"This isn't a date," said the classic red. Eliza Bennett rolled her eyes as she towered over the top of her sisters' heads. The eye roll was meant solely for Charlotte, as though her best friend was the only one who understood her. "Will you tell them, Charlie?"

Charlotte didn't bother answering her friend. She knew the edict was entirely rhetorical. Not a full second later, Eliza proved that by providing a statement in answer to her own question.

"What man in his right mind would ask a woman who is clearly trying to ghost him to marry him?"

Fair point, Charlotte thought to herself. She also wondered if Eliza was still being rhetorical since she answered her question with a question? Was that, instead, ironic?

English hadn't been Charlotte's strong point in school. Her strengths had come in the after-school animal husbandry program, where she'd spent time with the other kids whose parents worked long hours.

Charlotte's parents didn't work long hours. Or at least she supposed they didn't. She couldn't imagine that souls had to work in heaven. Back here on earth, Charlotte had stayed after school learning to work with farm animals because it was better being there than in her aunt's home and constantly being in the way. Or being reminded that she was an unwanted and unwelcome burden.

"Collin invited himself over to talk business with Dad," Eliza said as though that was the end of the conversation.

The girls peered around the corner of the kitchen that led into the dining area. There, a barrel-chested John Bennett sat across from a tall and lanky Collin Hunsford. Mr. Bennett sipped at his coffee, thumbing through the day's newspaper. Collin looked out the window toward where the Bennetts’s prized race horse grazed his evening meal. Neither man had spoken a word since Collin had come to the door.

Collin looked up just then. In a choreographed move, the three Bennett sisters pirouetted, turning away from the corner and leaping out of sight. Charlotte missed the beat and was left standing on stage under the glaring spotlight of Collin's piercing blue gaze.

Charlotte had had two left feet all her life. There was no way she could twirl away without falling down flat. She couldn't have lifted up onto her tippy toes if she'd tried because the heels of her worn, hand-me-down cowboy boots were rooted to the ground. So there she stood, caught in Collin's gaze.

Collin Hunsford had that type of gaze that stripped away all of the fluff and saw right to the heart of the matter. Unlike all the other guys she'd grown up with, Collin didn't shout others down to be heard. He only spoke if spoken to and only responded when he knew the answer. Otherwise, his attention was wholly and entirely devoted to the animals in his care.

Charlotte had spent a fair amount of her time in the after-school program studying him to know that fact about him. Though Collin never spared her a second glance. Most boys didn't.

Even now, his gaze slipped past her. Searching out Eliza, no doubt. Which is exactly as it should be. Since the man was courting her best friend's favor.

Charlotte should probably get out of the way so that he could see better. Before she could do the courtesy of moving aside, Collin turned his attention back to the window. His gaze on the horse grazing outside.

Maybe Jane and Lydia were wrong? Maybe Collin wasn't here to propose to Eliza? What man proposed after two dates outside of a romance novel?

Collin appeared far more interested in Lefroy. The Bennetts’s prize-winning stallion had been having some trouble with his joints of late. Charlotte had noticed his gait was off when she'd ridden him earlier. It's something she would've told his trainer, Bert. Except they had sent Bert off with a grand retirement this past weekend. The lights were out at the little cottage at the edge of the property. It sat empty, waiting for Mr. Bennett to make a decision about its new occupant.

"Whatever he's doing here has nothing to do with me," Eliza was saying.

"Oh?" said Lydia. "Then why does he have a bulge in his side pocket?"

Three red heads whipped back around the corner in search of evidence. Charlotte had already pulled away, out of step once more. She didn't need a second glance at Collin. She'd already caught one glimpse and could recall every detail of the man.

The man was tall and lean. He had classic features that would make him handsome if he ever smiled. Which he rarely did. Not that she was counting his smiles. Or his frowns.

There was a quiet intensity to Collin Hunsford that often called Charlotte's eyes to him. So it was no wonder that she had seen a definite bulge in his pants pocket when he'd arrived for family dinner with the Bennetts.

"Trust me," said Eliza. "It's not what you think it is."

"I thought it was a man's feet that told you about...you know," said Lydia.

"Lydia," admonished Jane, her cheeks pinkening.

"No," said Eliza. "I think it's actually the nose."

"Eliza," huffed Jane, her cheeks now a full-on red blush.

Eliza and Lydia threw their heads back and laughed, their own cheeks turning red with the effort. Charlotte couldn't hide the giggle that rose in her throat. Jane was the Bennet sister who was always easy to rile up with her proper manners.

