by Carly Bloom
“Oh, never!” Alice said. “You were never anything but kind, Claire.”
Maggie touched Alice’s shoulder. “If you remember, I was a tomboy and mostly hung out with the FFA boys. The worst day of my life was the day Grandma Honey made me buy a bra. But if I ever did anything to hurt you—”
“Never,” Alice said. “It was nothing anyone personally did. And thanks, guys, for your support and friendship. But I really should let you know—”
Someone pounded on the door, and Maggie rushed to open it. Bubba stood there, holding a beer. He poked his head around Maggie and looked at Alice. “Anna is barking orders at everyone, and she says you’re two minutes late to the rehearsal.”
Anna ran all the wedding rehearsals of Big Verdians. Nobody knew why. But she was good at it, and it gave her all sorts of opportunities to snap at folks, so she seemed to thoroughly enjoy it.
“Oh, yikes! What’s gotten into me? I’m never late.”
She grabbed her purse and headed for the door, thinking, Happiness apparently equals tardiness.
If this was going to become a habit, she’d need to set her watch ahead by two minutes.
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Claire caught Alice on her way out of the rehearsal, which had been long, hot, and boring. They’d practiced walking down the aisle over and over and over . . .
“This way to the hayride,” Claire said, pointing to a large, noisy tractor pulling a flatbed trailer loaded with hay.
“Hayride?”
“How else would we get to the chuckwagon dinner?”
Alice immediately thought of multiple ways, but it didn’t matter. She was already being herded onto the trailer, where she sat on a hay bale next to Claire. “Miss Martin, are y’all comfortable enough?” one of the bridesmaids asked.
“Yes, thank you,” Alice said.
Claire leaned in and whispered, “You should have asked for a hemorrhoid pillow and a lap blanket. We’re clearly the senior citizens on this hayride.”
Alice snorted. “This is a little over the top, don’t you think?”
“All weddings are over the top nowadays. I can’t wait to turn this place into the Rockin’ Rio Verde. We are going to throw the best events. And guess what?”
“What?”
“Carmen is buying the restaurant! She’s going to call it the Rockin’ Bleu. It’ll be her first foray into fusing French and Western chuck and barbecue. Doesn’t that sound fun?”
Alice nodded. It really did sound fun. And it also meant Carmen would be around more!
The trailer lurched forward. “Where’s Maggie?” Alice asked.
“In the chuckwagon.”
“What is she doing in the chuckwagon?”
“Trying to blend in, I imagine.”
Alice raised an eyebrow. Maggie was good at a lot of things, but blending in with catering staff probably wasn’t one of them. “Where’s your hot date?”
“Out with another girl,” Claire said. “The last time I saw Ford, he and Rosa were sleeping in a hammock next to the shuffleboard court.”
“Aw, that’s sweet—” Her phone chimed. It was a message from Beau!
How was rehearsal?
Just the sight of the simple question set her heart to hammering in her chest. Her cheeks warmed as she read it again, lingering over each and every word, simply because Beau had typed them. Goodness, she was an idiot. This was hardly a love note, so why did it feel like she had a giggle trapped in her throat?
Claire leaned over for a peek, and Alice jerked the phone away.
“Is it from Beau?”
“He’s just asking about the rehearsal,” she said. And setting my heart on fire.
She typed out her answer. It was okay. Are you going to make the dinner?
Three little dots appeared, and Alice bit her lip while waiting for his response.
Yes. Be there as soon as I can. Might be late.
Yes! She officially had a date for this shindig. And it wasn’t just any date. It was Beau.
Her phone chimed again, and when she looked at it, she gasped. It was a picture of Beau’s fly, and it was open. He had two fingers slipped inside, and there was a gigantic bulge in his jeans.
Thinking of you.
She quickly shielded her phone from Claire’s prying eyes.
“What are you grinning about?” Claire asked.
“Nothing.”
“Oh my God!” Claire shouted. “Did you just get a dick pic?”
