Matchmaking the Silver Fox: A Sweet, Small-Town Romance (The Sugar Plum Series)

1. Chapter One

With the sun climbing high in the sky, I’m out here fixing fences like they’re about to run away. My hands, rough and seasoned from years of work, wrap around the pliers with a familiarity that feels like home as the scents of fresh-cut grass and earthy soil fill my nostrils. It’s another day on the Carter Ranch, where the land stretches as far as dreams do.

“Hand me that wire there, will you, Asher?” His black hair is matted with sweat, and the way he squints into the sun when he reaches for the tool bucket reminds me of a newborn colt. Asher’s been my right-hand man for four years now. I’ve always considered him and his daughter a part of the family, but we made it official last year when he married my daughter, Gemma.

“Sure thing, Boss.” He tosses it over, and I catch it, giving a nod of thanks.

We work in comfortable silence, the kind you can only have with someone who’s seen you through thick and thin. The fence won’t fix itself, but with such a hard worker by my side, it almost feels like it could.

“Hey, Dad!”

I turn, and there’s Gemma, looking as fashionable as ever in a green checkered blouse that matches her eyes and a faded pair of blue jeans.

“Hey there, Peanut,” I say, wiping my hands on my jeans before she pulls me in for a side hug.

“Forgot something, Cowboy?” Asher looks up and chuckles at the brown paper sack she’s waving in the air.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She goes to hand him his lunch, and he wraps an arm around her waist, kissing her forehead just as her eyes wander to an open cooler by my feet. There’s no doubt in my mind that it’s filled with enough bologna and cheese sandwiches to feed an army, and I should know because I’m the one who made them.

“Really, Dad? You’ve been eating bologna and cheese sandwiches every day for lunch since we moved out of the guest house. Should I be worried?”

“Just trying to keep things simple.” I shrug, but I can tell she’s not buying it.

“Maybe too simple. You know how I feel about you being out here alone all the time.“ She picks up the cooler and walks it to a picnic table near the barn. When we’re out of Asher’s earshot, she gives me an earnest look. “Have you given any more thought to getting out there again? Trying to date?”

“Oh, Gemma...” My half-hearted protest is drowned out by the pounding in my chest. Ever since she came home and got hitched, she has this idea that I don’t know how to care for myself. And when Gemma gets an idea—

“Come on, Dad. It could be fun.” Her grin is infectious, but I’m not entirely caught yet. Dating is a world I haven’t walked in for more years than I care to count.

“Fun, huh?” I compare it to how much fun I’d have castrating one of my prize-winning bulls.

“Yeah, fun. You remember what that feels like, don’t you?“ She nudges my shoulder, and I laugh despite the dread that pools in my stomach any time she brings up the topic.

“Vaguely,” I admit, wondering if the fire I feel in my cheeks makes me look as pitiful as I feel. Camille might have passed away more than a decade ago, but that doesn’t change the way I feel. Second chances are better left for the silver screen.

“Just think about it, okay?” She lifts onto her toes and gives me a peck on the cheek. “For me?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll think about it.“ My voice is more gruff than usual, and I know full well that thinking is only the first step on the road to self-destruction that Gemma is trying to pave.

“Promise?” Her eyes sparkle with something that looks an awful lot like victory, but I’m still not giving up without a fight.

“Gemma, sweetheart… I know you mean well, but what if I’m not cut out for all of this dating hype?”

She cocks her head and gives a challenging look. “So what? You think I’m just going to sit around and watch you become a hermit? Grow a long beard? Maybe scare off the local kids every year at Halloween?”

I smile at the thought. “Well, now you’re making it sound like fun.”

“Seriously, Dad.” Gemma steps closer, and her tone shifts. “You haven’t been on a single date since… you know. Don’t you think it’s time?”

“Your mom was the only woman I ever dated. I wouldn’t know the first thing to say to a stranger.” A familiar ache settles into my chest as I think about the past.

“Which is exactly why you need to get back out there,“ she insists, hands on her hips like she’s ready to take on the impossible.

“Back out where, Gemma? This is Sugar Plum, not New York City. The dating pool around here is nothing more than a dried-up pond at best, and there’s no telling how much it’s changed since your mom was around. What if I’m too old for this?“ I say this hoping she’ll understand how uninterested I am in modern-day romance. Though, I do like the idea of growing out my beard. Then, maybe I could at least revisit my dream of playing guitar alongside ZZ Top.

