Crew was grateful it was summertime, always crunch time in the construction industry. He was insanely busy with homes in different stages of completion, his side hobby of making concrete sinks, and helping Ryker with their ranch. Even running from thing to thing, he couldn’t stop thinking of Harley and wishing he knew how to break through to her. The week flew by and he was lucky to catch glimpses of her when he was helping out at the Redlands’.

Saturday afternoon he should’ve been driving up to Teton to check on some property he wanted to acquire to subdivide into custom home lots, but he found himself headed to the ranch instead. Would he catch her before she left? He wished he could follow her and make sure her date behaved himself, but he didn’t know if he could handle the torture of watching her with another man, especially the stupid proper Englishman she thought she wanted.

He pulled into the circle drive just as the garage door cranked open. Harley backed out in her mom’s white Cherokee. Crew jumped down from his truck and hurried toward the car. He worried she was just going to drive off, but she stopped and rolled down her window.

“Don’t you look pretty,” she said, her eyes roving over his dusky blue Henley shirt and jeans. He knew the shirt made his eyes look bluer and showed off his shoulders. He was glad she’d noticed. “Got a date with some cowgirl?”

“No, ma’am.” At least she was back to teasing him after the fight they’d had Tuesday.

But why did she think he was some player? True, he’d dated his fair share of girls in high school, but he’d been too busy building a business, getting his drafting degree, and working his tail off the past six years to date much, and he’d never been a “man-whore” like she’d accused him of.

“You’re the one who looks pretty,” he said. The white and pink floral sundress showed off her beautiful light brown skin. A silver pendant hung down into the V-neck of the dress, and his mouth went dry. Why hadn’t he been brave enough to ask her out and show her what a real date was? He imagined taking her to a fancy dinner in that dress and then out dancing. Holding Harley close while she smiled up at him and they swayed to a slow country song.

“Thank you, kindly sir.” She gave him a smile that had him hoping, but then she lifted a hand in farewell. “I’d better run. Good to see you, Crew.”

“Harley.” He stepped closer and put his hand on the window frame. Luckily the Cherokee was tall enough he didn’t have to lean down too much.

“Yes?” She blinked at him, and those lovely dark eyelashes of hers fanned her cheeks. He thought of how fun it had been to hold her in his arms when he dipped her hair in the river.

Crew’s mouth opened and he wanted to tell her to back out of this date and go with him instead, but she wanted an Englishman, not a cowboy. His courage failed him and he finally managed to say, “Be careful.”

Her eyes sparked and he was sure he was in for a tongue-lashing, but then she simply nodded and said, “I will. See you at church tomorrow.”

Crew inclined his chin in acknowledgment and stepped back. She backed into the circle drive next to his truck. Stopping for a brief second, she met his gaze again. Crew simply stared at her. She was leaving and there was no way for him to stop her.

She dropped the vehicle into gear and drove away. He watched her go until the Cherokee and all his hopes and dreams seemed to disappear into the sunset. Pushing out a slow breath, he walked up the porch steps to go check on Clint. Crew would be fine, and so would Harley. If only his heart agreed with him.

* * *

Harley couldn’t see clearly as she pulled out of the ranch yard. Why did Crew have to show up right then of all times? Jerk. She blinked but couldn’t clear the image of him in that nice-fitting Henley. Ooh, working on a ranch had been very, very good to him. But his perfect muscles weren’t what got to her. When he stopped her, she was certain he’d try to convince her not to go out with James. But no. He was just worried about her being careful. Ugh.

Her phone rang and she pushed the button on the steering wheel, glad the car recognized her phone. “Hello.”

“Harley, it’s Sierra!”

“Oh my goodness. I’ve missed you! What are you up to?”

“Well, girl, I have some exciting news. I think Parker is going to propose soon.” She squealed, and Harley couldn’t have been happier. Sierra was one of her girls’ camp friends and she loved her like a sister. They’d made the Jane Austen Pact together and Harley was pretty certain Sierra would be one of the first of the group to keep it. Parker wasn’t an Englishman, but he sounded like a proper gentleman who would give Sierra the security she craved. Her dear friend had been through some hard things in life.

“Yeah, baby! Oh, you have to call me the second it happens.”

“Maybe give me a few seconds to kiss him first.” Sierra let out a dreamy sigh.

Harley laughed. “Okay, gotcha. Smooch that hot man, but then the very next day I get a phone call, do you understand me, friend?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sierra had the cutest Southern accent. “What about you? Any hot men to report on?”

Harley’s mind swung to Crew. He was beyond hot, but not anything close to what a debonair man from the pact should be. “Um … I have a date with an Englishman tonight.”

“Ooh, do tell.”

“Yeah, he’s great. I met him on the plane.” The scenery along Highway 89 was gorgeous—mountain peaks, the river, pine trees. Why could Harley only see Crew?

“The plane? Where are you?”

“Wyoming. I went home.” She cleared her throat and swallowed hard. Should she share about her dad? She almost got it out, but Sierra was quicker.

“What’s an Englishman doing in Wyoming?”

“He’s an artist. His work is in several studios in Jackson Hole.” She sighed with relief. Sierra would be compassionate and sweet about her dad, but Harley didn’t mind not talking about it. Talking about it would make it real.

“Ooh, impressive. And where in England is he from?”