Everyone on the hayride became deathly quiet. And they were all looking at Alice. She assumed a prim and proper pose, and then very quietly, she said, “Yes.”
The hayride erupted in whistles and whoops of laughter.
Beau removed his work gloves and slapped them against a fence post to shake the dirt off. Then he crammed them in his back pocket. “Goddammit,” he said. “By the time I get back to the room for a shower, I’ll miss most of the rehearsal dinner.”
Bryce slapped him on the back. “I’m sure Alice will understand. You had to work.”
Beau sighed. His brother was right about both things. He absolutely did have to work, and Alice would totally understand. But he wanted to be there with her. He wanted to be there for her. As her date.
“I think you should hop on your horse and crash that dinner cowboy-style. Hell, I’ll go with you. I wasn’t invited, but Carmen will slip me a plate.”
Beau looked down at his jeans and dirty boots. “We’re dirty. We smell like cow shit.”
“Speak for yourself. I smell like a spring bouquet.”
Beau doubted that. “Well, let’s at least ride by.”
They mounted their horses and rode for about five minutes. When they came over the hill, the campfire area where they held the chuckwagon dinners was buzzing with activity. Beau’s mouth watered when the scent of grilling meat hit his nostrils. Both he and Bryce picked up the pace, and soon they were galloping toward the party.
Folks saw them coming and started waving.
A blue head—Carmen—weaved in and out, and he looked for the familiar brown ponytail that got his blood boiling, but didn’t see it.
They slowed to a trot, and then Bryce did a fancy dismount by swinging his leg over and riding sidesaddle before taking a leap. That particular trick had originally been devised to impress the ladies, but it seemed to be coming in handy on the dude ranch, because everyone cheered. And Beau had to admit that with the ridiculous fringe flying, it looked kind of cool.
He dismounted like a normal person and calmly tied his horse to the hitching post. While Bryce accepted applause and handshakes, Beau started looking for Alice.
He scanned the crowd. All he saw was blonde, blonde, redhead, blue head, bald head, wavy brown hair, black hair . . . Where the hell was Alice? His eyes flitted back to the wavy brown-haired woman, who stood alone, holding a drink, and his heart sputtered and knocked like an old Ford tractor.
Alice looked up, and their eyes met. Suddenly, the boisterous noise of the party dimmed, and Beau’s vision narrowed until Alice was the only thing he could see. He quickly headed her way, single-mindedly ignoring the folks who tried to say howdy.
He removed his hat. “Sorry I’m late—”
Alice rose on her toes and kissed him. Her lips were warm and soft and tasted like wine. When she broke the kiss, he had to reach for her hand, because the sudden disconnect made the earth tilt.
Hold on to me . . .
“You look handsome,” she said.
He grinned and shook his head as he replaced his hat. “I’m dirty and sweaty. I can go take a quick shower—”
She squeezed his hand. “Stay with me.”
“Okay.” He finally relaxed enough to get a look at her. And damn. Did she know how beautiful she was? He doubted it. “I like your hair that way.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean, I like it in a ponytail, too. Not that it matters. What I think. Because you don’t make yourself pretty to please someone else—”
“I like pleasing you,” she said. And then she bit her lip as a slight blush crept up her neck.
Beau bent his head to whisper in her ear. “You please me very much, darlin’.”
Alice’s breath hitched, and she put her hand on his chest. He thought for a moment that she might push him away, but then he felt her small hand grip his shirt, and she pulled him closer. “You please me, too.”
God. It was such a simple sentence. Four little words. But they turned his insides to mush. He searched for something to say and came up empty.
They were yanked from the eye of the storm by a booming voice. “Y’all hungry?” The barbecue sauce on Bubba’s shirt indicated he’d already eaten.
“Starving,” Alice said. “Where’s Trista?”
“Dropping the kids off in Round Rock with her sister. She’ll be here tomorrow. And you should go get some food. Carmen said I can’t have seconds until everybody’s had firsts.”
“I was just waiting for Beau.”
