Life was messy, she thought. Which was why she liked reading—and writing—romance novels. There were very few happy endings in life. There were, in her books. She felt that a romance should be uplifting, especially at the end. Even though there were some powerful dramatic moments in between the kisses. She wondered what that wild-eyed cowboy would think if he knew how she researched her novels. It made her laugh.

BART WAS CURIOUS about the taut expression on his usually carefree cousin’s face when he came back from delivering the apples to Mina.

“You look glum,” he observed.

“She reads romance novels and she knows less about men than I know about theoretical physics,” he murmured.

Bart’s eyes widened. “Please tell me you’re not trying to add my best friend to your list of permissible bedmates.”

“Not a chance,” he said curtly. “Virgins are right off my wanted list.”

Bart let out the breath he’d been holding. “Sorry,” he said, when Cort glared at him. “But I’m sort of protective about her.”

“Are you in love with her?” Cort shot back.

Bart’s eyebrows arched. “With Mina?” he asked, aghast.

Cort scowled. “Why the shocked expression?”

Bart laughed. “She and I have known each other for years. If we were going to get romantic, it would have happened a long time ago.”

“I guess so.”

Bart was puzzled by his cousin’s attitude about Mina. How did Cort know she was innocent? He studied the other man covertly, noting his swollen lips, and came to an interesting conclusion.

“Did she mention how her date with Jake McGuire went?” Bart fished.

Cort glared at him. “He wants her.”

“That was blunt.”

“Well, he does. But not like I want women,” he added quietly. He sighed. “I think he’s in love with her. She says she doesn’t feel like that about him.”

Cort didn’t comment on his own curiosity about her motives for seeing the wealthy rancher. He wasn’t convinced that she wasn’t resisting McGuire to keep him interested. He was rich and she wasn’t. He couldn’t get past that. She might be innocent. In fact, he was convinced that she was. Would she barter that innocence to McGuire to land him as a husband and acquire the wealth she lacked? The thought unsettled him.

“Love begins slowly and grows,” Bart said, recalling his own broken heart. “I know how that feels. I lost the only woman I ever loved to another man.”

Cort turned, surprised. “You never talk about it.”

“Hurts too much,” Bart replied with a sad smile. He cocked his head and studied the other man. “You don’t even know what love is,” he said gently. “You think it’s two compatible bodies in bed.”

Cort sighed. “Well, that’s all I know about it,” he confessed. “The type of women I attract aren’t homebodies. They’re models or actresses or debutantes.” He glanced at Bart. “I had sort of a feeling for a debutante once, but her father broke it up before it began. I don’t belong to the old money crowd, you see. They marry among themselves. No outsiders.”