His Holiday Bride

by Jillian Hart

  “No, I couldn’t.” She shook her head, making her carefully styled tendrils bounce and sway. He’d known Rori since she was a little girl barely big enough to climb onto her red gelding’s back and race through the fields with his girls. He looked at her and saw ponytails and freckles. Time ticked by, little girls grew up and the cycle of life started all over again.

  “My mom wore this on her wedding day. Her mother-in-law had given it to her, just as her mother-in-law had done before her. Since Lainie is gone, I’ll step in and carry on the tradition.” He lifted the diamond tiered necklace from its black velvet bed. “This has been in my family for four generations, and now it’s yours. Welcome to the family, Rori.”

  “Oh, it’s far too valuable.” Her eyes sparkled as the light hit the diamonds.

  He knew it was hard for any woman to turn down so many carats, so he pressed the jewelry into her hands. “I’m no good at clasps, or I would help you with it.”

  “Thank you. You know how much this means to me.”

  “I do. It’s been a long road getting here, but I promise it will be worth it. You and my boy are going to be happy.”

  “We are.” She smiled as if that was beyond all doubt. She slipped the string of gold and glitter around her neck and secured the clasp. “I’m not just getting a husband today. I’m getting a new family, people I have loved for most of my life.”

  “That’s how we feel about you, missy.”

  “That’s good to hear. There’s something else that makes this day special.” She laid her hand gently on his sleeve. “In a few more minutes, I am going to have a dad again.”

  “That you are.” He didn’t tear up often, but wasn’t ashamed to admit it was about to happen. Her parents had died when she was young. “That means a lot, girl. Now take my arm and let me escort you out of here before Doris comes back looking to take a piece out of my hide. Your grandfather is probably wondering where you are.”

  He did feel as if Rori was already family as he led her into the vestibule where Del lit up like Christmas morning at the sight of his granddaughter.

  “What a sight you are.” The elderly man blinked back a few tears. “For a moment I almost thought you were my Polly, but it couldn’t be. That was more years ago than I care to count.”

  “I count every one of them as blessings, dear.” Polly Cornell smiled at her husband. “Rori, dear, you look lovely. Addison, do you still have that camera? I want a picture with Rori.”

  “Oh, I love being the photographer!” Addy broke away from her sisters in a swirl of light green silk and began directing the bride and her grandparents about where to stand.

  He left them to their work and circled to the door. A burst of snow met him as he pounded onto the front steps.

  “Oh!” Startled, Cady Winslow jumped back on the step, her hand flying to her throat.

  One look into her big green eyes and his command of the English language flew out of his head right along with every ounce of his common sense. “Uh—” he stammered, hunting around in his brain for the right words—well, any words would do. “I didn’t see you there.”

  As if that wasn’t obvious. Way to impress the pretty lady, Granger.

  “I was in a hurry,” Cady explained, flushing a bit. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  “Me, neither.” A sorry excuse, that’s what he was, getting tongue-tied. It happened every time he was around her. Maybe it was her incredible beauty that intimidated him. She could have walked off a magazine advertisement with her carefully styled hair and flawless complexion. His face heated, betraying how uneasy he felt. “I’m rattled. My son’s getting married in a few minutes and I’m almost as nervous as when I took the plunge.”

  “I’m told a touch of anxiety is normal.”

  When she smiled, she could make the earth stop turning. He smiled back and their gazes met. A lasso looped around his heart, holding him captive. He was in big trouble. His arm shot out and opened the door for her. “Best get in out of this cold,” he advised.

  He lost his breath when she swept by. He breathed in a light scent of vanilla and snowflakes as she hesitated, half in, half out of the door.

  “Congratulations, Frank. I’ll see you at the reception.”

  Was that a tiny plea he read in those emerald-green depths? Or was it simply his wishful thinking? He’d give an arm for the right to be with a woman like her. Smart, beautiful, kind and did he mention classy? She moved like a ballerina with an unconscious grace that made the world fade all around her. She unbuttoned her coat and brightened as she greeted someone out of his sight.

