HAVE WEDDING, NEED BRIDE!

Wedding planner Zoe Smart is getting a reputation for being a jinx. The worst part is, the rumors may be true. Zoe’s last two brides bailed on their grooms, so she really needs cowboy Carson Grant’s wedding to go off without a hitch, aside from the one in her heart every time they meet.

Though Carson knows he has to tell Zoe the wedding’s canceled, he doesn’t want to give the town’s wagging tongues more fodder. Besides, Carson is having way more fun planning a nonexistent wedding with Zoe than he ever did planning his real one. But time is running out to tell the truth. Will Carson’s ruse charm Zoe’s romantic spirit, or will their love be jinxed from the start?

“It’s simple, really. I just want a good guy.”

Carson raised an eyebrow at her. “The guy who would recognize what a great person you are, and support you in whatever path you take. The guy who would fight for you, would love you with all his heart and never leave you no matter what happened. The guy who can’t think straight when you’re around him, who can’t breathe when he spots you from across the room, who gives his all to you, no matter what the circumstance. You’re his end, his beginning and in the middle all he wants is to love you. That guy?”

Zoe had to come out of the lusty fog he’d put her in to answer him. She let out a sigh and said, “Yes. Him.”

Never had Zoe been so confused over her emotions for any man in her entire life. The fact that he’d just verbalized everything she had ever dreamed of in a partner had caught her completely off guard. It was as if he’d read her innermost thoughts and put them all out there just to see how she would react.

Dear Reader,

I’m so excited to introduce you to Carson Grant, town rodeo hero and big brother to four fiercely independent sisters. With all those women in his life, corralling his true love should be a cinch. But until his accident in the rodeo arena, marrying the wrong woman seemed like the right thing to do. That is, until she dumps him only weeks before exchanging vows. Now he can’t seem to bring himself to tell anyone, including his gorgeous wedding planner, Zoe Smart.

Briggs, Idaho, is once again awash in Christmas, and this time there’s more love in the air than snowflakes. The season has always been a magical time for me, so writing about it was as easy as opening gifts on Christmas morning. I absolutely loved creating a playlist of my all-time favorite Christmas tunes, hitting shuffle on my phone, closing my office door and immersing myself in another snowy Christmas in the Teton Valley.

I hope you enjoy reading about the residents of Briggs, Idaho, and that Carson and Zoe warm your heart this holiday season.

Until next time, you can visit me at maryleo.com, where you’ll find a few fun facts about Idaho’s Teton Valley along with some of my favorite Christmas cookie recipes. While there, please sign up for my newsletter to get info on my latest books, upcoming events and giveaways. You can also find me on Facebook and Twitter. Come on over so we can chat.

Till then, I wish you a heartfelt Merry Christmas and a prosperous New Year!

Best,

Mary

A Christmas Wedding for the Cowboy

Mary Leo

www.millsandboon.co.uk

USA TODAY bestselling author MARY LEO grew up in south Chicago in the tangle of a big Italian family. She’s worked in Hollywood, Las Vegas and in Silicon Valley. Currently she lives in San Diego with her husband, author Terry Watkins, and their sweet kitty, Sophie. Visit her website at maryleo.com.

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

For my son, Richard Pryde Hughes III, in anticipation of his wedding day.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

All at once the excitement of the rodeo came crashing in around Carson Grant, filling his senses with the familiar sights and sounds. The steady beat of loud, badass country music heightened his focus as he readied his bronc, Red Comet, for the ride. Every seat in the large arena was filled with enthusiastic fans who cheered, whistled and clapped as a decked-out Miss Rodeo, sitting high on a black stallion, raced from one end of the rodeo ring to the other holding up an American flag three times her size. She electrified the air and Carson thrived on the buzz. Even his horse, a deep-brown-colored mare, seemed to be fired up.

“Easy boy,” he said as he firmly patted Red Comet’s neck. The horse blew out air, took a step back and turned his head slightly to check out Carson. Once the animal seemed satisfied with what he saw, he bent a knee and faced forward again.

“You got yourself the luck of the draw tonight,” the cowboy attending Carson’s chute said as a wide grin spread across his weathered face. “He’s awful twitchy tonight. Might be wise to ask for anther bronc.”

“Meant to be,” Carson answered, knowing perfectly well that Red Comet was the best bronc in the bunch, the bronc that could give him the highest score. For the past two years, if Red Comet’s rider wasn’t bucked off during the mark out, he’d usually score in the high eighties or low nineties, and Carson intended to be one of them.