“Well, he’s here now,” Bubba said, looking Beau up and down. “And wearing chaps.”
“It’s required,” Beau said with a grin.
“Why don’t y’all go grab yourselves some plates and come sit with us?”
Alice touched Beau’s sleeve. “Go sit down. I’ll bring you a plate.”
Alice was offering to fix him a plate? No way. He was her date, and he was going to take care of her. “I don’t mind fixing my own plate. In fact, why don’t I get yours?”
Alice grinned. “If you insist.”
“I do.”
She did that thing again. The thing where she rose up on her toes and kissed him. Right in front of Bubba.
As Alice walked away, Beau was left grinning like an idiot. Bubba raised an eyebrow and tapped his beer bottle against Beau’s. “Good save, bruh.”
“Pardon?”
“If you let that girl fix you a plate, it’s all over.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
JD walked up. “Are you tossing that plate theory around again, Bubba?”
“It’s not a theory,” Bubba said. “If a woman fixes you a plate at a social function, she plans to marry you.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Beau said. “Alice doesn’t ever want to get married to anybody.”
Bubba shrugged. “I said what I said.”
“What are you even doing here?” JD asked Bubba. “Which one are you related to?”
“The groom is the son of Trista’s aunt’s second cousin by marriage,” Bubba said.
The ties that bound the folks of Big Verde to their ancestral trees were sometimes long and excessively thin, but they were strongly respected where weddings and funerals were concerned.
“Brittany is related to me somehow,” JD said. “My mom started to explain it, but then she got confused and told me it was a towels-only relation.”
Bubba nodded. “Yep. That’s what Trista said.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Beau asked.
“You buy them a couple of towels—”
“Or more if they’re the small ones you just wipe your hands on,” Bubba said.
“Yep,” JD said. “There’s a hierarchy. A full place setting of china is at the top—for like a first cousin if your mamas are on speaking terms.”
“A can opener is for the marriages you think won’t last or the ones you don’t approve of, like when Misty Oliver married Sam Berhman after dating his brother for three years.”
“Gabriel and I got a can opener from Miss Mills,” JD said.
Gabriel, who was wearing little Brianna in a backpack, walked up and nodded in agreement.
Beau shook his head. Luckily, his mom didn’t pay attention to all that uppity small-town social circle nonsense. She’d married a cowboy and stuck to her garden and horses. She always said she could tolerate horses a lot better than she could tolerate people.
Beau, JD, and Gabriel wandered over to the food line, where they found Carmen loading up a plate for Bryce. “Are you trying to work your way to my heart through my stomach?” Bryce asked.
“Nope,” Carmen said. “Snatching your heart would only require undoing the top button of my blouse. I sure as hell wouldn’t knock myself out with pheasant piccata.”
Bryce laughed and took his plate. “Where are you sitting, little brother?”
“With the invited guests,” Beau joked. “I think you might need to go sit behind the chuckwagon.”
“Invitation or no,” Carmen said. “Neither one of you should be anywhere near the white tablecloths.”
“They’re fine,” JD said. “Bryce, there’s plenty of room for you at our table.”
“I tell you what,” Carmen said. “I’ll let you boys sit with the civilized folks if you do me a favor.”
“What is it?” Bryce asked.
“I don’t have time to explain right now.”
“Well, I hate to agree to something without even knowing what it is.”
Carmen crossed her arms over her chef’s jacket, which was unbuttoned well past the mark that would win Bryce’s heart, and raised a single eyebrow.
“Yes, ma’am,” Bryce said.
Beau snorted. “I’m not agreeing to a damn thing.”
“It’s for Brittany,” Carmen said.
Aw hell. Beau looked at the table where Brittany sat sniffling.
“Okay, fine,” he said. “Can I have two plates? One is for Alice.”
A few minutes later he was sitting at the table, barely tasting his food—which was no doubt delicious—while his knee bumped against Alice’s, or her shoulder rubbed his, or she laughed at something somebody said, sending a waterfall of utter fucking delight washing over him.