“Too old?”Gemma throws her head back and laughs. “Dad, you’re 48, not 108! Plus, you’ve totally got that Sam Elliot vibe working in your favor. You could have women lined up around the block if you wanted. Think of yourself as a fine wine that only gets better with age.”

I twist the corner of my mustache, and a smile tugs at my lips. “I always liked to think of myself more as an aged whiskey. A little rough around the edges, but still smooth enough to get the job done.”

“Ew, Dad…Gross! TMI.”

“What? Doesn’t sound like something the ladies would line up around the block for?”

“Oh, they will. But you have to let me help you. You can’t come off too strong, or you’ll scare them off. And please don’t ever talk about getting the job done. So not an appropriate father-daughter convo.”

I chuckle again. “Okay, you have my word. Just tell me what you want me to do.” Her smile grows ear to ear, and I know she’s got a scheme brewing.

Her hands flutter like butterflies as she rummages through her oversized leather tote, and a bricolage of fabric swatches and sketchpads threatens to spill out when she pulls out her phone.

“Ah-ha! There it is. Now, for our first order of business, let’s talk about how we’re going to find you a lady.”

“Okay…” I laugh nervously, feeling uneasy about letting her talk me into any of this. “What do you suggest?”

“I think the best place to start would be online dating.” The words make me glad I haven’t eaten yet. Losing my lunch this early in the day would be a shame. “It’ll be fine. I promise. Olivia and Joshua met through an online dating app, and look how perfect they are for each other. Like it or not, this is the wave of the future.

“An app?“ I raise a skeptical brow. “You want me to put the fate of my dating life into the hands of something I have to download on my phone?” I’ll admit that I’m no stranger to their existence, but the thought of sorting through profiles on a device sounds as foreign as trying to milk a catfish.

“You said it yourself—the Sugar Plum dating pool only reaches so far. You’ll have to cast a wider net if you want to find a keeper. But before you start worrying too much, I’ll set up your account so you won’t have to lift a finger until you’re ready to start swiping.”

“I don’t know, Gemma. It sounds like trying to shop for love in a catalog.”

“Think of it as... browsing for potential adventures,” she says, typing away furiously on her screen.

The fact that this could be an absolute disaster hasn’t slipped my mind, but after seeing the hope in Gemma’s eyes, I feel like my fate might be sealed.

“Alright, your account is ready. Now I just have to make your profile.”

I shuffle uncomfortably, my boots kicking up dust in protest. “Now, hold on just a minute, Gemma. What exactly are you planning to put on this thing?”

“Only the truth,” she says as matter of factly. Her fingers fly over the screen. “Hard-working rancher, family man, lover of wide-open spaces and laughter.”

“Sounds cheesy,” I grumble.

“Trust me, Dad. The ladies are going to love it.” She pauses, giving me a mischievous glance. “Now we just need the perfect picture to reel them in.”

I raise an eyebrow, suddenly aware of the sweat staining my shirt and dust-covered jeans.

“Of course!” Gemma hops up from her perch on the picnic table and lets her eyes scan our surroundings. “We’ll need to find the best light. And maybe lose the hat. Show off those rugged Carter genes.”

I feel like a steer going to auction. I take off my hat and lay it on the picnic table.

“Oh, okay…. No.” She lets out a laugh the neighbors could hear from a mile away.

“What? Is it that bad?” I run a hand through my hair, which I’m convinced must be sticking up in every direction to make her laugh like that.

“No, the hair is fine. But you do need to put your hat back on. Unless you want to go inside and wash that line of dirt off your face.”

I grumble, pulling a bandana out of my pocket and sweeping it across my forehead before sliding my hat back on. “Okay, but let’s hurry up and get this over with.”

“Perfect!” She positions me in front of the barn. “Now, give me your best ‘I’m a fun guy’ look.”

I attempt a smile that feels more like a grimace. “I feel ridiculous.”

“Come on, Dad! Just imagine you’re back in high school trying to impress Mom.”

She snaps at least a dozen photos on her phone until I can’t stand still any longer. “We done yet?”

“That was the last one,” she says, shoving her phone in my face. “See? You’re a natural.”

I look stupid.

“Okay, last question: ‘What’s your idea of a perfect date?’” Gemma’s fingers hover over the keyboard, and I scratch my chin through my beard.

“Hmm... A perfect date. How about a sunset horseback ride followed by a picnic under the stars?”

“Classic Henry Carter.” She muses, still typing away like her life depends on it. “Add: romantic. And adventurous.”

“Sounds corny when you say it like that.”

“Trust me, Dad, it’s swoon-worthy.” She clicks her screen with finality. “And done! Congratulations. Your profile is set.”