The Trouble With Cowboys

by Denise Hunter

  She wasn’t fooled by his woebegone expression. “Not enough, huh?”

  “Not nearly enough. Not enough time. Not enough kisses. Not enough . . . Annie. See my problem?”

  Annie’s lips twitched. “I think I do.”

  “So I was wondering if I should, you know. . .” He paused, a vulnerable look sneaking into his eyes. “Ask her to marry me.”

  Joy flooded through her, lifting her lips.

  “I mean,” he continued, a flush filling his cheeks, “I know she’s the one for me, and I think she feels the same way, but sometimes a guy can feel vulnerable about putting himself out there. Plus her sister just left town, so she’s kind of distracted and a little blue. It’s a big commitment—one I’m not the least afraid to make, but I’m not sure how she might—”

  “Hush.”

  His brows lifted. “Beg pardon?”

  Annie looked deeply into his eyes. “Dear Annie thinks you should ask her—with all due haste.”

  “All due haste?”

  Annie nodded slowly, not even fighting the smile.

  Without breaking eye contact Dylan dropped to his knee, pulling off his hat in the same motion.

  The look in his eyes made her breath catch. Her heart flopped over in her chest. She covered it with her hand.

  “Annie Wilkerson,” he said softly, “I love you more than I can say, and nothing would make me happier than a lifetime filled with you. Your smile, your hugs, your laughter . . . Will you marry me?”

  Annie’s eyes filled again. Happy tears. She nodded. “I will.”

  He stood slowly, pulling her into his arms where she felt safe and loved. “I do love you, sweet Annie,” he whispered before kissing her again.

  She gave herself over to the kiss as happiness bloomed inside her. When he pulled her closer, that familiar spark ignited in her midsection and spread through her veins, making her limbs go weak.

  Sometimes a girl needed a little spark in her life. And Annie knew that, even after a lifetime together, no matter how many kisses they exchanged or how much laughter they shared, she would never get enough of him—that was the trouble with cowboys.

  Dear friend,

  I knew from the moment Dylan galloped onto the page in A Cowboy’s Touch that he had a story to tell. I only had to find the right woman for him. Then Annie appeared on the page, and I knew Dylan had met his match.

  Annie’s struggle to let go of Sierra was very real to me. As I was writing the story, I was getting ready to let my first chick out of the nest. Working through this issue with Annie helped me to leave our oldest son in God’s hands as he went off to college. I hope walking with Annie on her spiritual journey helped you along on yours too.

  I can hardly believe the Big Sky series is over; it went so fast! I hope your visit to Moose Creek was as enjoyable as mine. Thank you for coming along and for making the ride worthwhile. I value each of you so much!

  In His grace,

  Denise

  Reading Group Guide

  1. Which character did you most relate to and why?

  2. Annie and Sierra shared the same childhood experiences, yet they viewed love differently. Why do you think that is? Have you experienced anything similar with your siblings?

  3. How did Dylan’s past experience with love affect his ability to love again?

  4. Sometimes Annie tried to manipulate Sierra into attending church. Why do you think such tactics are usually ineffective, despite the best of intentions?

  5. If you’ve read Pride and Prejudice, how is Annie similar to Elizabeth Bennet? How is she different?

  6. In what ways was Braveheart symbolic in the story?

  7. Annie’s childhood caused her to develop a prejudice toward cowboys. Have you ever clung to a false belief? How did you discover it was false, and what did you do to overcome it?

  8. Miss Lucy confronted Annie about her prejudice toward cowboys. What does the Bible say about confronting each other? Do you think Miss Lucy handled it well? Should she have confronted Annie sooner?

  9. Sierra accused Annie of judging her early in the story. Where is the line between judging and confronting in love?

  10. Annie struggled to let go of Sierra and let her sister lead her own life. What do you need to let go of? What are some steps you can take to leave it in God’s hands?

  Hear “Smitten,” the song Annie

  and Dylan danced to, at

  www.SmittenVermont.com

  If your book club of 15 or more would like to read this book, Denise would be happy to schedule a call-in to answer any questions your group may have.Contact her at denise@denisehunterbooks.com.

