Read A Valentine's Choice: A Montana Sky Series Holiday Novella (The Montana Sky Series) for Free Online Page A

for a while. At least I don’t need to worry about ye stealing a fresh shirtwaist and returning it to me crumpled and smelling of the stable.” She adjusted Bridget’s lace, pretending seriousness. “Ye will have to wash and iron yer own clothes more often now.”
    This time, Bridget wrinkled her nose at her sister. Aside from the heated discussions over immigrating to America, in the past they’d only argued about Bridget’s tendency to borrow Alana’s clothing. Well, aside from Alana’s frustration when the mess on Bridget’s side of their small bedroom spilled into her one area.
    With a playful smile, Alana tilted her head so both sisters could see themselves in the mirror.
    With the contrast of their two faces before her, Bridget could see the hollows in her sister’s cheeks and the shadows under her eyes. Guilt stabbed her. “Shall we wear our collars?” Their mother had crocheted them for the twins’ eighteen birthday. The sisters only wore them for church and other special occasions.
    Her sister nodded. “I think we should look our best for our hosts as well as meeting the handsome cowboys.” She walked over to the bed, reached into her satchel for the little roll of pink crocheted lace, and fastened the collar around her neck.
    Her words, uttered in a placid tone, shocked Bridget, for the statement was so unlike her demure sister.
    She secured her own collar, similar to Alana’s except hers was white and had points to make it different from the rounded edges of her sister’s. If she’s preening for the men, perhaps she’s over Timkin Walsh, Bridget thought with a surge of hope. “I thought both James Whitson and Patrick Gallagher seemed fine men.” She made her tone as matter-of-fact as her twin’s.
    “Horsemen, both. Ye have a lot in common.”
    “Most men out here are sure to own a horse, Alana,” Bridget pointed out, disappointed that her sister wasn’t interested for herself.
    “But they don’t all make their living with horses.”
    Bridget opened her mouth to retort, then pressed her lips together. Trying to push Alana into the arms of any man, much less a cowboy, would only result in her usually docile sister digging in her heels.
    But still…horsemen or not, perhaps one will captivate her enough to forget Timkin Walsh.
    “Mrs. Toffels says we’re to go to the parlor.” Bridget leaned over and pinched her sister’s cheeks. “There. Now ye have some color.”
    “Silly,” Alana chided. “Ye know it won’t last.” She followed Bridget out the door, down the stairs, and around a corner to the hall.
    Bridget walked into a parlor filled with several rose velvet chairs with high backs and a matching settee that held pillows embroidered with flowers. An enormous fireplace took up the far wall. A portrait of a blonde woman in a flowing pink gown hung above a mantle carved from dark wood. “A beautiful room,” she murmured.
    At first, she didn’t see James crouching in front of the hearth, feeding a log to the fire.
    He stood, and his eyes brightened. “Miss O’Donnell, you look…you look…” His ears reddened.
    “Clean,” Bridget teased, holding out her skirt.
    “I was searching for the best form of the word beautiful ,” he said with mock stiffness, the crook of his mouth and his dimples betraying he was teasing her in return.
    Alana entered and stepped to the side of the doorway.
    James swept her a small bow. “Miss O’Donnell, how lovely you look.” This time, there wasn’t a hint of discomfort in his manner.
    How come he’s so courtly with her? Bridget suppressed a spark of jealousy.
    Alana’s cheeks, still slightly flushed from the pinches, pinked becomingly, and her shy smile at James was the widest Bridget had seen in a long while.
    Alana and James would make a good match. He’s a kind man, and that’s what she needs in a husband. Bridget ignored how her stomach churned at the idea. To make her sister happy, she’d give up any interest in James