Cole nodded toward the building’s entrance. “I was just caught off guard by all the froufrou decorations in that war zone they call an office.”
“War zone?” his brother repeated, his brow arched. “Froufrou?”
“It looked like someone crashed a Humvee full of roses into a lace factory. I mean, how many pictures of fancy white dresses and champagne glasses do they need in that place? It’s like a single man’s kryptonite inside of there, sucking out all masculine logic and rationale. You’re lucky I was able to break you out when I did.”
“I can’t disagree with you on that, although I was surprised you were able to notice anything else in the room besides Vivienne.” Zach grinned, then held up a hand when Cole began to argue. “As much as I’d love to stand out here in the parking lot and listen to you try to deny it, I need to go back inside, since I promised Lydia I wouldn’t make her do all of this wedding planning alone.”
“Fine. I’ll take your truck over to the gas station up the street and fill the tires while you finish.” Cole held out his palm and waited for Zach to toss him the keys.
“Thanks, man.”
A few seconds later, Cole yelled across the parking lot to his brother’s retreating back. “I’ll leave them under the floor mat when I’m done.”
Because he sure as hell wasn’t going back inside that bridal shop and dealing with his unexpected attraction to some fancy—but totally unnecessary—wedding planner. Cole shook his head as he hopped into the cab of Zach’s truck and started the engine. Some sappy love song blasted out of the speakers and his finger dived toward the radio to switch off the country music station.
Yet he couldn’t get the image of the blonde woman out of his mind. Her hair had been pulled back into some kind of loose ponytail, but he could tell it was long and wavy and soft. Her white button-up shirt was all business, and even her navy blue pin-striped skirt was relatively professional, except for the fact that when she’d stood up to greet him, she’d had to tug the hem down. But not before he’d caught a glimpse of a dark brown freckle on the inside of her thigh.
Her lips were soft and pink and her eyes were a fascinating shade of green. She was on the taller side, maybe five-nine. He hadn’t seen if she was wearing high heels or not, but cool and classy ladies like that usually wore fancy, useless shoes. However, all of those details were slow to register with him because when he’d been shaking her hand, Cole hadn’t been able to think of anything but that sexy little freckle.
He turned into the gas station and pulled the truck up to the air hose before squeezing his eyes shut and trying to clear his head. It wasn’t like Vivienne Shuster was the first good-looking woman Cole had ever met. He’d been in the Marines, stationed all over the United States, as well as a few bases overseas, and had always known where he could find a date on the few times he’d gone looking for a fun time.
So then why had his muscles gone all soft and his brain turned to mush when he’d met her?
Unlike his brother Zach, who’d actually placed an ad in the newspaper looking for a wife, relationships weren’t exactly on Cole’s radar at this juncture. Hell, they weren’t even in his atmosphere.
Sure, once upon a time, he’d pictured himself moving back to Montana eventually and settling down with a wife and possibly having some kids of his own. But ever since his mom passed away, Cole had realized there were no absolutes in life. There was no point in planning that far into the future. Right now, his dad needed him. The property they’d been interested in buying fell through and, while they weren’t exactly wearing out their welcome at the Circle D with his aunt and uncle, they still had to help their dad find a new ranch and get it running. Phil Dalton deserved to have a working place of his own, a place he could share with his sons. Yet Cole also owed it to his family to keep things as normal as possible, to prevent them from realizing how much responsibility he was shouldering.
So, yeah, he let his relatives think that he was in the market for the occasional date. He’d even gone out with a few women back when his cousin was filming that reality TV show in town. But Cole was always sure to flirt only with the ladies who didn’t take him seriously. He certainly didn’t react to them the way he’d responded to Vivienne.
But that was just a one-off. Surrounded by all that happily-ever-after propaganda and poster-sized images of wedded bliss back in her office—even for the few minutes he was exposed to it—who wouldn’t have gotten overwhelmed and panicked? He’d been all fired up when he’d walked into her bridal shop, his worry and annoyance with Zach having snowballed during the twenty-minute drive there from Rust Creek Falls. Then, when he got inside, he was so out of his comfort zone he’d felt like one of those green plastic army toys thrown into a frilly, decked-out dollhouse. He’d had to do a complete one-eighty and rein himself in.
Cursing under his breath at his ridiculous reaction to the whole situation, Cole made quick work of the tires, using a pressure gauge he’d brought along with him to ensure that he didn’t overinflate them. The sooner he returned the truck to the parking lot, the sooner he could get back to his aunt and uncle’s ranch and let some much-needed manual labor push these fanciful notions from his mind.
Unfortunately, when he pulled into the parking lot of the tiny strip mall that housed Estelle’s Events, his brother and Lydia were standing outside waiting for him.
Along with the wedding planner.
When Cole exited the truck, his eyes had a mind of their own and kept returning to that spot on Vivienne’s skirt, hoping for another glimpse of her hidden freckle.