He took in a deep breath, savoring the combination of rich earth, manure, sweat and determination as he leaned over Red Comet, giving a tug on his bronc saddle to make sure it felt snug and secure. Adrenaline ripped through his veins as the usual rodeo-high took over his mind and body. It was almost as if he was one with the night, supercharged and eager to go.

The fans whistled, clapped and laughed at Barney the clown, wearing his monster-sized bright green Western hat, a matching shirt and checkered pants. The clown joked with the announcer as the other saddle bronc riders prepared themselves for the event. Carson knew he would have no problem outscoring the entire group. He was on track once again to make it into the top fifteen saddle bronc riders in the country. Once there, he’d qualify for the NFR Championship in Vegas. Getting the winning score tonight would give him a large enough purse to place him four or five holes from the top, and from there he would win it all. He was sure of it.

When Carson saw the third horse in front of him go, he zipped up his vest, tucked the flank strap flat under the saddle, marked his hack rein, checked that his stirrups broke half over the horse’s shoulders, secured his cream-colored hat on his head and climbed up the metal rails on the side of the chute.

“Ready to rock and roll,” he said to the cowboy over the chorus of cheers that went up for the bronc rider who’d scored an eight point six. The announcer yelled out the score as the jumbotron closed in on the last rider’s smiling face, and the supersized neon sign displayed his numbers in fluorescent yellow.

The cowboy helping Carson held fast to the bronc’s neck rope as Carson eased himself onto the saddle while holding on to the swell and slowly dropping his legs on either side of Red Comet, careful not to rile the horse. He slipped his right foot into a stirrup, making sure it hit his boot in the correct place, then leaning to one side he grabbed the hack rein and slid his left foot into the other stirrup.

Red Comet threw his head back, snorted and tried to move forward, hitting his nose on the metal bars. The cowboy held him as steady as he could, but Carson knew the horse was anxious to break out of his restraints.

“Easy there, buddy,” Carson said in a reassuring voice. The horse whinnied, took a step back and seemed to accept the command. Once Carson had eased his butt down in that saddle, he knew dang well it was the most dangerous time for both the horse and the rider. Carson’s heart thundered inside his chest as the pickup men escorted the rider right before him out of the arena. It was now Carson’s turn and he was ready to win. The faster he could get out of the chute, the better his chances at a high score. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out as he thrust his chin down to his chest, held on to the rein with one hand, held up his other hand and gave the signal.

Red Comet exploded out of the chute and bucked with his head up, exactly as Carson had expected. The mark out was perfect, with Carson keeping his feet well above the bronc’s shoulders as Red Comet’s front hooves hit the ground for the first time. The jolt racked his body, and his butt popped up off the saddle, then came crashing back down, hard. He leaned back and braced himself for the next one.

When the horse bucked again, everything went wrong in an instant. Carson had allowed his mind to drift, and in that split second, the horse went down with shocking suddenness, and Carson went down with him, hitting the ground with such force that it took his breath away. For a moment it seemed as if the entire arena fell silent, and all Carson could hear was Red Comet’s heavy breathing, along with his own heartbeat drumming in his ears. Dirt shot up his nose and filled his mouth with its gritty, acrid taste. His breath came in short spurts, and he seemed to be pinned under the tremendous weight of the horse. He heard screams and gasps from both the fans and the other cowboys as Red Comet struggled to right himself.

Carson couldn’t move his left leg, his shoulder burned with an intensity he’d never felt before, and even though he’d spit out dirt and blood, he still couldn’t catch his breath. All he could think of was getting out of there, of standing and walking off the arena floor, but his leg was still pinned under Red Comet. Panic began to creep up his spine. He refused to let it take hold, and as his horse continued its struggle to stand, Carson somehow managed to roll free. The quick movement brought on a wave of intense nausea that he tried desperately to control. No way was he going to vomit for somebody’s home video.

He told himself to calm down, that help was on the way, but the fact that he couldn’t take a deep breath kept him on edge, kept the panic knocking around in his head.

Then, as thundering hooves shook the ground, and a flash of bright green crossed his path, Carson’s entire world faded into black.

Chapter One

Three months later: December

Carson Grant emerged from yet another sleepless night with one thought on his mind: Marilyn Rose Connor, his fiancée, had called off their wedding. Not only was his body bruised and battered from the bronc riding accident in the arena, which almost killed Barney, a rodeo clown who had tried to save him, but now his heart had been hung out to dry.

