by Tawna Fenske
“Here.” Sean thrusts the tray at us. “Hurry up and eat the last of these so I can put the damn tray down and go make out in the backseat of a Gremlin or something.”
“How about a vintage Volvo?” Austin grabs one of the ceviche bites. “I have it on good authority the seats tilt back nicely.”
I flush with the memory as Amber rolls her eyes. “No car sex,” she says. “Yet. I’m holding out for a slow dance to an eighties ballad. ‘Careless Whisper,’ or maybe ‘True.’”
“How about Poison doing ‘Talk Dirty to Me?’” Sean suggests.
Amber pretends to consider it. “That’ll do.”
I grab a couple more shrimp bites and set one on Austin’s plate. “A slow dance for a trip to second base,” he muses. “That seems fair.”
Shoveling in a mouthful of shrimp ceviche, I make yummy noises at my brother. “Thanks for playing waiter,” I tell him. “I’ve had four different people gush at me about meeting the famous chef.”
“It’s been fun,” he admits. “Except the part where some old lady tried to stuff a handful of ones in my pants.”
Austin cringes, and I know what he’s thinking. Mrs. Sampson.
I glance across the room and see her making a beeline for James. My brother’s wearing a pained expression and an Armani tux that’s totally not eighties, but I doubt anyone notices. He’s distinguished and handsome and totally out of his element.
It’s good for him.
Mrs. Sampson gives his tie a flirty yank and says something that makes him step back. I should probably go save him, but James is a big boy. He can handle himself.
I glance back to see Amber’s watching him, too. “Lawyer Boy needs someone to spike his punch.”
Sean and I both laugh. “You have someone in mind for the job?” I ask.
“I might.” Amber tosses her poofy ponytail and smiles. “You’ve met my friend, Lily?”
The word man-eater floats through my head, but I bite my tongue. “The one in the painted-on silver-sequined dress that looks like a zillion bucks?”
“That’s her.” Amber plucks another ceviche bite off Sean’s platter. “Let’s talk TV. Has your phone been ringing off the hook since the commercials started airing?”
“It’s insane.” I smile up at Austin, who just exchanged a funny look with Sean and mouthed something I couldn’t make out. What the heck?
“I love that one clip of the reindeer at the wedding ceremony.” I focus on Amber, ignoring the fact that the guys are acting odd. “And that candid shot of Jade and Brandon kissing by the barn.”
“Oh, she hates that.” Amber laughs. “At least she says she does.”
We both know better, which is awesome. Not just that Jade’s so happy, though that’s awesome, too. I love having a clique, having these girlfriend relationships where we read each other’s undercurrents. It’s something I always wished for.
Amber’s still talking, so I order myself to stop being a socially-awkward dork and pay attention. “Besides landing a bunch of weddings, we’ve already booked the reindeer for five new holiday appearances in December.”
“Hope you don’t run out of reindeer,” Austin says.
“Funny you say that.” Amber snags another shrimp bite. “Jade’s talking about adopting two more from some rescue place in Eastern Oregon, just to make sure we’ve got enough. I swear, your aunt is a hero.”
I smile and reach up to tug Austin’s tie. “Remind me to send flowers to Genevieve.”
“You can give them to her in person,” he says. “She’ll be at dinner next week.”
See? That’s what I mean. I’m part of a family now, part of a community. I love that I go to his parents’ place for holidays, and that he joins my brothers and me for dinner at the resort. We’ve woven ourselves into each other’s families, and it’s hard to imagine we weren’t always part of the fabric of each other’s lives.
“Hey, guys.” Chelsea from Dew Drop Cupcakes sidles up with a tray of mini treats and waves it under our noses. “I’ve got chocolate with lavender buttercream and lime with toasted meringue. Help me out so I can get home and relieve the babysitter.”
A little ripple of disappointment runs through me. “You’re not sticking around to dance?”
“‘Fraid not.” Chelsea blows her teased-up bangs off her forehead. “The kiddo had a tummy ache earlier this week, so I’ll feel better if I’m home. Amy’s covering me here for the rest of the night.”
