The Rancher Kept Finding Excuses to See Her — Then the Banker’s Daughter Walked In

The bell over the door rang as James Mercer stepped into Gideon's General Store. By the time he reached the counter, his arms were loaded with far more than a single man living alone could ever need. Coffee, a box of nails, a tin of lamp oil, soap, a sack of flour he didn't need until next month at least. He set

it all down on the counter, one item at a time, watching Lucy Bennett the whole while. She was mid-conversation with another customer, laughing at something the older woman had said. And without so much as glancing down, Lucy began adding up James's purchases in her head. By the time she turned to him, she

already had the total. That'll be a dollar sixty, mister. Mercer. James raised an eyebrow. I don't believe I've ever seen you have to count twice. That's only because nobody keeps adding things to the counter once I've started, Lucy said, a small smile tugging at her mouth. It was nothing. A few words. But something passed between them

anyway, small and warm, and neither of them willing to name it. Truth was, James hadn't needed half of what sat on that counter. He'd simply needed a reason to be standing in front of it. You walk into town today? He asked, though he already knew the answer. Same as always. Ranch still needs someone to help with

the books, keep the household running right. Pays better than what you're making here. He said it easy, like it was nothing, though he'd offered it three times now and been turned down three times. That's kind of you, Mr. Mercer, but I'll have to say no again. The Mercer place sat clean across town

from the Bennett farm. Walking there and back every day would eat up more daylight than Lucy had to spare. James wanted to say something else. He didn't know what. The bell rang again. Caroline Whitford stepped through the door just in time to see the two of them smiling at each other over the counter.