Idea #3

Monday stands for Short and Sweet, doesn't it? :) Today I learned the diagnosis for my twelve-year-old is to have his gallbladder removed. If anyone has had a child with this issue, I'd love mail. In the meantime, Idea #3.

Miss Manhattan And The Cowboy

Chapter One

"I like the part about communicating by pistol-fire," Kane Red Hawk said. "No woman can live without a telephone."

"Or a cell phone in her purse," Eli Red Hawk agreed.

The four brothers stared at the two lonely graves in Hell's Caverns, Texas, a stretch of dry western land tourists never had any desire to see.

"They had it all," Ethan, the eldest, said. "Our parents knew the value of marriage."

His twin, Finn, nodded. "Even if we disguise ourselves as remote hermits without a penny to our names, we may never find a woman who looks at the man and not the money."

Eli shook his head. "Love like theirs may have been a miracle."

The youngest Red Hawk, Kane, squinted at the sky. "It might be best if we ignore the money. We didn't know they had it. So we grew up independent. Maybe we just focus on finding that one true love."

"Spoken like the Harvard grad he is." Ethan pulled the letter written by their mother from his pocket. "Like a great Indian chief of Louisiana my grandfather knew," Ethan read aloud, "we thought to make you find your own ways in the world by sending you off in opposite directions. So we sent you to different colleges, believing you'd find your path best without each other to lean on. We found instead that you found middle ground to meet whenever possible. Your father and I were proud of your connection to each other. Now we hope that connection will stay strong for Hell's Caverns. We hope you find women who can live here with you, and become part of your world."

"That's it," Eli said. "So simple. So many miles from anywhere." He sighed. "So, back to communicating by pistol-fire."

Kane nodded. "I vote we take our problem straight to the women. We go on Oprah, and let a woman choose us knowing right up front that we don't have anything except dust and bobcats." He glanced around the canyon, heavy with red clay. "Let's be sure to mention that the perfect woman needs to like to dust."
* * *
Holly Dewhurst stared at the four mouth-watering men awkwardly sitting in chairs on Oprah's stage. "Those are not real men," she murmured to her friend, Marni Marigold. "Those are specimens known only to GQ."

Marni shrugged. "They're either actors, gay, or handsome nut cases. Reality bites. We've all learned that. Not one reality show couple has worked out, has it?"

Holly shook her head. "I don't know. But I do think the odds of them finding four true loves is a bit insane." She brushed her new Oscar skirt and pointed to her three-inch high powder blue-and-midnight black heels. "I don't think I'm cowboy wife material."

Marni laughed. "Me, either. But it would be so much fun finding out."

One of the cowboys glanced her way, and Holly was caught by how dark his eyes were. She could actually feel him registering that she wore no pantyhose under her suit, could almost feel his gaze stroking her calves. "One more second with him staring at me like that, and my expression is going to give me away," Holly murmured.

"Is it going to say 'sweep me away to your hidden caverns'?"

Holly risked one more glance at the cowboy. He was watching her every move as she placed cosmetics into a bag. "I should go powder his face."

Marni laughed. "You might need to do that for anyone but those men. They would freak if you went near them with a powderbrush."

"Probably try to kill it." Holly finished packing up. "The thing is, I understand what they're looking for. They just don't know it doesn't exist."

"Excuse me," a deep voice said.

Holly turned, seeming to sink into the cowboy's gaze. Her mouth wouldn't move and her face felt unnaturally frozen.

"Excuse her," Marni said smoothly. "She's very tired and isn't herself." She gave Holly a slight shove. "This is Holly Dewhurst. And you're the eldest Red Hawk, aren't you? Fraternal twin-style."

Ethan nodded, his gaze only briefly moving from Holly. "Hello, Miss Marni. Thank you for providing the introduction."

Holly noticed Marni's mouth snapped shut, and her manners deserted her, too. Ethan took Holly's hand, shaking it for a second, and she had the sudden instinct that he'd read her whole soul in that moment. Back off, charmer, she thought to herself. You think you're too hot for the average female. I may not be average, but I'm in no mood to get out the potholders. "How can I help you, Mr. Red Hawk?" she asked, her tone professional.

His gaze touched her short, sassy blonde hair with approval. "I wonder," he said huskily, "how you feel about dust, bobcats, and cacti."

Was he propositioning her? The men were here, after all, to find women. But she was not a candidate, for three good reasons he'd never know. "I feel that dust is dirty, bobcats scary, and cacti prickly. That is my full range of knowledge on those subjects."

He nodded.

"Can I get you a glass of water?" Holly asked. "We have all kinds of things for our guests' comfort."

The three of them stood in silence.

Marni straightened, finding her voice. "Holly, why don't you ask Mr. Red Hawk a question now? In the interest of conversation." She beamed at Ethan. "It's good to get to know people from different parts of the country."

"I asked him if he wanted something to drink," Holly said, becoming cross under his hot stare. She felt like he was measuring every word she said. "All right. How do you feel about . . . shiny windows on skyscrapers, tiny white kittens, and apartment plants like forced tulips?"

He grinned. "I feel just fine about them. Although if you have a white kitten, you'll want to keep a close eye on her in the Caverns. Lots of hawks, buzzards, reptiles, etc."

Holly narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean, keep a close eye on her in the Caverns?"

Ethan sat down in her makeup artists' chair, crossing his boots at the ankles and adjusting his hat so she could see all of his smile and too-handsome face. "When you come to Hell's Caverns," he said. "Because I think you want to embrace your exploratory side."

Marni giggled, but Holly frowned. "I think you're mistaken. I don't even own a pair of boots. A hat. A desire to live up to my eyeballs in rattlesnakes and bugs the size of birds. I don't want a tumbleweed for a pet."

He laughed, and her whole body warmed, specifically the area inside her expensive lace thong. "I won't repeat my offer," he said. He flipped a hand toward the audience. "As you can see, there are plenty of women who will take us up on our offer of a week-long free stay with us. Good men are hard to find, you know."

Holly stiffened. "I appreciate your offer, Mr. Red Hawk—I think. But I'll have to pass." Picking up her bags, she glanced at Marni. "Are you coming? Split a taxi with you."

But Marni was staring at Ethan, her gaze mesmerized by the cowboy whose attention seemed to be all on her petite dark-haired friend.

"I think I'll stay awhile," Marni said. "Men like these only come along once in a great while." "You said he was probably an actor, gay, or delusional," Holly protested.

Ethan laughed out loud, his voice causing a rippling of excitement through the mostly-female audience.

Marni nodded. "I'm okay for the moment."

Holly glanced at Ethan in disbelief. "Marni, did you see their grocery list of requirements for their dream woman? It says you need to love to dust. You'll communicate by shotguns."

"Pistols," Ethan corrected.

"Whatever," Holly said, her gaze snapping to Marni. "Doesn't the card-carrying feminist in you protest this whole set-up?"

"I don't think so," Marni said. "I'm young. I'm impressionable. My mind should be open to new experiences."

Ethan grinned, tipping his hat.

"Okay," Holly said, thinking no man, no matter how handsome, had a right to be that smug. "You're on your own. Goodbye. I'm riding off into the Manhattan sunset in my trusty yellow steed called a taxi. Goodbye, Mr. Hawk."

He waved a casual hand. Holly wheeled on her expensive heels, making sure her fanny swayed a goodbye so noticeable that the crazy, too-cocky cowboy would know he was watching the best butt in Manhattan walk away from him. How dare he come on to her and then transfer his attention to Marni, as if attraction was easy-come-easy-go?