Free A Bride for Dry Creek by Janet Tronstad

boyfriend,” Flint said as he walked to Francis. It was inevitable. The evening had been doomed from the start.
    â€œI hope I’m more than a boyfriend,” the man said, a little smugly, Flint thought, as he reached Francis and leaned over to peck her on her lips. “Now that she’s had time away to think about things.”
    â€œSam.” Francis marveled that her voice sounded calm. She felt a growing urge to scream. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œWell, I got to thinking. It’s time you came back—how much thinking can a woman do?” The man laughed a little too heartily. “So I flew up to get you.”
    â€œNow’s not a good time.”
    â€œOh, I know. The inspector was telling me there’s been lots of excitement here tonight. Seemed to think I’d be better off going back to Billings for the night, but I told him it was nonsense. It would take more than a few bad guys to rattle my Francis. She’s the most sensible woman I’ve ever known.”
    Flint thought the man must be blind to think “sensible” summed up a woman like Francis. Didn’t he see the shy warmth in her eyes when she first met someone? Hadn’t he felt the slight tremble of her lips when she was kissed?
    â€œKnown a lot of women, have you?” Flint asked the man. He refused to think of the man as Sam. As far as Flint was concerned, the man had no name. And no future.
    â€œHuh?”
    Flint admitted the man didn’t look like he could have known many women, but that didn’t stop Flint from resenting him. “Just checking up on your background.”
    â€œFlint’s with the FBI,” Francis said, tight-lipped with annoyance. “He checks up on everybody.”
    â€œOh, well, that’s okay then.” The man smiled at Flint and held out his hand. “Always nice to meet one of our nation’s security men. Men like you keep us all safe.”
    Flint grunted. The man made it sound like Flint was a school crossing guard. Important enough forsomeone who did that sort of thing. Flint wondered if Francis actually loved the guy. He glared at the man until the man dropped his hand.
    â€œYou own a house?” Flint knew women loved big houses.
    â€œA bedroom loft condo in downtown Denver,” the man said with pride. “The Executive Manor complex.”
    Flint grunted. Close enough. The only house he could claim as his own was sitting just north of here on five desolate acres only chickens could love.
    â€œFrancis would want a tree or two.”
    The man looked startled. “I told her we could get a few ficus plants. They’d do.”
    Flint nodded. Francis just might settle for them, after all. Suddenly, Flint felt old. He had lived too hard and fast. At least the man standing before him looked stable. Maybe that was enough.
    â€œYou ever kill a man?”
    â€œI beg your pardon?” The man was looking at Flint in alarm.
    â€œIt’s a simple question—ever been in the military?”
    The man shook his head. “Bad feet.”
    â€œEver been arrested?”
    â€œOf course not.” The man was indignant. “And I certainly don’t see the point of these questions—if I’m under suspicion for something I have a rightto know. And if you’re planning to arrest me, I demand a chance to call my attorney.”
    Flint smiled wryly. He almost wished he could arrest the man. “No, I’m just checking up on you.”
    â€œWell, I’ll let it go this time,” the man said pompously. “Mostly because the inspector here said you’d rescued Francis from those hoodlums. I should be thanking you for helping my fiancée, not sitting here arguing.”
    â€œFiancée.” Flint felt a cold draft down his neck. It appeared the ficus had won.
    â€œI never agreed to marry you.” Francis felt the need to sit down and start counting. Everything was unraveling.