It was at times like these where Charlotte loved that she had been welcomed into the Bennett family. This house had always been a warm and welcoming haven. The complete opposite to her aunt's cold apartment where Charlotte had had to sit still, be quiet, and know her place. Here at the Bennett Ranch, Charlotte had learned to run, she'd learned to shout, she'd learned to ride.

Mr. Bennett had never said no when Eliza asked if Charlotte could spend the night. But in the morning, after a hearty breakfast of banana pancakes, he'd load Charlotte up in his truck and take her back to her aunt's where Charlotte would count the days, the hours, the minutes until the weekend would return and she could return to stay another night.

And now, with Bert retired, Charlotte was hoping she could go into that old cottage and have a place to stay, a place of her own, surrounded by her favorite people in the world. But to do that, she had to convince Mr. Bennett that she—a recent community college graduate with only volunteer experience and an internship—was the best candidate for horse trainer.

"Eliza, dear, you're being rude to your guest," called Mr. Bennet. The older man caught Charlotte's gaze from the dining room. He grinned as though she were in on some joke. Charlotte grinned back.

As a little girl, she'd secretly dreamed that Mr. Bennett would adopt her and bring her to live here at their ranch. She certainly spent enough time here after Eliza had decided they would be friends. But Charlotte supposed the widower had his hands full with three rambunctious girls of his own. He couldn't handle another.

Charlotte was no longer a little orphan with her hand out. She was a grown woman with a degree and qualifications. She had her fingers and toes crossed that nepotism would be on her side when she made her pitch for the trainer job.

"I'm helping Jane with dinner," called Eliza from the opposite side of the kitchen from the stove where she was ardently helping the wall stand tall by leaning against it. "And he's not my guest. We broke up."

That last bit was said under her breath, only loud enough for the women gathered in the kitchen to hear it.

"Does he know that, Eliza?" asked Jane, pulling a fragrant roast surrounded by potatoes and squash from the oven.

"He should since I haven't been returning his texts or calls all week." Eliza kicked off the wall, following the scent of the dish.

One by one, the girls filed out of the kitchen. Lydia behind Jane, who took a seat at the far end of the table. Charlotte followed behind Eliza, bringing up the rear. When she entered the dining room, there were only two seats left. One diagonally across from Collin. The other right beside him.

It was no wonder that Eliza dashed off to the other side of the table, and Charlotte wound up sitting right next to Collin. Once again, he didn't spare her a glance as she sat down. He stood when the four women entered the room. Four pairs of eyes zeroed in on the man's front pocket. There was a definite bulge in there.

"You look well tonight, Elizabeth," said Collin. "Very healthy."

"Thank you," said Eliza stiffly.

"There's something I wanted to talk with you about," Collin began. "Do you think we could—"

"Is it about The Pemberley Races?" said Eliza. "I hear Darcy is bringing in some big television star as a draw. Did you hear that, Dad?"

Mr. Bennett didn't look up from carving the roast. "No, can't say that I have."

"Any idea who that might be?" asked Lydia, her gaze on Collin as she twirled a dark tendril of hair.

"Uh, no," said Collin, who was still standing. He ran his hands down his pants, passing over the bulge in his side pocket. "As I was saying, Eliza—"

"I'll bet it's Carlos Bingley, the star of that Telenovela," said Lydia. "What's it called again, Jane?"

"Ummm, I can't remember." Jane's gaze was fixated on the hump of something that was slowly creeping up the lining of Collin's pocket.

"Elizabeth, it's really important that I speak with you privately."

"There's nothing you can have to say to me that you can't say in front of my family."

Collin looked at each Bennett in turn. He didn't spare a glance for Charlotte. Which she supposed was fine, as she wasn't officially a part of this family. Even though she'd been invited by Eliza, who had been calling and texting her all week as per usual of best friends.

Eliza slid Charlotte a wary glance, rolling her eyes as she cut into her helping of roast. Eliza often rolled her eyes due to the world misunderstanding her. She explained to Charlotte that being misunderstood was the plight of the middle child. Charlotte had not understood the sentiment when Eliza always spoke loudly and clearly of her beliefs and her demands.

"So be it." Collin nodded.

He reached into his pants pocket. Everyone held their breath… and then let out a collective yelp when he pulled out what looked like a weapon. But, being that they had all grown up on a ranch, they each knew it was a horse twitch.

"Told you," said Eliza, raising her brow.

Collin wasn't done emptying his pockets. Next, he brought out a ring box. The next sound around the table was complete and utter silence.