Santa Fe Fortune & How to Marry a Matador

Tyler.
    “How old is this guy?” Christine asked, betting he was several years younger.
    Ellen furiously fanned her face with some desk papers. “Of age,” she said slyly. Suddenly, her face lit up. “Say! Maybe you’ll meet someone in New England?”
    Christine stood, gathering her things. “You’re forgetting one very important fact. I’m not looking.”
    “Pays to keep your eyes open,” Ellen said with a smile.

Chapter Two

    “Mommy! Look out!” Tyler yelped from the backseat. Christine gripped the steering wheel of the huge SUV, wrenching them off to the side of the road and out of the path of the oncoming pickup. Her heart beat furiously as she brought the car to a halt and cursed the driving snow. This wasn’t some idyllic New England snowfall; they were caught up in a blizzard, one as blinding as they come.
    “Tyler, baby,” she asked, reaching back and laying a hand on his leg. “Are you all right?”
    She caught his big-eyed gaze in the rearview mirror. “That was cool! Can we do it again?”
    “No,” Christine answered, breathing heavily. “We most certainly can’t do it again.”
    Just then something knocked at her driver’s side window. Christine glanced quickly at Tyler, then cautiously lowered the glass.
    A handsome man with a rugged face and stunning blue eyes peered into her vehicle.
    “Everyone okay in there?” He wore a deep blue parka, jeans, and sturdy boots. A large golden retriever bounded up behind him, leaping against the side of the SUV and perching its paws on Christine’s windowsill.
    “Doggie!” Tyler cried happily.
    “Well hey there, little fellow,” the man said kindly before sternly commanding his dog. “Mason, get back in the truck.”
    The dog immediately obeyed, springing inside the truck that sat across the road with its driver’s door ajar. The man turned his gaze on Christine and she unexpectedly felt her heart skip a beat. She judged him to be in his thirties, maybe five or six years older than she was.
    “Yes, yes. We’re fine.”
    “Good to hear,” the man said. “You nearly ran me off the road back there.”
    “I nearly—?”
    He shared a warming smile. “It’s not that I mind. It’s how it all comes out in the end that matters.”
    She stared at him dumbfounded, lost in his blue gaze. He probably thought she was some sort of inexperienced city slicker. And he was right. Christine didn’t even own a car in Chicago and it had been some time since she’d driven one. She’d never been in anything with four-wheel drive, particularly anything this big.
    “Where you folks headed?”
    Christine lifted a map from the front console and handed it to him. The GPS had gotten them so lost, she’d turned if off over an hour ago. “Are we even going the right way?”
    He studied the name of the village she’d circled, as the wind picked up around him. “Only if you want to take the long way there.”
    “Oh, no.”
    “You need to stay on this road for about five more miles then turn right at the fork. From there, you can follow the signs toward town. You got enough gas to help you along?”
    Christine nodded, feeling her tension ease. Things would be all right, wouldn’t they? It hadn’t even been snowing when she’d picked up the SUV. Surely they were caught up in a sudden burst of storm that would abate in a short while.
    The man stepped back and surveyed her vehicle with a shrill whistle.
    “Looks like that front tire’s wedged in pretty deep.”
    Her previous panic regained steam. “We’re stuck here, aren’t we?”
    “Not for long,” he said with a grin. “Lucky for you, I carry a chain in my truck.”

    Christine blinked hard, trying to gather her thoughts. She didn’t even know this guy, but still, when he looked at her, her silly heart went all a-flutter. Ellen was right. She’d been out of the scene so long she’d lost her ability to cope. She apparently couldn’t even make casual conversation with an attractive man without assessing his age and availability. Not that she was in the market, or anything like that. For all she knew, Mr. Good Samaritan and his trusty dog were taken. Though it was impossible to know about a wedding band, given the sensible gloves on his hands. Christine gasped when she realized that she’d been checking.
    “Just hold it nice and steady!” he called through the howling winds. “I’m going to pull up ahead of you. Then, once you get going, I’ll let the chain drop. Whatever you do,