  The trouble was, she didn’t brighten like that for him. When he talked with her, she was quiet and reserved and sometimes uncomfortable. He couldn’t deny that he was, too.

  “Dad?”

  Something touched his arm, startling him. He whipped around to see his youngest son looking dapper in a black tux, the white shirt setting off his bright blue eyes and white smile. It was like looking at a carbon copy of himself twenty-five years ago. Trouble hooked upward in Tucker’s grin.

  “Don’t even say it.” Frank hung his head, leading the way down the steps quickly. He’d been caught gaping at the woman red-handed. No doubt every bit of his heart had shown on his face. That’s what a man got for letting his guard down.

  “So, Justin was right.” Tucker trailed behind him, huffing to keep up. “I didn’t believe him when he told me at Thanksgiving. But it’s true, isn’t it? You’ve got a thing for the new lodge lady.”

  “I don’t have commitment issues the way you do.” The best defense was a good offense. “I’m not going to waste my time hoping the next wedding in this family is yours.”

  “You’re giving me hives, Dad. A wedding? Me?” Tucker loped along, carefree and easygoing. Nothing had ever troubled that boy too much. “I’m about as likely to settle down as you are to get married again.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to.” He opened the basement door and ducked out of the weather. He couldn’t admit that after deciding to take a step forward with Cady and ask her out, he hadn’t been able to decide for sure if that was something she would like.

  “I can’t leave the two of you alone for two seconds.” Doris marched around a corner, shaking her head at him. “Look at you. Windblown. Covered with snow. The music is starting, the bridesmaids are queued and Justin is alone.”

  “Had some business to attend to.” Frank brushed snow off the front of his jacket.

  “Don’t you go giving me excuses with that charm of yours.” Doris had had his number since grade school. “Get up there now before I take a switch to you.”

  “Doris, you wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Don’t tempt me.” She laughed like the old friend she was. “Now scoot. Off with the likes of you.”

  He found Justin at the head of the stairs, glancing out at the gathering. The sanctuary was standing room only as organ music serenaded the crowd into silence.

  “Are you ready, son?”

  “Absolutely.” His oldest boy stood straight and strong, no longer nervous. “You still have the ring?”

  “What kind of dad would I be if I didn’t?” He patted his jacket pocket, where he’d tucked his mother’s diamond-studded wedding band.

  If he caught sight of a tall, willowy woman in a navy dress squeezing into a place against the far wall, Frank ignored the pang of wishing that dug deep into his chest. As a rancher he had learned all things had a season. Maybe at fifty-three years of age all his chances had passed him by.

  “Someone wise told me something I’ll never forget.” Justin lowered his voice and leaned in, and the serious affection carved into his features made it clear he understood. “Life is a demanding trail ride. The pain and the struggle are part of the experience.”

  “It’s come to this. My son giving me advice.” Frank shook his head, rolled his eyes and wished the boy wasn’t spot on. “I don’t need advice.”

  “You need something, Da
d, and I’m going to give it to you.” Justin winked. He looked good, all grown up, a man through and through. “Sometimes you get knocked to the ground, but you’ve got to get up. You’ve got to finish the ride. Maybe the reward you find there is worth the pain and the risk. When you get it right, that’s the best life has to offer. Love is the greatest thing there is.”

  “I know that, son.” His own words repeated back to him. Not that he didn’t already know it. Love was his life. Love for his kids, love for his land and those of God’s creatures he took care of. The trouble was, he didn’t know if he was up for more rejection. He gave his son a one-armed hug. “Enough about me. Let’s get you married, boy.”

  When she was a little girl, Autumn had loved playing wedding. She and her sisters had taken turns wearing a white eyelet dress of their mom’s they’d raided from her closet, and the white net from one of her hats became a veil. She remembered stepping out of Mom’s way-too-big high-heeled shoes as they had taken turns parading down the aisle of chairs they’d lined up in the dining room.

