PART 1: The Most Expensive Kiss in Wyoming

The richest cowboy in Willow Creek was selling kisses for five cents apiece—and his fiancée was standing in line to buy one.

By noon, twenty-three women had already kissed Nathaniel Brooks on the cheek.

By twelve-thirty, the entire town knew about it.

And by one o’clock, the woman he was supposed to marry was walking toward the kissing booth with a smile that frightened him more than a loaded shotgun.

“Oh, Lord,” Nathaniel whispered. “I’m a dead man.”

His best friend, Charlie Dawson, nearly fell off his chair laughing.

“Worse, Nate. You’re an engaged man caught selling what your bride thought belonged to her.”

Nathaniel Brooks was twenty-nine, handsome, stubborn, and the owner of the largest cattle ranch in northern Wyoming. He had three thousand acres, two hundred horses, and enough money to buy half of Willow Creek.

Unfortunately, none of those things had prepared him for Eleanor Whitcomb.

Eleanor was twenty-six, beautiful in a way that made men forget what they were saying, and possessed a temper that could send a grown cowboy running for the hills.

They had been engaged for six months.

And Nathaniel loved her more than anything in the world.

Which was precisely why he had never intended to spend Saturday afternoon kissing other women.

It had started with Mrs. Abigail Turner, the seventy-year-old president of the Willow Creek Ladies’ Charitable Society.

“Nathaniel, dear,” she had said that morning, “our schoolhouse roof leaks, and we need money to repair it.”

“I’ll write you a check.”

“We don’t want a check.”

“Then what do you want?”

Mrs. Turner smiled.

“Your face.”

Twenty minutes later, Nathaniel found himself seated beneath a ridiculous pink banner that read KISSES FOR A NICKEL.

He had agreed to cheek kisses only.

Absolutely no exceptions.

And for the first hour, everything went surprisingly well.

Old Mrs. Jenkins paid a nickel and pinched his cheek.

The blacksmith’s wife paid ten cents and demanded two kisses because, as she explained, her husband had forgotten their anniversary.

Even the mayor’s elderly mother arrived with a quarter and announced that she intended to get her money’s worth.

Nathaniel survived it all with dignity.

Until Eleanor arrived.

She had been visiting her aunt in Cheyenne and returned earlier than expected.

Still wearing her pale blue traveling dress, she stopped at the edge of the fairground when she saw a group of women surrounding her fiancé.

One woman giggled.

Another adjusted her bonnet.

And a pretty blonde leaned forward to kiss Nathaniel on the cheek.

Eleanor stood perfectly still.

Charlie saw her first.

“Nate,” he whispered. “Don’t turn around.”

Nathaniel turned around.

His stomach dropped.

Eleanor smiled.

It was the sweetest smile he had ever seen.

That made it considerably worse.

“Well,” she said pleasantly, “isn’t this interesting?”

“Ellie, sweetheart, I can explain.”

“Oh, there’s no need.”

She looked at the sign.

“Five cents? My goodness, Nathaniel. I had no idea you were so affordable.”

The surrounding women burst into laughter.

Nathaniel’s ears turned red.

“It’s for charity.”

“Of course it is.”

“The schoolhouse needs repairs.”

“Naturally.”

“And these are only kisses on the cheek.”

Eleanor tilted her head.

“Then I suppose I should get in line.”

Nathaniel blinked.

“What?”

“I said I’ll get in line.”

She stepped behind six other women and folded her hands in front of her.

Charlie began laughing so hard that he had to hold the table.

“I wouldn’t miss this for a hundred dollars.”

For the next ten minutes, Nathaniel suffered through the longest afternoon of his life.

Every time another woman leaned forward, Eleanor watched with an expression of exaggerated politeness.

When Mrs. Patterson kissed his cheek, Eleanor applauded.

When a young widow blushed and giggled, Eleanor smiled encouragingly.