  Acknowledgments

  Writing a book is a team effort, and I’m so grateful for the entire team at Thomas Nelson Fiction, led by Publisher Allen Arnold: Katie Bond, Amanda Bostic, Ruthie Dean, Natalie Hanemann, Jodi Hughes, Ami McConnell, Becky Monds, Eric Mullet, Ashley Schneider, and Kristen Vasgaard.

  Thanks especially to my editor, Natalie Hanemann, who helped shape this story, notified me of gaping holes, and otherwise helped me fashion this into a more enjoyable read. I’m forever grateful to the talented LB Norton, whose eye for detail has saved me from countless mistakes!

  Author Colleen Coble is my first reader. Thank you, friend! She, along with friends and authors Diann Hunt and Kristin Billerbeck, is a great help at the brainstorming stage of every story. Love you, girls!

  I’m grateful to my agent, Karen Solem, who handles all the left-brained matters so I can focus on the right-brained stuff.

  To Billy and Marci Whitehurst, who opened their Montana home and ranch for a city girl and her husband. Thanks for taking the time to show me the cowboy way of life.

  A research trip to Montana would’ve been impossible without my sister-in-law Gina Sinclair, brother-in-law Mark Sinclair, and niece Mindy Sinclair. Thanks so much for coming to take over our daily lives for a few days so Kevin and I could gallivant all over Big Sky Country. We’re so grateful to call you family.

  Thanks to my Facebook friends at Denise Hunter Readers Circle who helped me title this book, name the town of Moose Creek, and name the series itself. Thanks for all your input!

  To my family, Kevin, Justin, Chad, and Trevor. I love each one of you so much! Thanks for putting up with me!

  Lastly, thank you, friend, for letting me share this story with you. I wouldn’t be doing this without you! I’ve enjoyed connecting with readers like you through my Facebook group. Visit my website at www.DeniseHunterBooks.com or just drop me a note at Denise@DeniseHunterBooks.com. I’d love to hear from you!

  An excerpt from The Convenient Groom

  The red light on Kate Lawrence’s cell phone blinked a staccato warning. But before she could retrieve the message, her maid of honor, Anna Doherty, waved her pale arms from the beach, stealing her attention.

  Anna’s smooth voice sounded in her headset. “Kate, can you come here? We’ve got a few glitches.”

  “Be right there.” Kate tucked her clipboard in the crook of her elbow, took the steps down Jetty Pavilion’s porch, and crossed the heel-sinking sand of the Nantucket shoreline. In six hours, thirty-four guests would be seated there in the rows of white chairs, watching Kate pledge her life to Bryan Montgomery under a beautiful hand-carved gazebo.

  Where was the gazebo anyway? She checked her watch, then glanced toward the Pavilion, where workers scurried in white uniforms. No sign of Lucas.

  She approached Anna, who wore worry lines as naturally as she wore her Anne Klein pantsuit. Anna was the best receptionist Kate could ask for. Her capable presence reassured the troubled couples she ushered through Kate’s office.

  Right now, Anna’s long brown hair whipped across her face like a flag gone awry, and she batted it from her eyes with her freckled hand. “Soiree’s just called. Their delivery truck is in for service, and the flowers will be a little late. Half an hour at the most.”

  Kate jotted the note on her schedule. “That’s okay.” She’d factored in
cushion time.

  “Murray’s called, and the tuxes haven’t been picked up except for your dad’s.”

  Bryan and his best man had been due at Murray’s at nine thirty. An hour ago. “I’ll check on that. What else?”

  Anna’s frown lines deepened, and her eyes blinked against the wind. “The carriage driver is sick, but they’re trying to find a replacement. The Weatherbys called and asked if they could attend last minute—they were supposed to go out of town, but their plans changed.”

  Kate nodded. “Fine, fine. Call and tell her they’re welcome. I’ll notify the caterer.”

  “Your publicist—Pam?—has been trying to reach you. Did you check your cell? She said she got voice mail. Anyway, your book copies did arrive this morning. She dropped this off.” Anna pulled a hardback book from under her clipboard. “Ta-da!”