She did not seem embarrassed at all by his dirty clothes or five o’clock shadow. In fact, at times, when she looked at him, he sensed something akin to . . . pride. Like she was both pleased and proud to be with him.
He wiped his mouth on a napkin and then brushed a strand of hair out of Alice’s face. She’d been talking about genealogy—something about the origin of the pedigree chart—and stopped to smile at him.
That smile. It seeped into his pores and filled him with a skin-tingling warmth, like that first delicious moment of wrapping yourself in a towel fresh from the dryer. The grand clock of the universe slowed down, stretching the moment, as they linked hands beneath the table.
“Ahem,” Carmen said.
When had she arrived? And why was everyone grinning at them?
“Beau Montgomery, did you hear a single word I just said?” Carmen asked.
“Nope. You must have been mumbling.”
“She needs to speak with us,” Bryce said.
“All the men at this table, please come with me,” Carmen said.
Alice looked at Beau and shrugged. “No idea what’s going on.”
Beau and the rest of the guys followed Carmen back to the chuckwagon and gathered around.
“Listen,” she said. “Nothing is going right for Brittany today.”
They all nodded. That was pretty obvious.
“And her bachelorette party is tonight.”
They all nodded again. Maybe Carmen was going to ask them to help set up tables or carry ice chests of beer.
“And her strippers canceled.”
“Aw, hell no,” Bryce said. “No way. Uh-uh.”
JD’s mouth opened as reality set in. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Nope. Four of the Mount ’Em Cowboys ate some bad barbacoa last night. So Brittany’s uncle Howard has offered to play the ukulele instead, and that is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Bryce winced. “Well, we can’t have that.”
One of Brittany’s bridesmaids came to the back door of the chuckwagon. “Do you have any more napkins? Brittany has saturated hers with tears.”
“Jesus,” Beau said, shaking his head.
Carmen handed the woman a roll of paper towels. “You tell Brittany to dry her eyes. S
he’s going to have some cowboy strippers. Isn’t she, boys?”
“I’ll do it,” Bubba said with a shrug. “No problem.”
“Me too,” Bryce said quickly. He rotated his pelvis with a wink, getting a blush and a grin out of Carmen.
“I’m in,” JD said. “Why not? I’ve got the moves.”
Carmen eyed him up and down. “Dad bods are in now, so thanks.”
Gabriel busted out laughing, and JD raised the brim of his Stetson to look his husband in the eye. He was clearly trying to maintain a stern expression, but he couldn’t swing it. He finally broke out in a grin and said, “Who’s your daddy?” and everyone cracked up.
“I’m bowing out,” Gabe said. “I’ve got to look after Brianna.”
But then it got quiet. They were all looking at Beau.
“I’ve kind of got plans for this evening . . .”
“Alice is going to be at the bachelorette party,” Carmen said. “Go take a shower. Wear your chaps—make sure these other guys get some—and meet us in the High Chaparral Party Room in an hour.”
Chapter
Thirty
Beau arranged the last two rose petals carefully on the bed and took a step back to admire the results of his labor.
A bottle of champagne chilled in the mini fridge. He’d snagged two crystal flutes from Carmen’s stash of catering goods, and they sat on the small table, surrounded by more roses and a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries. Oh! One thing was missing.
He picked up the black bag with gold letters and waded through all the pink tissue paper to extract the negligee he’d bought at Uptown Boudoir. It was as light as air and as slick and smooth as the rose petals he’d just sprinkled on their pillows. It definitely wouldn’t make Alice itch.
He draped it carefully across the end of the bed and set a single, long-stemmed rose on top of it.
If tonight was to be Alice’s first time, he was determined to make it special for her. She deserved to be worshiped, and he was, well, he was going to church.
He jumped as someone knocked on the door. “Mount up, cowboy!”
It was Bryce. They’d come back to take quick showers and get ready for the bachelorette party.
“Just a minute,” he hollered, grabbing his phone and wallet. He didn’t want to let Bryce into the room, so he planned to quickly slip out.
