Free The Princess of Coldwater Flats by Nancy Bush

it’s time I got married, anyway.”
    She wrapped up the remains of her sandwich and threw a few bits on the ground for the birds skipping along the grass, then dropped the sack into a nearby garbage can. Tess did the same.
    “Well, I wish I’d been right about Mr. Cooper. I thought for sure he’d help you.” Tess sighed.
    “Mr. Ryan thought he was helping me by giving me some advice.”
    “Nobody who offers free advice is helping. Free advice is just what it’s worth—nothin’.” They walked toward the front doors of the bank. “You’re really thinking about marrying some guy just to save the Triple R?”
    “I’m thinking about marriage to get married,” Sammy Jo corrected firmly, though she knew it was a lie. A half-lie, anyway.
    “Well, you must have somebody at the top of your list.”
    “My dad favored Tommy Weatherwood.”
    “Oh, Sammy Jo.”
    Tess’s look of sheer horror made Sammy Jo grin. “Actually, I was thinking about driving over to Rollins Real Estate.”
    Tucking her arms beneath her breasts, Tess gave Sammy Jo a long look. “Brent’s been sweet on you since sixth grade. You be nice.”
    “What do you mean?” Sammy Jo demanded, affronted.
    “You better be serious about this, or someone’s like to get hurt.”
    Sammy Jo stared after her, openmouthed. She had no intention of hurting Brent or anyone else. Unless that last remark had been meant for her. “I’m not going to get hurt,” she muttered, striding toward her pickup.
    It was scarcely necessary to drive the five blocks to Granger’s Shopping Center, home of Rollins Real Estate, the local Safeway and various other shops, but Sammy Jo felt like having her newly washed blue pickup close by. Expecting the need for a fast getaway? she asked herself, pulling into an empty spot in front of the shoe repair shop. Across the street was Bentley Feed and Grain. Grimacing, Sammy Jo made a mental note to stop by soon though she already had a substantial bill there.
    A bell tinkled above the door to the real estate office. Ducking her head inside, Sammy Jo saw there was no one at the reception desk.
    “Hello.” she called, leaning around the counter. Presently, a flustered looking woman, Brent Rollins’s younger sister, Connie, appeared.
    “Hi, Sammy Jo,” she said. “I was moving some boxes around. Old files. Did you want something?”
    “I was looking for Brent.”
    “He’s sitting an open house down in Shady Glen, at 874 Dellwood Lane.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Any particular reason you want to see him?” she called after Sammy Jo, her curiosity apparently getting the better of her.
    Only to ask him to marry me.
    Sammy Jo didn’t bother stopping long enough to answer. She ground the pickup’s gears as she turned its nose toward Shady Glen.
    It was a stupid plan, but it was all she had. And anyway, marriage wouldn’t be so bad. Besides, Brent Rollins was just one name on the list of possibles. There were lots of eligible bachelors with enough cash to pull her out of her financial slump.
    Sammy Jo wrinkled her nose. That sounded so mercenary, but desperate times called for desperate measures. So, she’d start with Brent and work her way down. Next on the list, Tommy Weatherwood.
    “Ugh,” she muttered, smoothing back a strand of hair. She wasn’t that desperate. Yet.
    She thought of Cooper. The rugged planes of his face seemed to continually cross her vision. But he was off limits, out of bounds. She needed someone she could control, and if she were going to sell her soul, by God, it wasn’t going to be to some misogynistic, corporate demon with an attitude about women. Uh-uh.
    So, Brent Rollins it was.
    Pulling into the tree-canopied driveway of 874 Dellwood Lane, she felt her heart in her throat. She had to swallow several times to work up any saliva at all and was annoyed that she was so nervous. It was just Brent. Heck, she’d held him down in second grade and kissed him until he cried.
    “Piece of cake,” she murmured,