“That’s too bad,” I say, hoping I sound suitably sympathetic about the kid. “I was hoping you could meet my brother.”
“Hello.” Sean lifts his brows. “What am I, chopped liver?”
“She already knows you, dummy.” I slug him in the arm. “I meant Mark.”
Amber pretends to stagger with astonishment. “Mark’s coming? To an eighties prom? In public?”
“Not technically,” I admit. “But I was thinking I could break something and he’d have to come fix it.”
Chelsea laughs and pops a mini cupcake onto everyone’s plate. “Some other time. Gotta run.”
She hustles away, followed by Sean and Amber, which leaves me alone with Austin. He gives me a raised eyebrow before pulling me against his chest. “Promise me you’re not matchmaking your grumpy, burly brother with a sweet cupcake peddler,” he says.
“I’ll promise no such thing,” I tell him. “I only make promises I’m positive I can keep.”
“Good to know.” The words rumble through him, sending soft vibrations against my chest. We sway together under the twirling lights, our bodies fitted together like we’re molded out of clay. When Austin speaks again, there’s a surprising tenderness in his voice. “Is this everything you wanted it to be?”
The prom.
He means the prom, but maybe that’s not all he means. “It’s better than I expected.” I pull back to look at him, needing him to understand I mean all of this. Him, me, the two of us together. “It’s so much better than I ever imagined I’d have.”
He smiles, and I know he gets it. “I’m glad. So damn glad.”
I snuggle into him again, closing my eyes as we sway to the music. When the ballad starts to fade, I open my eyes to see Jade and Brandon standing next to the small stage at the other end of the room.
Did Austin just nod at them?
I draw back to study him, but he’s got the perfect poker face. “What?”
“Nothing. I just—”
Screeeeeeeeech!
A microphone’s shriek bounces off the ballroom walls, halting the final notes of Madonna crooning “Crazy for You.” I jerk back and turn to see Brandon hopping onto the stage, mike in his hand.
“Good evening, ladies and gentleman,” he says. “Thank you all for coming to the first annual Kids and Critters Eighties Prom. Everyone having a great time?”
Wait, what?
“This isn’t on the agenda,” I whisper. Glancing up, I see Austin’s not the least bit alarmed. In fact, he looks—excited? Nervous?
What on earth is happening?
There’s a clatter of enthusiastic applause, and I turn my attention back to the stage. Hold on, is that Sean and James and—wait, Mark?— off to the side looking obnoxiously smug?
Up on stage, Brandon shifts the mike to his other hand. “It’s time to announce this year’s prom king and queen.”
Jade walks across the stage to join him, holding a red velvet pillow topped with a sparkly tiara that resembles one my mother made me wear to a cotillion years ago. Beside it is a crown that looks just as old. Didn’t Austin say Brandon was their class’s prom king?
Brandon shoots us a wink and continues. “Austin Dugan and Bree Bracelyn, will you come up here?”
I gasp. I can’t help it. This can’t be happening.
One look at Austin tells me it’s not only happening, he’s behind it.
Oh my God.
“Come on.” Austin grins and pulls me toward the stage as my heart thuds in my ears.
It’s silly
to be so excited. I know that, but I still am. It’s not like I harbor some teenage fantasy of being prom queen, but it’s the idea of it. The thought I belong. That I matter enough for someone to go to this kind of trouble for me.
My legs wobble as we mount the steps to the stage. A cluster of helium balloons bobs up from behind the speakers. Blue and gold, red and white, they float into the air amid gasps of surprised delight from the crowd.
I still can’t figure out what’s happening, but I love it. I want to record every second to watch over and over when I catch myself feeling like my scared, friendless teenage self. I glance at my brothers again to see Sean holding a video recorder. He gives me a thumbs-up, then makes a shooing motion to focus my attention back to the stage.
“Wow, this is such an honor,” Austin’s saying, and I realize he’s holding the mike now. How did that happen?
He crouches down so Jade can put the crown on his head before she slides sideways and secures my tiara in place. Then she squeezes my arm and steps back.