He’d known things hadn’t been good between him and Marilyn Rose for months. But he thought they could work it out, talk it over, see a counselor or, at the very least, argue.

Apparently, that wasn’t what Marilyn Rose had thought. She wanted it over, plain and simple. No talks. No therapy, and under no circumstances would she argue. Going over the past two years of their love affair, he couldn’t remember one moment when she’d fought with him over anything. Even when he’d forgotten their anniversary and inadvertently stood her up for dinner at some fancy restaurant in Las Vegas. When he’d finally caught up with her, she’d merely pouted for a few minutes and let it go.

He had expected a bit of fire, a few harsh words, a verbal slap, but Marilyn Rose didn’t believe in arguments of any kind. She viewed an argument as a failure in the relationship and therefore under no circumstances would she fall into the trap of angry words.

Carson had mustered up a few of those angry words last night when, cool as a breeze coming off a snowcapped mountain, she’d handed him his engagement ring, which he had refused to accept. Instead of lashing out or pleading like a puppy dog, he’d left her sitting at a table inside Sammy’s Smokehouse at the edge of town and somehow managed to walk the five blocks home, in the icy snow, alone, totally dependent on his cane to see him through. She’d followed him, calling out to him to please get in her car, but eventually, after he ignored her pleas the entire way, she drove off right before he opened his front door.

“Dang fool,” he mumbled to himself.

Carson rolled over on his back and stared up at the blank ceiling wondering why he’d never taken the time to do something interesting to all that emptiness. When he was a kid, he’d taped every poster he could find of his favorite saddle bronc rider or bull rider or generic rodeo flyer on his bedroom ceiling. He’d spend hours lying on his bed, staring up at the rodeo stars, dreaming of the day when he’d be one of them. Why was it that when you grew up posters on your bedroom ceiling became taboo? Who made up the adult rules, and why? He would have liked to stare at something right now other than white nothingness. To be able to focus on something positive instead of all the negative crap that spun around in his head, keeping him from thinking straight and keeping him from sleeping.

He blew out a sigh and shoved a hand under his head, realizing that posters of saddle bronc riders would only make him more stressed right now, especially if they were of him, which was one of the reasons why he rented this house in town. The walls at his parents’ ranch house were littered with framed photos of his rides, his awards and his “promising future” as a saddle bronc rider from the time he’d won his first buckle to just before his last ride.

He stopped himself from musing any further. He wasn’t going to think about that last ride. Not now. Not this morning when he’d just been dumped with less than a month to go before his wedding. Couldn’t she have called it off before they’d sent out the invitations? Before all those people had started sending gifts?

At least she dumped your butt before you were standing at the altar waiting for her to happily walk down the aisle.

He thought about his sister Kayla’s wedding day and what a fiasco that had turned out to be, and decided this was probably some kind of cosmic payback...that he fully deserved. He still felt bad for Jimmy Bartley.

“Poor sap probably never saw it coming.”

At the time, Carson had been focused on his sister’s misery and her not wanting to go through with the wedding. Now, after being dumped, he knew exactly what Jimmy Bartley had felt: total humiliation.

He knew his sisters could change their minds on a dime, but he’d never thought any one of them would actually change her mind minutes before one of the biggest decisions of her life.

But then this wasn’t the first potential marriage for Kayla. He’d been the one who’d rescued her out of the first one, as well. Seemed he did a lot of rescuing for his sisters over the years. Probably more than his fair share. And where did it get him?

“Dumped by your fiancée, that’s where,” he said out loud.

He could use a little rescuing right about now.

Unfortunately, he knew he wasn’t the type to accept it or he’d be recovering comfortably at home with his mom and sisters doting on him day and night.

The mere thought of all those women bringing him food and fussing over his battered body was way too much for him to think about much less allow. Nope, he’d much rather be sulking on his own until he could figure out his next step. He didn’t want or need anyone’s care, apparently not even his own fiancée’s.

Careful to not sit up too quickly, he slid out of bed with deliberate care. His head still wasn’t right from the concussion he’d suffered, and he was sure his shoulder would never be the same after the torn rotator cuff and broken collarbone. Even though his doctors had assured him he’d be as good as new in a few months, Carson realized “good as new” wasn’t in the cards for him. Not this time. He’d suffered a lot of injuries since he’d started the rodeo circuit, but none had been this devastating. His ribs still ached from having been cracked, and if he tried to put all his weight on his left leg, the pain in his thigh would sometimes bring him to tears. His thigh bone had been cracked in four places, and if it wasn’t for the metal rod that held it all together, he probably wouldn’t be able to walk.