  “My book!” Kate stared at the cover, where the title, Finding Mr. Right-for-You, floated above a cartoon couple. The man was on his knee, proposing. Below them, a colorful box housed the bold letters of Kate’s name. She ran her fingers over the glossy book jacket, feeling the raised bumps of the letters, savoring the moment.

  “Pam wants a quick photo shoot before the guests arrive. You holding the book, that kind of thing. You should probably call her.”

  Kate jotted the note. While it was on her mind, she reached down and turned on her cell.

  “Ready for more great news?” Anna asked. Her blue eyes glittered like diamonds. The news had to be good.

  “What?”

  “The New York Times is sending a reporter and a photographer. They want to do a feature story on your wedding and your book.”

  Fresh air caught and held in Kate’s lungs. Rosewood Press was probably turning cartwheels. “That’s fabulous. They’ll want an interview.” She scanned her schedule, looking for an open slot. After the reception? She hated to do it, but Bryan would understand. The New York Times. It would give Kate’s initial sales the boost they needed. Maybe enough to make the bestseller list.

  “Here’s the number.” Anna handed her a yellow Post-It. “That tabloid guy has been hanging around all morning, trying to figure out who the groom is. I told him he’d find out in six hours like everyone else. The rest of the media is scheduled to arrive an hour before the wedding, and Pam’s having an area set up over there for them.” Anna gestured behind the rows of chairs to a square blocked off with white ribbon.

  “Good. I want them to be as inconspicuous as possible. This is my wedding, and a girl only gets married once, after all.”

  “One would hope,” Anna said. “Is there anything else I can do?”

  Kate gave her a sideways hug, as close to an embrace as she’d ever given her assistant, her fingers pressing into Anna’s fleshy shoulder. “You’re a godsend. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Oh! I know what I forgot to tell you. The gazebo. It should have been here by now. I tried to call Lucas, but I got the machine, and I don’t have his cell number.”

  “His shop’s closed today, and he doesn’t have a cell.” The man didn’t wear a watch, much less carry a phone. She should’ve known better than to put something this crucial in his hands. Kate checked her watch. “I’ll run over and check on it.”

  The drive to town was quick and effortless, but Kate’s mind swam with a hundred details. She jotted reminders on her clipboard when she stopped for pedestrians, occasionally admiring the cover of her book.

  She couldn’t believe what a wonderful day it was. She had a book coming out, she was about to walk down the aisle, and the weather couldn’t be more perfect. Thank You, God, for the beautiful day, for the man I’m about to marry, for the book deal. Eveything was in perfect order.

  She called Pam for a quick recap about the New York Times reporter, and by the time she hung up, she was pulling into a parallel slot on Main Street, in front of Lucas’s storefront.

  The sign above the picture window read “Cottage House Furniture.” On the second floor of the Shaker building, the wooden shingle for her own business dangled from a metal pole: “Kate Lawrence, Marriage Counseling Services.” She needed to remind Lucas to remove it; otherwise he’d leave it hanging for another year or until someone else rented the space.

  Kate exited her car and slid her key into the rusty lock of the shop’s door. Once inside, she passed the stairs leading to her office and walked through the darkened maze of furniture to the back, where she hoped to find Lucas. She bumped an end table with her shin. Ow! That would leave a mark.

  The high-pitched buzz of a power tool pierced the darkness, a good sign. “Lucas?” She rapped loudly on the metal door with her knuckles. The noise stopped.

  “Come in.”

  She opened the door. Lucas Wright looked up from his spot on the cement floor at the base of the gazebo, his too-long hair hanging over one eye. He looked her over, then turned back to the spindle and ran his thick hand over it as if testing the curves.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be at the beach?” he asked.

  Kate crossed her arms. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  He stood, agile for his size, and backed away from the gazebo. Sawdust from the floor clung to his faded jeans and black T-shirt. “I was just finishing.”

  “You were supposed to be there an hour ago. The gazebo needs to be put in place before the sound system, and the florist has to decorate it, and there are people waiting to do their jobs.”