Since he couldn’t very well pitch his brother’s keys over the hood and beat a hasty retreat to his own truck, he was stuck with having to walk over to the trio. The smug grin on Zach’s face reminded Cole of the time he’d lost a hay-bale-stacking race with his younger brother and had to volunteer to be on the prom committee at their small, rural high school. Although, the joke ended up being on Zach when Rondalee Franks—a senior on the cheerleading team who’d been in charge of decorating the gymnasium—asked Cole, a mere sophomore, to be her date. It wasn’t his fault that the ladies loved a man who was always willing to help out.
The professional wedding planner, whose back was ramrod straight despite the uncomfortable-looking four-inch-high heels on her feet, had a death grip on a thick three-ring binder and didn’t appear to be the type who needed assistance from anyone, let alone a former Marine-turned-rancher like him.
Cole knew that he should offer to shake Vivienne’s hand goodbye, if only to prove to his brother—and himself—that his initial physical response to her was nothing out of the ordinary. Instead, he came only close enough to toss the keys to Zach. When a late-model purple Cadillac sedan pulled into the parking lot, he tipped his hat and simply said, “Ma’am.”
Then he climbed into his own truck and refused to look back.
Chapter Two
Vivienne’s skin was still tingling from the sound of Cole Dalton’s sexy drawl as she waved off Zach and Lydia before her boss got out of her car. Luckily, Estelle was still on the phone with one of their flower vendors when their newest clients drove away, saving Vivienne from an awkward introduction. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to save them—or anyone else within a block radius—from hearing exactly what Estelle thought of having centerpieces set in burlap-covered mason jars, because the Cadillac’s speaker volume was always set to Ridiculous.
Behind the windshield, Estelle’s red acrylic fingernail jabbed toward Vivienne, the gesture clearly telling her that her boss wanted her to wait right where she was. After several minutes of threats to never refer another bride to them again, Estelle finally disconnected the call and exited the boatlike sedan like a ninety-pound bleached-blonde tornado, ready to blow through anything that stood in her way.
“Who was that leaving?” Estelle asked, not bothering to take off the giant tortoiseshell-framed sunglasses that hid
more than half of her face, as well as the healing scars from her most recent visit to the plastic surgeon.
“Those are our new clients,” Vivienne replied, her shoulders straighter than they had been for the past three months, when Estelle had first started pressuring her to bring in more bookings.
“Gah. More cowboy weddings,” Estelle complained, before lighting up a cigarette. “I hope you told them that flannel isn’t a bridesmaid dress option. We can’t have people thinking we’re running a rodeo over here.”
“They’re from Rust Creek Falls,” Vivienne explained, waiting for the significance to sink in. Surely, the woman would be impressed now that their company was officially branching out into the small town that was becoming well-known for so many recent marriages.
“You got the full deposit from them, right?” The woman was happy only when money was exchanged. At Vivienne’s nod, Estelle continued. “Good. Who was the other cowpoke with them?”
Despite the older woman’s insulting tone, Vivienne’s tummy did a somersault at the mention of Cole. “That’s one of the groom’s four brothers.”
“Four?” Estelle pushed the supersize sunglasses on top of her teased platinum curls. Even the heavy mascara loaded onto her fake lashes couldn’t conceal the gleam in her eye. “Are they all single?”
Vivienne flashed back to an earlier glimpse she’d had of Cole’s strong, tanned fingers and reminded herself that the lack of a wedding ring didn’t mean he wasn’t in a serious relationship. “You know, I didn’t think to ask.”
“Well, find out if they are,” Estelle told her, before reaching into the back seat. “Girl, in this business, you always need to be thinking one step ahead. If the other three are as good-looking as those two, there are bound to be some more weddings in the works. And I want you to book them.”
A feeling of incompetence raced through her. They’d been having a similar conversation for the past year. She knew she was supposed to be bringing in more business, but there was something icky about force selling happily-ever-after. Vivienne was of the opinion that her work should speak for itself and happy couples would be more likely to refer their family and friends her way. But before she could argue as much, Estelle passed her a small plastic cage holding a shivering black-and-white guinea pig.
Their company had done weddings with everything from songbirds to butterfly releases to dogs as flower girls. But they’d never done one with rodents. Vivienne crinkled her nose. “What’s this for?”
“When I went in for my post-op last week, the doctor told me my blood pressure has been through the roof lately. But with my high cholesterol and thyroid problems, I’m on so much stinkin’ medication right now, the last thing I want to do is shove more pills down my throat. Apparently, there’ve been recent studies about pets helping to ease people’s stress levels, so I thought I’d give it a try.” Estelle used the remainder of her cigarette to light up a new one before crushing the butt under her size-four stiletto. Cutting back a pack a day and not constantly yelling at wedding vendors would probably be more beneficial, but Vivienne knew better than to suggest as much. “Since I’m allergic to cats and I can’t stand the stench of dogs, my only choices at the pet shop were this little guy or a turtle. And I don’t do moldy tanks.”
Vivienne held the cage up to eye level and peered inside. There was something achingly familiar about the startled fear reflected in the poor animal’s eyes. “So why did you bring him to the office?”