But none of that mattered this morning.

What mattered was that Marilyn Rose had come all the way to Briggs, Idaho, right before the Vegas Nationals, where she was a shoo-in to win a buckle and a substantial purse for barrel racing, to extinguish the only light that still burned in his otherwise bleak life.

“At least she’d had the decency to tell me to my face,” he said as he slipped on a robe over his T-shirt and pj bottoms to keep warm in the chilly, essentially empty house.

He’d rented the two-bedroom bungalow a couple months back thinking he and Marilyn Rose would furnish it together, would call it home for the next year or two when they weren’t on the road pursuing championships to keep their dreams alive. Unfortunately, Marilyn Rose had never stepped one foot into his house and even last night she’d insisted they meet at a restaurant.

He should have known something was up as soon as she’d suggested Sammy’s, but he’d been so excited that she was finally flying in for a visit that he hadn’t considered anything other than a heart-to-heart conversation on how they could make their relationship work.

“Dang romantic chump,” he mumbled as he made his way out to the kitchen, rubbing his two-day-old beard while walking past the stacked wedding presents that had begun to arrive on a daily basis. He’d opened the outer boxes on a few of them, but hadn’t unwrapped anything. Now there they sat as a reminder of his failed attempt at love.

He really needed that first cup of strong black tea and a dose of his drugs to ease the pain that still racked his body.

He’d stopped taking heavy pain meds about a month ago, replacing them with over-the-counter types that at least allowed him to move around freely. He wondered if he could find something on the drugstore shelves to help ease his broken heart...or was it more his broken ego? Nothing made much sense anymore. It was almost as if his emotions had somehow gotten tangled up with his physical discomfort and he could no longer tell which was hurting more.

The doorbell rang before he could get to the kitchen and instead of answering it he proceeded to his destination, put the teakettle on, poured a glass of orange juice and dumped out his pills on the cluttered counter. He wasn’t much for keeping things tidy and had hired a cleaning service to come in once a week to manage the place, which seemed to make him only more careless.

Ding-dong.

He figured either it had to be another wedding present being delivered by an energetic UPS driver, or it might be Sal Hastings ringing his doorbell. Sal was his eighty-two-year-old neighbor who liked to drop by to remind him they needed to clear the fresh snow from the sidewalks and walkways out front. Whenever even one snowflake fell, Sal revved up the old snowblower and proceeded to clear off the entire block. Carson had no choice but to help him. If Sal collapsed blowing snow off his walkway, Carson would never forgive himself. Besides, Sal had been a rock to him while he’d been recuperating. He hoped it wasn’t more snow; he couldn’t be loopy while handling machinery with a senior citizen in tow. He’d tried it once and nearly ran over Sal’s right foot.

Ding-dong.

“I’ll be right there,” he yelled at the closed door. He glanced out through the sheer curtains on the front windows and didn’t see the familiar brown UPS truck, which meant that Sal was ringing the bell. Problem was, he really didn’t want to deal with Sal this morning. He needed time to brood and feel sorry for himself. The thought of conversing with another human being was like a heavy weight bearing down on his shoulders. He hoped Sal would somehow get the telepathic message, lose interest and go away.

Unfortunately, Sal, being a determined, persnickety senior, was now knocking on Carson’s door. Quick little jabs of noise sparked through his already-aching head, causing him more pain than he wanted to suffer.

So much for Sal’s foot.

He downed his medication and the juice, pulled in a deep breath and headed for the front door, hoping Sal would be scared off by his disheveled look and ornery disposition. The snow could wait this morning, at least until he’d had his tea.

He yanked open the door ready to tell Sal he wasn’t in the mood to clean sidewalks, but standing in front of him, with two feet of snow piled up on the walkway behind her, flashing those innocent, pure brown doe eyes of hers, was Zoe Smart, his wedding planner. She looked all warm and cozy wearing a white knit hat over long fire-colored waves that cascaded down the front of a tan quilted jacket. Her tight jeans clung to every curve, while high chunky gray boots warded off the cold and snow.

He wished now he’d never opened the door. Granted, she was pleasant to look at on this dark and gloomy morning; however, this cowboy wanted nothing to do with her, and especially her wedding plans.