Austin smiles and continues. “Can’t claim I’m too qualified to be a prom king, but everyone in this room who’s met Bree knows she’s already a queen.”
More applause echoes through the room as my heart swells, and my eyes fill with tears. I swallow hard, wondering when my throat closed up. Not that I’d have any idea what to say right now.
Austin lets go of my hand. The second he reaches into his jacket pocket, I know. I know what’s happening here.
Oh my God.
“Prom night might be a weird time to do this,” he says, offering me an awkward smile. “I promise this isn’t a shotgun kinda thing.”
There’s a ripple of laughter in the front row, but my eyes are fixed on Austin’s face. I’m dimly aware of the ring box, but that’s not what I care about. What I care about most is the look in his eyes right now. It’s a look that says we belong together, forever and ever, the two of us.
I know because I’m feeling it, too.
“Bree Bracelyn,” he says. “I’m madly, passionately, crazily in love with you.”
He drops to one knee, and a tear slips down my cheek. I always told myself I wouldn’t be one of those sobbing women if someone proposed to me. I’d be serene and composed and joyful, but I can’t seem to stop the tears leaking from the edges of my eyes.
“You’re crazy,” I whisper, and my voice comes out on a sob. “I love you so much.”
There’s a flicker of relief in his eyes, and I realize what it took for him to do this. Sure, we’ve talked about marriage—duh—but putting himself out there like this. Taking a public risk.
If it’s possible, I love him more now than I did thirty seconds ago.
I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt as Austin sets the mike on the floor beside him and opens the ring box. Something sparkly is inside, but I can’t see it through the tears. That’s fine, it’s not the ring that matters.
“You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, and I can’t imagine the rest of my life without you in it,” he continues. “Marry me, Bree. Be my queen forever.”
He hardly gets the words pasts his lips before I’m choking out a response. “Yes,” I sob as another tear slips down my cheek. “Oh my God, yes.” I nod so hard the tiara slips off my head, but he catches it in one hand.
The other hand’s still gripping the ring box, so he sets the tiara on the floor next to the mike and slips the ring on my finger. A perfect fit. I blink hard to clear my vision and realize it’s something vintage. Oh my God, his grandmother’s ring? His mom showed it to me at Thanksgiving when we sat with his sisters to paw through her old jewelry box. I played it cool, but it was all I could do not to fall over myself blathering about how beautiful it was, how lucky they were to have family memories like that.
Austin stands up and puts the tiara back on my head. The crowd’s applauding now, but I can hardly hear over the roar in my head. All I can see is Austin, the love in his eyes, the smile on his face.
He’s going to be my husband.
I throw both arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss so passionate I see stars flickering in front of my eyes. Or maybe that’s the confetti.
“Austin.” I draw back to flutter a hand through the shreds of colorful paper and glittery bits falling around us. “How did you pull this off?”
He grins and kisses me again. “That’s the nice thing about being a small-town cop. Lots of connections to good people.”
I wiggle my finger in front of me, thrilled to see that ring on my finger. Thrilled to be in Austin’s arms. Thrilled to realize this is my life. Friendless Bree Bracelyn—who’d have thought?
I twine my hands around his neck as someone ducks close for a photo. “So this is what I was missing out on with my no-cops rule.”
He laughs and tips his chin down, brushing my lips with his as the crowd cheers. “Here’s to a lifetime of breaking rules together.”
Ready for Mark and Chelsea’s story? That’s next in the Ponderosa Resort Romantic Comedy Series, and it’s coming March 1, 2019. You can pre-order it here:
Hottie Lumberjack
books2read.com/u/mZP6QB
Want to go back to the beginning with the holiday prequel for the Ponderosa Resort Romantic Comedy series? That’s Jade and Brandon’s story, and you’ll find Studmuffin Santa here:
Studmuffin Santa
Keep reading for a glimpse at the opening scene from Studmuffin Santa . . .