  Even dedicated tomboys dream of being a bride one day, and in her girlhood fantasies full of white lace and roses her wedding day was a dream just like this. Surrounded by family and friends and the faces she’d known through her lifetime. The first notes of the Moonlight sonata lifted above the glee and laughter. Pale pink and butter-yellow roses were everywhere. Candles flickered on pink tapers and pastel mints adorned platters on every table. There was a giant fluffy confection of a wedding cake with a perfect bride and groom waltzing on top.

  “Remember wearing Mom’s dresses and heels?” Cheyenne sidled close. “I don’t know why I remembered that.”

  “It’s the flowers.” Addy bopped up, her eyes never leaving the lone couple in the middle of the dance area. “We used to pick roses from Gran’s garden.”

  The memories swept back of the three of them parading through the walled garden next to the house and choosing the prettiest blossoms for their bridal bouquets. All shades of pink roses and the brightest of yellow. In memory, she saw the little girls they used to be running with fists full of fragrant blooms into the kitchen, shouting for their mom to see. Those had been better times, before Mom’s unhappiness had torn their family apart. Illness had taken her away from them sixteen years ago, but her loss still hurt.

  “Mom loved weddings.” Cheyenne popped a mint into her mouth and fell silent.

  They all did. They had grown up without her. The emptiness she left behind had gradually faded except for occasions like this. Autumn knew both of her sisters were thinking how much their mother would have loved today. Justin seemed transformed in his handsome black tux. Rori, in her grandmother’s wedding gown, had never looked more beautiful as they circled slowly in the sweeping waltz, caught in each other’s arms, lost in each other’s eyes.

  Love happened, she had to remember that. Somewhere along the way she had given up on the idea that happily-ever-after could ever happen for her. There had to be some stalwart and good man in the world who could love a cowgirl just the way she was, right?

  Although looking around the room, she didn’t see one. What she saw were her failed relationships. Romances gone bad. In high school, Troy Walters had told her she ought to take up cooking and learn that her place wasn’t on the range but in the home. Andy Miller had broken up with her in ninth grade because she had run faster than he did at the Fourth of July picnic’s festivities. That was just the start of it. She recognized face after face—Tim Wisener Junior, Randy Tipple, Boze Baker—all of them had rejected her after seeing how well she could run, rope, ride or shoot.

  She didn’t want to change those things about herself. She loved the ranch, she loved working alongside her dad and her big brother. She adored spending her days with horses and cows beneath the wide open sky, freezing in winter, crisping in summer and even hunting down rustlers in a blizzard.

  But I want this, too, Lord. She could not lift her gaze from the sight of Rori. Joy that swirled around the new bride shone like light from above. Dad always said that the best thing in life was love.

  Autumn sighed, wishes uplifting her. Maybe it was the dress she wore and the heels uncomfortably squishing her toes, but she felt different today. She saw again the little girl she used to be, the girl who dreamed of her wedding day and of the prince who would love her just the way she was. The lilting music stopped, the bride and groom’s first dance together came to an end, and a man’s comforting baritone rumbled into her thoughts.

  “May I have this dance?” Ford Sherman asked and held out his hand.

  Chapter Ten

  Ford’s heart jackhammered so hard against his ribs he feared she would see it beneath his shirt and tie.

  “Dance? With you?” Autumn’s rosebud mouth softened into what he feared was amusement as she looked him up and down.

  He’d never been more aware of his height, his shortcomings or the fact that he’d worn the tie Shay had talked him into instead of the sedate blue one he’d picked out. She placed her hand in his. Awareness rolled through him like dawn across a night sky, bringing light where none had been before.

  “I suppose I could survive it.” Her breezy answer didn’t fool him.

  “Don’t worry. I don’t bite and I’ve had all my shots,” he reassured her, so she wouldn’t guess he had her figured out. There was a vulnerable cast in her golden hazel eyes and a hint of openness, as if her guard had gone down a notch.