She gave him a once-over, an eyebrow went up, and he could tell she wasn’t happy with his appearance, but then he wasn’t too happy with hers, either. What was she doing knocking on his door so early in the morning looking so perky and organized and, well, cute as a button?

“We had an appointment at ten o’clock today,” she said, sounding much too chipper for his dour disposition. “Your fiancée made it about two months ago. I confirmed it with her last week. We were supposed to go over the final details of your wedding. If this is a bad time, I can—”

“Wait. What time is it? Are you early or am I late? And why didn’t anyone tell me the meeting would be at my house?”

He’d last seen Zoe Smart when she’d been waiting for his sister Kayla in front of St. Paul’s. He had driven his sister to the church, as he’d promised Zoe the night before at the rehearsal dinner, but when it came time for Kayla to get out of his SUV, she wouldn’t budge. The whole way to the church, he’d tried to convince her that Jimmy Bartley was her soul mate, but Kayla would have none of it. He’d learned long ago that once his baby sister made up her mind, nothing short of divine intervention was going to change it.

He clearly remembered Zoe’s stunned expression when he’d driven away that morning with the bride still sitting in the backseat of his SUV, sobbing uncontrollably. In fact, he hadn’t been able to stop watching the wedding planner in his rearview mirror, noticing her shoulders slump, and her head moving from side to side in disbelief. It was almost as if their gazes were one in that frozen moment. Suddenly he wasn’t sure whom he felt worse for, his confused sister, Jimmy Bartley—patiently waiting at the altar inside the church for his beautiful bride—or their wedding planner. He knew Kayla had put Zoe Smart through hell changing her mind at least five times about every little detail.

Since that horrible day, he had deliberately steered clear of Zoe and made up excuses to his fiancée as to why he couldn’t attend any of the meetings about their wedding. If he’d known about the meeting today, he would have done something to get out of it. Yet here he was, staring at Zoe Smart standing in his doorway.

Whatever Marilyn Rose and Zoe planned for the wedding had always been fine with him. Carson had simply nodded and agreed whenever he was asked a question. The wedding details were his fiancée’s responsibility. His job was planning the honeymoon.

Damn. He’d made the final payment and confirmed their two-week Hawaiian trip just last week.

“In order,” Zoe began, “it’s now past noon, so you’re extremely late and in the realm of standing me up. I don’t usually make house calls unless I’m invited, which I was not. However, I tried calling you, but you didn’t pick up. Also, I couldn’t leave a message, because you’ve reached your limit on your cell phone. You should really take care of that. It’s annoying to your callers. I tried texting, and again no reply. You left me no alternative. You and your fiancée have to decide on your flowers for the church today or you might not be able to get what you want.” She paused a moment as if considering his appearance and foul mood. “But again, if this is inconvenient for you, I can try to hold the florist off for another day or so.”

He stared at Zoe and smiled as he ran a hand through his tousled hair, trying to make some sense out of his mixed-up life. Normally, he would invite her inside where it was relatively warm. Unfortunately, there was nothing normal about this situation, so Carson decided to ignore his good manners and left her out on the front stoop, a condition she should be somewhat used to from their last encounter.

“No, this is, um, convenient,” he told her, lying. It was a horrible time. The absolute worst time. There couldn’t be a more pitiful moment for his wedding planner to show up asking him to decide on flowers for the church. There would be no church. No flowers. No wedding. No bride. Just a pathetic, broken-down cowboy wondering what had happened to his promising life.

Carson absentmindedly let out a sigh, then caught himself before he told her the truth of the matter. He wasn’t about to blurt out that his fiancée had dumped him, so the entire town would know that not only was he still home licking his physical wounds from his last competition, but the one woman he thought he’d lassoed for life had discarded him like a pair of old boots. He could only imagine all the sympathy meals and phone calls he’d get for that one. Besides, there was no way he was ready to face his family with the news, even though they’d probably be delighted. Marilyn Rose’s dour personality never did sit well with his easygoing folks and siblings.

Nope, before he told Zoe Smart the wedding had been called off, he needed a shower, a cup of tea and a little snow blowing with Sal.

“Let’s meet in your office in, say, three hours. Will that work?” he asked, trying to sound as positive as his muddled brain could muster.

“That’s perfect. It will give me time to set up everything I want to show you and Marilyn Rose.”