  He faced her, looking into her in that way of his that made her feel like he could see clean through her. “Today’s the big day, huh?” Putting his tool on his workhorse, he dusted off his hands, moving in slow motion as though he’d decided tonight wouldn’t arrive until next week.

  Kate checked her watch. “Do you think you can get this down to the beach sometime today?”

  Walking around the piece, he studied it, hands on his hips, head cocked. “You like it?”

  For the first time since the week before, Kate looked at the gazebo—the white lattice top, the hand-carved spindles, the gentle arch of the entry. At the top of the arch, a piece of wood curved gracefully, etched with clusters of daisies. The gazebo’s simple lines were characteristic of Lucas’s work, but she’d never known him to use such exquisite detail. The piece had an elegance that surpassed her expectations. He did beautiful work; she’d give him that.

  “I do. I love the etching.” She sighed. Just when he irritated the snot out of her, he did something like this, caught her off guard. She always felt like she was tripping down the stairs when she was with him.

  Focus! “It needs to find its way to the beach. Pronto.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His salute was unhurried.

  Before she could offer a retort, her cell phone pealed and buzzed simultaneously, and she pulled it from her capri pocket.

  “Hello?”

  “Kate?”

  “Bryan.” Turning away from Lucas and toward the door, she eyed a crude desk with a metal folding chair that bore countless rusty scratches. “Good morning.” A smile crept into her voice. It was their wedding day. The day they’d planned for nearly two years. “Did you sleep well?” She hadn’t. She’d rumpled the sheets until nearly two o’clock, but that was to be expected.

  The silence on the other end, however, was not. “Bryan?” Had she lost the signal?

  “Um, Kate, did you get my message?”

  There’d been a blinking red light this morning. She’d assumed it was Pam’s voice mail and hadn’t checked. Suddenly, she wished she had.

  “No. What’s wrong?”

  “Are you sitting down?”

  “No, I’m not sitting down. Just tell me.” An ugly dread snaked down her spine and settled there, coiled and waiting.

  “I’m on my way back to Boston,” he said. “I left a message this morning. You must’ve had your phone off.”

  Kate’s stomach stirred. She stared at the wall in front of her—a pegboard with a zillion holes, metal prongs poking from it, tools and cord
s everywhere. “What happened?” Some emergency, maybe?

  What emergency could trump our wedding?

  “I can’t marry you, Kate.”

  The words dropped, each one crumbling under its own weight. The stirring in her stomach intensified. “That’s not funny, Bryan.” It was a terrible joke. He’d never been good with jokes. His punch lines left you leaning forward, waiting for the rest.

  “I’m in love with someone else.”

  Pain. A huge wooden spoon, tossing the contents of her stomach. Her legs wobbled, trembling on the wedge heels of her sandals, and she clutched the cold metal of the folding chair. “What?” Was that her voice, weak and thready? Someone had vacuumed all the moisture from her mouth, sucked the air from her lungs.

  “I’m so sorry,” Bryan was saying. “I know this is awful. You don’t deserve this, but I can’t marry you. It happened slowly, and I didn’t realize what was going on until recently. I tried to put it out of my mind, but I just can’t. And I can’t marry you knowing how I feel. I’m so sorry, Kate.”

  “What?” It was the only word her mind could form at the moment.

  “I know there’s no excuse. I should have told you before now, but I thought it would go away. I thought I was just having cold feet or something, but it’s more than that.”

  “We’ve been together for two years, Bryan.”

  It was a stupid thing to say, but it was all she could think of. Memories played across the screen of her mind in fast-forward. The day they’d met in line at Starbucks in downtown Boston when Kate had gone there for a conference. Their first date at the Colonial Theatre. The long-distance courting and weekend visits. The e-mails, the phone calls, the engagement, the book. It all whizzed by, coming to a screeching halt here, at this moment. Here, in Lucas’s dusty workshop. Here, in front of the special gazebo they were to be married in.

  “I’ve already called my family and told them. I know there’s a lot to do, and I’ll help any way you want me to. And then there’s your book . . . I’m so sorry.”