Chapter 1

Aiden

No one should underestimate the influence of a woman. If Aiden Peterson had realized this a few years ago, it would’ve saved him a lot of grief in his efforts to parent his six younger brothers.

Lost in his thoughts, Aiden leaned against the marble countertop in his kitchen while he waited for his dinner to finish cooking. It had been a week since he’d said goodbye at the airport to his baby brother, Grant, who had been deployed to Iraq. Watching Grant hug his girlfriend, Amy, the woman who’d turned him into a well-behaved man almost overnight, had reminded Aiden of a promise he’d made ten years ago at his parents’ graveside—one he intended to keep.

The timer went off, and Aiden pulled the pan of fish sticks and fries out of the oven. He grimaced when he accidentally dropped the hot pad onto the heating element. Instantly, a corner of fabric disappeared in a small flame. He grabbed a spatula, scooped the burning hot pad onto the floor, and deftly pounded out the flames.

It didn’t bode well that thoughts of dating had distracted him to the point of nearly burning down his house. While he loved living in a bachelor pad with his brothers, a guy could only live off frozen food for so many years before he cracked. If getting married could change this, dating might be worth it. With a sigh of disgust, he rinsed the charred hot pad under water. He wrung it out before he opened the drawer next to the oven and threw the hot pad in.

“I saw that,” Benson drawled from his seat in the family room just off the kitchen.

Aiden glanced at his brother, who was just thirteen months younger than him. He wished Benson didn’t have an inch on him in height and a broader chest. It had been so much easier to tell his brothers to mind their own business when they were smaller.

“When are you going to learn how to cook?” Benson asked him.

“No need when I have you around,” Aiden said. Benson was the only one of the Peterson brothers who knew how to cook, and his meals consisted of potatoes and more potatoes.

“What if I get married and leave?”

Aiden’s brow rose. It was ironic how casually Benson had brought up marriage, the topic that kept ringing in his own mind. “You have to learn how to talk to girls before you can get married.”

Benson had a lot going for him, but he was reserved and antisocial. He needed a woman to pull him out of his shell. In fact, all his brothers could benefit from the influence of a woman—a person who could bring light back into their lives, like Amy had done for Grant.

Benson picked at his teeth with a toothpick. “There isn’t a need to talk to girls. They talk enough for everyone.”

Benson’s hang-up about dating was part of the Peterson plague. They’d had to be independent and emotionally guarded for so long, but it didn’t have to be like that anymore. Once Aiden married, the pattern would cycle right down the alphabet. Next would be Benson, then the twins, Cade and Daegan, then Easton, Flynn, and Grant. In fact, Aiden didn’t see why he couldn’t get the older five married before Grant’s deployment ended in a year’s time.

No one else was home, so this was Aiden’s opening to confess his thoughts and gauge Benson’s reaction.

“We can work on the talking-to-girls thing. I want you to start dating.” He had Benson’s full attention now. Aiden juggled a hot fish stick back and forth between his hands before setting it back down in the pan with resolve. “Seeing Grant and Amy together got me thinking about Mom and Dad.”

“Why? Because their names put together are Mom’s favorite song artist?”

Aiden ignored the joke. “Because after the crash, I vowed I’d get us all married and settled down. More than anything, Mom and Dad wanted us to find happiness with our own families. It’s been ten years. It’s time.”

Benson shook his head. “It’s not us you should worry about. You’re almost thirty, and in Cherish, Montana, that’s a decrepit age for marrying.”

Benson was right about the culture here, but Aiden’s vow had nothing to do with meeting society’s norms. Aiden had spent most of his life worrying about his family instead of himself, and his goal for marriage didn’t detract from that.

“The farm is finally in order, and my software is doing well in the test markets,” he said. “We can all move forward now.”

Benson laughed and didn’t stop when Aiden glared at him. “I’m sorry,” Benson said through his laughter. “I can’t imagine you married to anyone but your computer.”

Aiden ran a greasy hand through his short brown hair before pulling it back in revulsion. He saw Benson eyeing him from the other side of the room but bit back a retort.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Benson chucked his toothpick toward the garbage and didn’t get up when he missed.

Aiden searched for somewhere to wipe off his hands. When he saw nothing remotely clean in sight, he pulled out the charred hot pad. “It’s the next step, Benson. Just wait. I’ll be married by Christmas.” Christmas was exactly three days before his birthday—an arbitrary deadline, but he liked to be efficient.

“You’re hilarious. You realize it’s almost September. You haven’t been on a date in over a year. Do you honestly think you can find someone to marry you in three months?”

“Sooner, if possible,” Aiden said. “I always thought it was wise to marry before thirty, when you’re too set in your ways.” He didn’t really believe that, but it was all about planting the right seeds of motivation.

Benson rolled his eyes.

This conversation could count for their biannual heart-to-heart, so Aiden attempted to remain patient. “I can’t parent you all forever. Just follow my lead.”

“That easy, huh?” Benson leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees. “And how exactly will you find this woman?”

“An app could find me one in less than a minute.” Aiden’s game plan was nonexistent, but online dating might be the easiest way to go. “Besides, it doesn’t take brains to find a pretty woman who can cook better than you.”

“Sounds like love is a high priority.”

“Love?” Aiden paused long enough to pop a hot fry into his mouth. The word burned worse than the fry. “I’m eating frozen food seven days a week. My expectations are entirely practical.”