He started to tell her that his fiancée wouldn’t be there, but instantly changed his mind. They said their goodbyes, and as he closed the door, he hoped three hours was enough time to pull his thoughts together and prepare for the onslaught of questions he would no doubt have to find answers for during the next few weeks, leading up to Christmas Day. It wouldn’t be so bad if he hadn’t announced to the entire town last Christmas that he and Marilyn Rose were engaged and planned to get married on Christmas Day the following year.

Her idea, not his.

Most definitely not his.

But now she’d called it off on the exact day he’d proposed a year ago. Dang, he would try to keep that little detail to himself.

* * *

“SOUNDS TO ME like you done fell into a barrel of shucks and can’t get yer’self out of the bottom of that there barrel,” Sal offered as he and Carson shuffled along behind the noisy snowblower. Carson held on to the handle and Sal directed their movement up the walkways and driveways. “You gotta start thinkin’ of how to break free of all them shucks. They’ll suffocate ya after too long.”

The snowblower sputtered and Sal hit it with a long stick he kept handy. They methodically moved forward, pure white snow piling up along the outer edges of the sidewalk. The streets were empty, but plowed clean. Most of the cars were tucked away in garages or pulled up into the driveways so the plows had an easy time of it. Ever since Carson had moved back to town, he’d learned the rhythm of its people and tried to comply. He no longer parked his SUV on the street, pulled his garbage cans in after the trucks emptied them and had learned to be friendly to his neighbors, Sal being the result of that friendliness.

“I wanted to work it out, but she didn’t want to hear it,” Carson said as he pushed the blower along his other neighbor’s front walkway. They’d already cleared both their own and now they were onto the rest of the block. There were ten houses on their block and it usually took them about an hour and a half to get through them all. He had a feeling today’s cleanup might take longer, but he didn’t mind. Talking to Sal was already helping his sour mood.

“Workin’ it out with a woman who already moved on ain’t reasonable. It’s like tryin’ to convince the wind not to blow in a hurricane. Ain’t no negotiatin’ with somethin’ that already is.”

Sal had a way of putting everything into perspective. “But I’m still in love with her.” The words came out more as a defense rather than an expression of his true emotions.

“Is that a fact?”

“Of course it is,” Carson insisted, even though he wasn’t sure about anything anymore, including his feelings for his now ex-fiancée.

They walked in silence for a while, the roar of the blower drowning out any other sound. Carson favored his left leg and Sal shuffled his feet as the two men made their way up the sidewalk. They were quite the pair.

Then Sal shook his head as if he was giving his thoughts a jump start. “Seems to me not too long ago you was tellin’ me how your feelin’s for her was slippin’ away. Now that she don’t want you no more, that love done returned? Better think what love is, son, ’cause it don’t sound as if it’s sittin’ in your heart the way it should.”

Carson knew he hadn’t felt the same for Marilyn Rose for a long time, but he’d made excuses for it. Nothing seemed right since he’d had to step away from rodeo life. Not only had he been busy second-guessing his relationship with his fiancée, but he’d speculated on what life would be like if he never went back into an arena, never went back to rodeo. If he worked the family ranch instead. Maybe he’d had enough of saddle bronc riding, of torturing his body, of never being home more than a few weeks at a time. Maybe he needed a change. That simple thought had sent his ego spiraling downward.

If he wasn’t a bronc rider, who was he?

“My heart’s heavy right now, Sal. I don’t know what I want or who I love.”

“Only one person you gotta love. It’s the only way you can pull yourself outta that there barrel.”

The blower sputtered again and Sal banged on it several times. This time, it hesitated, coughed and blew out a red bow from one of the many Christmas decorations on the front lawns and lining some of the walkways. The Christmas season had arrived on Howdy Street and everyone had taken the time to string lights, put up trees and wreaths, and with so much snow had created elaborate snowmen on their front lawns... Everyone except Carson. Now the chances of him celebrating the holiday with even one holly twig seemed remote.

“I already love you, Sal. Heck, I don’t need to love anyone else,” he teased as he draped his good arm around Sal’s shoulders and pulled him in closer for a moment, almost knocking both of them to the ground. Despite Sal’s height, at least six feet, he was as fragile as a bird and couldn’t weigh more than a grasshopper. His winter clothes engulfed him as if he’d shrunk down a few sizes, and his rubber boots rode his spindly legs like hoops around a stick.