Your exclusive sneak peek at Studmuffin Santa
JADE
“Here’s a little secret, woman to woman.” I lean closer, making sure I have her undivided attention. “It’s the small things that make a difference. A good mani/pedi, maybe sprucing up your hair a bit? The boys are going to notice.”
The lady in question shoots me a dubious look but says nothing.
That’s probably because I’m the last person who should give dating advice.
Also, because she’s a reindeer.
“Come on,” I coax, lifting Tammy’s back hoof. “Just let me trim the edge, and you’ll be all set. I promise I won’t nip the quick this time.”
Tammy responds by trying to lie down in the chute, which is the opposite of helpful. “You were a lot more cooperative when you were in heat.”
A familiar laugh rings through the barn, and I turn to see my sister skipping into the pen wearing a red and green Christmas sweater. I swear Amber owns at least sixty of them, and they’re on constant rotation this time of year.
“If by ‘cooperative’ you mean ‘trying to hump everything in sight,’ you’re spot-on,” she says. “Didn’t she put the moves on the feed trough last time she was in heat?”
“You can’t judge a girl when she’s desperate.”
“True enough,” Amber says, reaching out to scratch Tammy behind her right ear. “I thought you didn’t trim hooves unless their antlers are in the soft stage.”
“I don’t, but she had a cracked hoof, and I can’t get the farrier out until next Saturday. Come on, help me hold her.”
Amber moves to the front of the chute to coo in Tammy’s ear. “Don’t worry, girl,” she murmurs. “We’re going with artificial insemination next time. No more awkward humping from Harold.”
“We should probably start calling them by their stage names now that it’s November,” I point out as I snip the edge of Tammy’s—make that Dasher’s—hoof. “And dial back the sex talk. Our first kiddie field trip shows up in an hour. They don’t need to hear about humping.”
“Actually, I think humping is the first thing they’d want to hear about,” Amber points out as I turn Tammy’s hoof to get the other side. “That and pooping. You’ll make the kids’ week if you can work more bodily functions into your reindeer presentations.”
I sigh and snip again. “Maybe not the image we want to put out there for Jingle Bell Reindeer Ranch. Please tell me you’ve channeled that marketing degree into something more helpful.”
My sister beams and holds Tammy
’s head a little tighter as the reindeer struggles to halt the pedicure. “That’s what I came to tell you, actually. Some fabulous news.”
“Oh yeah? You talked them out of hosting weddings at Ponderosa Luxury Ranch Resort?”
I deliver those last four words with my best socialite sneer, which would be a more convincing impersonation if I weren’t dressed in muddy flannel and knee-high rubber boots. My sister shakes her head.
“Not yet. I have a meeting next week with their marketing person. Maybe I’ll convince them to ditch that plan.”
“Try undoing a couple buttons on your top.”
“She’s a woman, so no.”
“Don’t rule it out.” I set Tammy’s left hoof down gently, then reach for the right. She gives a little kick, but my grip is firm, and she eventually settles in. I start snipping again, working my way carefully around the edges. “So what did you come to tell me?”
“The best news,” Amber says. “Awesome news!” She pauses for dramatic effect, and I glance up to see her cheeks are rosy with excitement. “I hired Santa.”
She bounces on her heels, her holiday cheer more contagious than mumps. I catch myself starting to smile. “From the way you’re acting, you either hired Brad Pitt or you made out with him in the tack room,” I observe. “Maybe both.”
“Please.” She rolls her eyes at me as I set down Tammy’s hoof and give her a gentle pat on the rump. Amber lets go of the reindeer’s neck and plants a kiss on her cheek, expertly dodging Tammy’s massive, branchlike antlers.
Amber pulls the lever to release the chute. “You’re free!” she sings as Tammy gallops into the pasture, bounding like a kitten mainlining catnip. “That’s pretty much how I felt breaking up with Zak last week,” my sister mutters as she turns back to me.
“You mean this time?” My sister and her boyfriend split up more often than most people change socks, but I have to admit it seems to be sticking.
“I’m serious this time,” she says. “I’m focusing three-hundred percent on the reindeer ranch. No more men for me right now, even if he did look like Clooney.”