  “Whew. That’s a relief,” she quipped.

  They shared a smile but it felt like more. The smile went deeper, past the heart and farther still. He curled his fingers around the curve of her smaller hand. Hard not to think about how right it felt there, soft as silk against his callused palm. He led her to the dance floor and pulled her into the circle of his arms.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve danced.” Her hand settled on his shoulder.

  “I don’t believe it.” He slid into the first three-step, keeping his hand firm on her back. “A woman as awesome as you must have men lining up to dance with her.”

  “Didn’t you look around?” She shook her head at him as if she found him lacking in intelligence, common sense or both. “No long line of men. You are the only one to ask me, and it’s because you don’t know any better.”

  “No, that’s not why.” He kept a respectful distance between them, but he didn’t want to. “I know exactly what I was doing. Facing rejection again. Except this time you said yes. Why?”

  “That’s one secret I refuse to reveal.” She flushed a bit, pink staining her face in the most attractive of ways. Candy-sweet, that was Autumn Granger. He’d thought her magnificent on the back of a horse, but in her elegant dress and with her hair pulled up into an artful knot at the back of her head, she looked like a storybook princess come to life—one too beautiful to be real—and she was in his arms.

  “Was it because everyone was watching?” he asked.

  “Hardly. I felt pity for you, Ford. Nothing but pity. No other woman would apparently have you, so I thought I would be a Good Samaritan. Do my good deed for the day.”

  “Decent of you.”

  “Well, it’s my faith.”

  She so wasn’t fooling him. Not a bit. He could see right through her motives to the sweetness beneath. It had taken a while to get her defenses to go down a little, and he had to wonder what had made her put them up so high in the first place.

  “There’s a flaw in your logic.” He kept his voice low and intimate, moving in a little closer to whisper in her ear. “Your pity isn’t necessary. I didn’t ask any other woman to dance. Only you.”

  “Then I’m here under false pretenses.” She didn’t move away. Her hand on his shoulder felt a tad heavier, as if she were holding on instead of preparing to shove him away.

  “Not false. I asked you because you are the only gal I know in these parts.” He shuffled, trying to hide the fact that he wasn’t a good dancer. “It isn’t easy to be new in town.”

  �
��Please, you’re hardly the shy, retiring type.” She shuffled right along with him. Apparently, she wasn’t the best dancer, either. “Besides, single and available men are a small group in Wild Horse. Any single woman here would be happy to dance with you.”

  “That’s what I’m scared of. Those women looking me over. I’d rather be safe with you.”

  “Only because I left my .45 at home.” She saw right through Mr. Suave. “I told you I don’t date, and I mean it.”

  “I’m not talking about a date.” He was a smart one trying to argue his point on a technicality. “It’s a waltz, and you said it yourself. You’re a Good Samaritan.”

  “Usually helping others isn’t a decision I regret later.”

  “What is there to regret?” There should be a law against those dimples, and he used them dangerously. “I haven’t stepped on your toes. I haven’t steered you into a wall.”

  “Haven’t you noticed I’ve been leading?”

  “That explains why we’re all the way over by the band.” He didn’t seem the slightest bit annoyed that she had taken charge. Only proof something was wrong with the man. Every other male who had asked her to dance at any time in her life had a big issue with her tendency to take charge. He merely smiled wider, as if he were fully aware of how those fine lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled handsomely. “Not many people can see us here. Good decision.”

  “What does that mean?” She really was not going to like this guy. She would keep her walls up, her defenses in place and never forget he was a smooth-talking outsider who would leave when the going got tough.

  Correction. He would leave her long before that, when he realized this was who she really was. She was a cowgirl in a pretty dress. No fairy-tale wishes were going to change that one unalterable truth.

  “Romantic.” Ford waggled his brows. “Are you trying to tell me something, Autumn?”

  “I sure am.” Really. The man was shameless. She pressed the side of her foot against his, keeping him from steering them toward the crowd. “I don’t want to be seen front and center dancing with the likes of you.”