Free The Princess of Coldwater Flats by Nancy Bush Page A

cutting the engine in front of a salmon-pink bungalow that was just too perky for words.
    A quick self-assessment preceded her walk to the front door. She wasn’t a bad catch; Gil had said so often enough. She looked good and she was intelligent, quick and compassionate. With the Triple R as bait…‌why, any red-blooded, half-alive male looking to improve himself would jump at the chance to marry her.
    Except she was stubborn, willful and a general pain in the tail end. Her father had been clear on that, as well.
    “Brent knows your good points and your bad,” she told herself, rapping lightly on the salmon-and-white front door. She half expected Disney characters to answer.
    Brent himself opened the door. “Sammy Jo!” he said with genuine pleasure.
    She instantly felt like a fraud. “Hi, Brent. You got a minute?”
    “For you, an hour. A week. The rest of my life.” He grinned.
    “Yeah. Right.” Sammy Jo was unusually tongue-tied and she didn’t know what to do with her hands. She glanced around at the tidy living/dining area. The carpet was white, the walls a light lemon yellow. “How come I feel like I walked into candyland?”
    He laughed and shook his head. Sammy Jo wasn’t certain he understood her point of view, or whether he was just being polite.
    “What’s up?” he asked her.
    Brent wore a green polo shirt and gray slacks. He was Coldwater Flats’s only realtor and he favored the casual look, which was just as well since his clientele favored jeans and work shirts.
    For some reason, his very appearance slapped Sammy Jo like a cold shower. She was nuts. Completely nuts. “No reason,” she choked out, moving away from him. “How much are you selling this for?”
    “You in the market for real estate?”
    “Only if I’m selling,” she said.
    “You’d really sell the Triple R?” His brown eyes brightened with surprise.
    “When I’m six feet under. Why? You think there’s a market for it?”
    “You bet. I’d buy it myself, if I could. It’s one fine piece of property as you well know, Sammy Jo.”
    “What if you could buy it? I mean, what would you do with it?”
    “Oh, I don’t know. Keep it like you do, I guess. Or at least try to,” he added humbly.
    Encouraged by his unspoken complement, Sammy Jo walked through the bungalow’s freshly painted white-tiled kitchen. “That’s nice.”
    He cocked his head. “Something on your mind?”
    Sammy Jo leaned against the counter, bracing herself in more ways than one. Count to ten, she thought. Then dive in . Silence grew as she made the mental count. Gathering her courage, she said, “I’ve got money problems that you would not believe.”
    “Try me.” He was serious.
    “I could lose the Triple R if I don’t fix things soon.”
    “You need a loan?”
    She’d thought of that, actually, but Brent lived in a tiny two-bedroom house with the sister he’d practically raised himself. The real estate business wasn’t that great in Coldwater Flats. If he loaned Sammy Jo enough money to pay off her debts, she was pretty sure she’d swallow up most of his nest egg.
    “No.” She smiled with regret. “That wouldn’t be fair.”
    “Don’t tell me you’re rethinking my marriage proposal,” he said lightly, with just a hint of desperation that made Sammy Jo realize how important her answer was.
    “Did you propose to me?” she asked.
    “About a thousand times.”
    “I mean, seriously propose,” Sammy Jo said, her heart beating in her throat.
    That gave him pause. His gaze swept over her tense face. “Yes,” he answered quietly.
    “Well, then, I’d be a fool not to rethink it. You’re the catch of the day.”
    Brent grinned widely.
    “But I just dropped by to say hello,” she added hastily, backing toward the door. This wasn’t working. What had ever possessed her to think it would?
    “Drop by again soon,” he said, with just the right amount of accent to let her know he’d been reading her mind. Her face coloring,