Free A Bride at Last by Carolyne Aarsen

you.” Trace held out his hand to Grandma. She took it begrudgingly and quickly shook it. “And please call me Trace.”
    “I will.” She looked him over once and then turned away as if he wasn’t worth any more of her time. “I want you to come in, Nadine. It’s late and I’m sure both you and Mr. Bennet have an early day at work tomorrow.”
    “I’ll be in shortly, Grandma,” Nadine replied in a warning tone.
    Danielle was unrepentant. She glanced once morein Trace’s general direction. “Nice to meet you,” she said abruptly, her tone conveying anything but. As she left, Nadine turned apologetically to Trace.
    “Sorry about her. She takes notions. And the notion she has in her grip tonight is that she refuses to like anyone she hasn’t picked for me herself.”
    “That’s okay.” Trace slid his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders. “But I still want to see you again.” He winked at her and straightened. For a moment Nadine thought he was going to kiss her, but he only touched her cheek with one finger. “I’ll call,” he said softly. Then, turning, he left.
    Nadine watched him go, a sigh lifting her shoulders. She walked to the glass doors and watched as he drove away.
    After she’d dropped Jack and come back to Derwin, she hadn’t had time to date. Since her mother’s illness she hadn’t gone on a real date until tonight.
    Nadine wrinkled her nose and laughed shortly. And even that date had been manufactured.
    “Special delivery for you, Nadine.” Sharlene breezed into Nadine’s office two days later carrying a huge bouquet of white roses.
    Nadine reached for the flowers, surprised, pleased. Flowers. “Who are they from?”
    “That’s what I’d like to know. Here, this came with.” Sharlene handed Nadine an envelope. Nadine opened it and pulled out the small card, then smiled. Trace.
    She went off in search of a vase, carrying the flowers with her. She found a jar and was returning to her office, her nose buried in the bouquet, when she literally bumped into Clint Fletcher.
    He caught her by the elbows and steadied her, his eyes on the flowers.
    “A secret admirer?” he said, his expression serious.
    “This one’s not a secret,” she said with a smile. “They came from Trace.”
    He cocked an eyebrow at her, still not smiling. “The boyfriend?”
    Nadine didn’t like the ironic tone of his voice. “Yes. They were delivered here this morning,” she answered.
    “Well. He’s certainly expressing his affection in an atypical fashion.” Clint flicked a finger at the flowers. “I always labored under the impression that red roses were the flower of choice in a romance.”
    Where does he haul out that language? thought Nadine. “Well, labor no more, Fletcher. These days anything goes.” Nadine took a noisy sniff of her flowers, her eyes on Clint.
    “It would seem that way,” Clint said dryly.
    “Clint, can you come here a moment?” Wally, the other reporter, called out from the end of the hallway.
    She turned and watched him go, puzzled at his comment and his attitude.
    Shrugging off Clint’s reaction, she returned to heroffice. She had a few calls to make, some follow-up work to do and had to go over her mail.
    And it was Clint’s and her turn to “Face Off.”
    The weekly column was Dory Strepchuk’s legacy. Each week two of the staff of any of the three sister papers would take an opposing view on a controversial topic. This week, by some twist of fate, she and Clint had to go head-to-head on the topic “Should the Government Bail Out Large Companies?” Thankfully Clint had chosen the “yes” side.
    And that would be okay with her.
    Her phone was ringing as she stepped into her office. It was Trace.
    “Get my flowers?” he asked.
    “I did. Thanks so much. They’re beautiful.”
    “Not as beautiful as you are.” Trace chuckled. “I know that’s a pretty corny line, but it’s true. And you’re simply supposed to say thank-you.”
    Nadine tried