“Thanks, but I’m not talkin’ about you lovin’ me. I got a whole brood of family who love me more than I can keep track of. I’m talkin’ about you lovin’ yer’self, son. Seems you forgot how. I know it’s not somthin’ a cowboy thinks about, but it’s somthin’ that either comes naturally or it’s somethin’ you gotta wrangle. You remind me of a sapling. Time to tie you to a stick to keep you upright or you’re gonna fall over and die.”

Carson chuckled at the old man’s analogy. He knew dang well that men from Sal’s generation acted mostly on reason, grit and lust. Where Sal got this whole notion of loving himself was beyond what Carson could grasp. It seemed almost as if Sal’s open-minded tolerance was tangled up in an older person’s body, and his thoughts poured out in a cowboy dialect that reminded Carson of all the old-timers he’d met on the road.

“I’ll take that under advisement, Sal. Thanks for the kick.”

“Whatever I can do,” he said, then he whacked the snowblower with his stick a couple times as they continued up the sidewalk.

* * *

EVENTUALLY CARSON GRANT showed up in Zoe’s small office located inside All About A Bride, a bridal shop owned by Greta Green, distant cousin to Milo Gump, who owned Spud Drive-In, and Belly Up Tavern. He looked like his normal self—incredibly handsome and ready to win his next buckle...kind of. So maybe he still had a limp, used a cane and couldn’t seem to lift his left arm without wincing. Zoe was sure the man was itching to get back in that bronc saddle and make the people of Briggs, Idaho, proud.

“I thought your fiancée would be with you today,” Zoe commented as he took a seat in the empty black chair next to her. He wore a dark blue shirt, a black tie, a dark blue suit coat, jeans and black Western boots. By his somewhat formal attire, Zoe concluded he took wedding planning seriously. It wasn’t what she expected, given he’d been absent for the majority of previous meetings.

They sat in front of a round glass coffee table loaded down with binders that contained swatches of fabric, vendor business cards and photos of past weddings. Her laptop was open to Carson’s account with a depiction of what he and his fiancée had already agreed upon. They wanted a country wedding, complete with a country DJ who would play some of the older hits.

“Something came up,” he said, shifting his eyes away from hers just as Piper walked into the room. Though Piper was Zoe’s opposite in almost every aspect, when it came to the love of a beautiful wedding and business acumen, they were in total agreement. Everything else about Piper, Zoe had learned to accept. Well, everything except Piper’s lack of any kind of thought filter. If something bounced around in her head, she usually had no qualms with dumping it on anyone who happened to be within earshot. Zoe had asked her a thousand times to please lock those thoughts away until a more agreeable moment, but most often Piper simply couldn’t control herself.

“I heard Marilyn Rose was in town last night but left in a hurry,” Piper said, causing Zoe to cringe. Apparently, this was one of those uncontrollable times. “Everything okay with you and your sweetie pie?” Piper asked as she took the seat next to Carson, the seat that was designated for his fiancée.

Except for her cowgirl black boots, Piper was dressed entirely in black Goth today, complete with lacy long sleeves on her silky blouse, which she wore under her black lace-up corset. “Zoe and I don’t want to be putting out all this effort, and spending all your hard-earned money, if you two are on the skids. When I was buying my morning muffin and coffee over at Holy Rollers, Amanda Gump told me she saw you storm out of Sammy’s Smokehouse last night well before your fiancée. She said you walked home in the snow, alone. Is there anything to that lonely, cold walk you want to share with us?”

Zoe held her breath and waited for Carson’s answer, her heart beating madly. If he cancelled now, Zoe wouldn’t be able to pay the rent on their office. Greta was already charging them half of what the space was worth, but she’d certainly draw the line if they stopped paying altogether, especially right before Christmas. Then there was always the storage facility they kept outside of town that held all their merchandise and supplies like folding chairs and tables, silk flowers, various types of vases, paper umbrellas and a myriad of decorations their clients could rent for a fraction of the cost of buying from local retailers.

“I’m sure Carson wouldn’t be sitting here if something that unfortunate had happened. He would’ve told me straight-out when I knocked on his door earlier to remind him of our meeting.” Zoe felt hopeful. Logic told her she was right and everyone else was merely jumping to their usual negative conclusions.

Piper donned a sly grin. “Oh, I don’t know. Guys don’t generally like to admit romantic defeat.” She turned back to Carson and waited for his answer.

He hesitated for what seemed like minutes, causing Zoe’s stomach to sour from all the healthy green juice she’d consumed earlier that morning. Then he leaned forward in his chair, clasped his hands together, resting them on his injured thigh, and said, “I’m going to ignore that bit of town gossip and get on with my wedding plans.”