When Charlie suggested raising the price to ten cents, Eleanor announced, “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. My fiancé is clearly a bargain.”

By the time she reached the front, half the town had gathered around the booth.

Nathaniel stood up.

“Ellie, please.”

“Sit down, Nathaniel.”

He sat.

Eleanor reached into her handbag.

Instead of a nickel, she withdrew a small leather pouch.

She placed it on the table.

It landed with a heavy metallic thud.

Charlie stopped laughing.

Mrs. Turner leaned closer.

Nathaniel stared at the pouch.

“What’s that?”

“My payment.”

Eleanor loosened the drawstring.

Gold coins spilled across the wooden table.

The crowd gasped.

Charlie picked up one coin, examined it, and nearly dropped it again.

“Eleanor… there’s more money here than this booth could earn in ten years.”

“Seven hundred and fifty dollars,” Eleanor said calmly.

Nathaniel looked up at her.

“Ellie, what on earth are you doing?”

She glanced toward the far edge of the fairground.

There, beside an old wagon, stood a thin woman in a faded brown dress, holding the hands of two little boys.

Her name was Martha Collins.

Her husband had passed away the previous winter, leaving her with two children, a few chickens, and a farmhouse that had nearly collapsed during the spring storms.

For three months, Martha had been sleeping in a leaking barn.

Everyone in town knew.

Almost everyone had expressed sympathy.

But no one had done much more.

Eleanor turned back to Nathaniel.

“I want you to build Martha Collins a proper home.”

The laughter disappeared.

“With a strong roof,” she continued. “A fireplace that works. Two bedrooms for her boys. And a kitchen where she can cook without rain falling into the soup.”

Nathaniel looked from Eleanor to Martha, then back again.

“You brought all this money for her?”

“I sold the pearl necklace my grandmother left me.”

His expression changed.

He knew that necklace.

It was Eleanor’s most treasured possession.

“Ellie…”

“It sat in a velvet box while two little boys slept beneath a broken roof.”

Her voice softened.

“I decided the pearls could do something more useful.”

Nathaniel was silent.

The richest man in Willow Creek suddenly felt very small.

He had spent years buying land, horses, and expensive things he barely used.

Yet the woman he loved had sacrificed something irreplaceable to help a neighbor he had barely noticed.

Slowly, he stood.

“Keep your money, Eleanor.”

Her smile faded.

“Nathaniel, this isn’t a joke.”

“I know.”

He took her hand.

“I’ll build Martha that house myself. And I’ll pay for every board, every nail, and every piece of furniture.”

A murmur spread through the crowd.

“And the seven hundred and fifty dollars?” Eleanor asked.

Nathaniel looked toward Mrs. Turner.

“That goes to the schoolhouse. Every cent.”

Mrs. Turner burst into tears.

Charlie removed his hat.

And Martha Collins covered her mouth with both hands.

For the first time that afternoon, Eleanor looked genuinely surprised.

“Nathaniel…”

He smiled.

“Now, ma’am, I believe you paid for a kiss.”

The crowd began cheering.

Eleanor laughed, leaned forward, and kissed him.

Not on the cheek.

On the lips.

Charlie whistled.

Someone shouted, “That’s worth more than a nickel!”

Nathaniel wrapped an arm around Eleanor’s waist.

“I suppose we’re even now.”

But Eleanor’s smile slowly disappeared.

“Not quite.”

She reached into her handbag again.

This time, she withdrew a folded letter.

“There’s something else you need to know about Martha’s farmhouse.”

Nathaniel frowned.

“What about it?”

Eleanor opened the letter.

“The land beneath it was sold last Thursday.”

“Sold? To whom?”

She looked directly into his eyes.

“To Brooks Cattle Company.”

Nathaniel went completely still.

That was his company.

And according to the letter Eleanor held in her trembling hand, someone had already ordered Martha Collins and her two children to leave their property by Monday morning.

But Nathaniel had never authorized the purchase—and the signature on the eviction notice was his own.