“You won’t believe this, Sierra. He’s from Cambridge—and I haven’t had a chance to tell you I got accepted there for my master’s program!” She was the one squealing now. “I’ll be in England for an entire year!”

“Oh my goodness! I’m so happy for you right now.”

Harley navigated the gentle corners of the road and smiled. “Well, I’m happier for you. Tell me more about this dream guy who’s going to propose. I don’t even know his last name!”

Sierra talked her through the drive. It didn’t take much encouragement to get her to talk about Parker.

Harley pulled into the Four Seasons parking lot and shut off the motor. “I’d better go, sweet friend. I’m here.”

“Have the best time, and I want details!”

“You need to spill the details first.” She laughed. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Hugs!” Sierra hung up.

Harley took a deep breath and walked through the parking lot to the front of the hotel. The doorman greeted her and swung the door wide. As she approached the restaurant, uncertainty hit her. What did she even know about this guy? She’d known Crew her entire life. What was she thinking, meeting up with someone she hardly knew? She shook her head. There was no danger going to dinner, being a little adventurous. Crew was just putting doubts in her head.

She gave the maître d’ her name. “Your companion is already here,” he told her. He gestured, and she followed him through the restaurant to a side table.

The restaurant was typical Jackson Hole with wood everywhere, on the ceiling and the walls, huge wooden beams framing the windows. The evening sun shone through the massive windows, and Harley noticed couples sitting on the patio. It was a perfect night for it and she almost asked if there were any tables open, but they reached James and he stood, beaming at her.

“Aren’t you absolutely stunning?” he asked.

Harley wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. “Thank you. You look very nice, as well.” And he did, wearing a starched white shirt, a navy-blue suit coat, and a thin, dark tie. She tried to remember if she’d ever seen Crew in a suit and tie. That would be a vision. Didn’t he just wear a shirt and tie with black Levis to church? Even that looked fabulous, though. Stop it, Harley.

James got her chair and sat next to her. “I took the liberty of ordering appetizers and the .”

“Oh, I don’t drink,” she said quickly. “Water will be fine for me.”

“You don’t drink?” He smirked at her. “Not sure how you’re going to survive a master’s at Cambridge without alcohol.”

“Luckily for me, I’m near brilliant and don’t need alcohol to turn to.” She returned his smirk. “Did you graduate from there?”

“I did. Undergrad in the arts, but a master’s in business. I wanted to know how to not just paint well but succeed at selling my work also.”

Harley nodded, impressed. “I’d love to see your work sometime.”

“It would love to be seen by you.”

“I love to design and create also.”

“What is it you create?”

Harley wrapped her hand around the cool water glass, rubbing at the condensation. She considered telling him about the house plans she liked to draw for therapy, but that was a personal thing and wouldn’t ever be her career. “Jewelry.”

He arched an eyebrow and looked down at his plate, took a sip of water, and then offered her an oyster. He never said one word about her jewelry business. Was that somehow beneath him and his artistic genius? Her neck felt hot as she self-consciously touched her necklace. Her jewelry was gorgeous, sold for top dollar, and she felt like it was an art form. She thanked him and tried the oyster, liking the apple cider and lemon flavoring but struggling with the texture.

James took a sip of his wine, his eyes traveling over her face and down across her shoulders and chest, lingering on her neck. “You’re extremely lovely, Harley.”

She smiled, but it was stiff. His compliment felt as slimy as the oyster she’d just eaten. “And surprisingly enough, I have a brain in my head too.”

“I’m sure you do.” His smile was placating now. “What is your field of expertise again?”

“Business.”

Dinner passed pleasantly enough as she plied him with questions about the school and town of Cambridge, but when he walked her out to her car an hour and a half later, Harley wasn’t sure if she wanted a repeat. The only things to commend James on were his success, his accent, and his knowledge of Cambridge. Her first date with a true Englishman hadn’t turned out anywhere close to what she’d dreamed of. Surely they weren’t all so condescending.

“What prompted you not to use the valet service?” he asked as they walked through the parking lot.

She shrugged. “Walking never hurts.”

He actually stepped back and glanced down at her legs. “Definitely didn’t hurt those beautiful legs.”

“James … look.” Harley stopped next to the Cherokee. “I appreciate dinner, but I don’t appreciate being blatantly checked out.”

His eyebrows shot up and he lifted his hands. “My apologies. I only meant to compliment.”

Harley blew out a breath. She was being too sensitive, and all she could think about was how Crew’s compliments warmed her to the core. Why did James’s compliments make her feel cold and small?

“I had a smashing time,” he said.

“Thank you for dinner.” She clicked the unlock button and slid into the Cherokee.

Unfortunately, James grabbed the door before she could close it. “Next Saturday? Blue Lion?”

“Um, let me see how my week goes. I don’t think I told you, but my dad has cancer and I want to spend a lot of time with him.”

He nodded cordially. “That’s understandable.”

She tugged on the door and he let it go. She hurried to start the car and pull away, ready to be done with this night. Please let there be more interesting and less pompous Englishmen in Cambridge.

Then she chastised herself. Elizabeth had assumed Mr. Darcy was a pompous jerk until she truly got to know him. Should she give James another chance? Hmm. Jane Austen always had a lot of wisdom. Another dinner wouldn’t kill her, and she had enjoyed learning more about Cambridge. She sighed and pushed the gas pedal down, anxious to be home.