Zoe instantly let out the breath she’d been holding, while Piper rattled on about whether or not to have red or white poinsettias in the church, as if everything she’d just insinuated had never left her lips.

“Personally, I think either one would do,” Carson said, looking a bit overwhelmed.

Piper pushed on. “Maybe we should wait on this meeting until your fiancée returns. After all, we’ll be deciding the details of seating arrangements, and any last-minute changes to the itinerary, and—”

“She left me in charge...for now anyway,” Carson said, cutting her off. “Marilyn Rose isn’t one for a lot of fuss. And since she, um...didn’t really want a fancy wedding in the first place, and only agreed to it because of my family, I get the honor of choosing all the last-minute details while she’s off winning the Nationals in Vegas. My sister Kayla can help if it comes to that.”

“No, that’s fine,” Zoe said, probably faster than she’d meant to, but having Kayla decide anything would be worse than if he simply called the whole thing off. The woman’s indecision on her own scuttled wedding had not only cost Zoe money and time, but had given her chronic heartburn, which she had only recently overcome. “I’m sure you can handle all the decisions yourself.”

Piper’s face reflected her doubt.

Carson turned to Piper, looking somewhat offended by her obvious eye roll. “What? You think the groom can’t make these decisions?”

Zoe knew this conversation wasn’t going in a positive direction. Piper could be caustic when there were any changes to the original plan. She was one of those steadfast people who didn’t like spontaneity of any kind. Whereas Zoe could easily lose focus with the slightest breeze, which was just another reason why they worked so well together and had been friends for so long.

They complimented each other’s personality quirks.

“I think it’s refreshing to work with the groom, especially when it seems that the bride is busy with her exciting career,” Zoe added. “If she scores well in Vegas, she’ll come away with one of the biggest purses in the history of her sport. Her complete focus needs to be on excelling and it shows a total trust in your union that you’re here today making the final choices for your wedding. Besides, most of the big decisions have already been made. All that’s left are a few incidentals that I’m sure we can take care of in no time.”

Piper slid back in her chair and let out a skeptical sounding, “Uh-huh.”

Zoe ignored her. Carson apparently hadn’t noticed Piper’s petulance and instead seemed to be zeroing in on Zoe’s optimism. His striking face brightened. The change in his demeanor was astounding and Zoe felt the tension she’d had in her shoulders relax.

“Can I get you anything before we start?” Zoe asked Carson. “Water? Coffee? Beer?”

He hesitated and briefly cleared his throat. “A cup of black tea with milk would be great.”

Piper stood. “Comin’ right up,” she said with a touch of snark to her voice. “Tea for the cowboy.”

While Piper busied herself with Carson’s tea, a beverage Zoe never guessed a rough-and-tumble guy like Carson would ever drink, Zoe brought up their website and began showing Carson possible floral arrangements for the church. The weird thing about being that close to Carson Grant was the fact that if he wasn’t her client and getting married in a few weeks, she would be swooning all over him.

She’d had a crush on Carson ever since they were kids. The town was big enough that she had never known him personally when they were growing up, but she’d seen him around enough to be drawn to him even then. Plus, his riding abilities were legendary. When he became the grand marshal for the annual Fourth of July parade three years ago, she couldn’t help but be attracted to him sitting up there on that majestic black stallion.

He’d always been the town catch, even if she’d never seriously been in the running.

Piper had told her to make a move on him back then, and she had, but it hadn’t worked out the way she’d hoped. Asking for his autograph was not exactly what Piper had had in mind, especially when Zoe had been just one of many women who’d stood in line that day.

When he’d shared some family secrets with her at Kayla’s rehearsal dinner and then assured her that he’d get his sister to the church for her wedding, Zoe had felt they’d made a connection, at least on a friendship basis. But when he’d driven right past the church with his sister crying in the backseat, all thoughts of friendship quickly faded. If they had been friends, he surely would have stopped and allowed her to talk to Kayla.

Now he was getting married to the darling of the rodeo circuit, and Zoe was planning their wedding. She was thankful for the business, but if she had a choice, she would rather be preparing a wedding for just about anybody but the man sitting next to her.

Still, if there was any truth to what Piper had said about him and his fiancée being on the skids... But that was impossible. What woman in her right mind would give up on Carson Grant?

Certainly not his fiancée, his soul mate, Marilyn Rose.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.