“The stupid thing is defective. It was up all night long making this weird wheezing sound.” Estelle grabbed two binders off her back seat and hooked her trademark purple tote bag over her bony shoulder. The ash from her cigarette was almost an inch long and hanging on precariously as she headed toward the office door. “I need you to take him back to the pet store. Maybe you can get me the turtle instead.”
Vivienne was pretty sure the guinea pig wasn’t defective; it was just overwhelmed. After all, Estelle’s nose and lungs had had decades to build up a tolerance to her heavy-handed application of dime-store perfume and her chain-smoking. Usually, Estelle never smoked in front of clients, but since those had been scarcer lately, her boss was lighting up at an alarming rate.
Vivienne remained outside in the parking lot, setting the cheap plastic cage on the hood of Estelle’s car. She wanted to unlatch the metal door, but she was afraid the thing would run away.
“What am I going to do with you?” she asked. The guinea pig twitched its nose in response, the whiskers on either side of its face quivering.
Vivienne wasn’t much of an animal person. Growing up, she’d had only one pet, and that had been short-lived. When her parents divorced the first time, not only had they fought for custody of Vivienne, they’d also fought for custody of Filmore, a fluffy Pomeranian who didn’t understand the concept of every-other-week visitation. Vivienne was at school one day when Filmore snuck out of her dad’s sparsely furnished apartment and tried to make his way back to the house he was used to—the split-level home her mom got in the divorce. He never made it.
Her mother accused her father of giving the dog to one of his girlfriends, and her father accused her mother of leaving a trail of bacon the entire two miles between his apartment and her house. At first, Vivienne was heartbroken over her lost pet, but a week later, she was getting off the school bus a block away from her mom’s place and saw Filmore in the window of the Petersons’ house. She knew the Peterson girls from school. They were younger, and their parents never screamed at each other on the front lawn like hers did. So Vivienne decided not to say anything, because at least Filmore would get to live with a happy family even if she couldn’t. Every once in a while, she would go over to their house and pretend she was interested in having make-believe tea parties and playing with their babyish pink palace dream house just so that she could visit her dog.
When her mom and dad eventually got back together, Vivienne asked if they could go over to the Petersons’ and get Filmore. However, her parents were so caught up in each other and making up for lost time that they didn’t want the burden of a pet again.
Vivienne bit her lower lip as she studied the helpless guinea pig. Maybe she should take him back to her apartment for now. She should also call the pet store and tell them that under no circumstances were they to sell that poor turtle to Estelle. But, first, she had a wedding to put together. Balancing her binder in one arm, she carried the cage into the office.
The peanut M&M’s were long gone, so she broke off a piece of the granola bar she’d thrown in her purse this morning when she realized she wouldn’t have time for breakfast, then pushed it through one of the slots toward her new friend. The guinea pig cautiously moved forward and sniffed the food before using its tiny paws to shove the whole thing into its cheek. Then Vivienne settled into her chair and got to work.
She opened the binder to see that a photo had gotten stuck inside one of the divider pockets. And not just any photo. The photo. All five of the Dalton brothers were handsome. And after hearing about the tragedy of losing their mother, Vivienne was fascinated to find out more about them. She told herself she was interested in learning all their stories, but it was really Cole she stared at, Cole’s story she wanted to hear.
Something inside of her ached. Maybe it was all the romance novels and bridal magazines pulling at her heartstrings. She’d read her fair share of both, and every once in a while she could forget about the bridezillas and the uninterested grooms and the wedding marketing ploys and wonder if there was such a thing as love at first sight.
Not for her, of course. Having witnessed the whirlwind of her parents’ marriage, Vivienne was smart enough to want to get to know her future husband for at least a few years before she decided if they were compatible.
She was also smart enough not to get all worked up by a pair of well-worn jeans and a sexy smirk and a honeyed voice calling her ma’am.
* * *
A week later at the Circle D, Cole was in one of the corrals exercising his uncle’s injured horse when a Jetta zipped down the driveway toward the ranch house. As the car approached, he recognized Vivienne behind the wheel and his pulse sped up. Paying attention to the driver instead of where he was going, Cole kept walking straight as the horse rounded the turn. Zorro’s front hoof grazed the side of his boot, causing them both to stumble.
“Easy, boy,” he said more to himself than to the stallion.
She was wearing some sort of silky floral dress that wrapped around her curves like a second skin, and her high heels had no business navigating the dirt driveway, which was still fairly muddy after a recent spring rain. Balancing that big binder on her hip, Vivienne used her free hand to carry a tall vase. A strong wind caused the side of her dress to flip open and his lungs froze as he was treated to a full view of her shapely thighs. When she tried to pull her dress back into place, she dropped the binder, its contents spilling out everywhere.
Quickly, Cole secured the lead rope to the mechanical arm of the hot-walker, then hopped over the fence, mentally kicking himself for initially staring at her like a lovesick calf instead of immediately rushing to her aid. On his way, he picked up scattered papers and pictures of cakes and flowers. The dainty images and carefully handwritten lists made his work-roughened hands look big and coarse, and he quickly shoved the stack at her.
“Thank you,” she said, not noticing that the notebook she’d just pulled to her chest was covered with mud. “I’m supposed to meet Zach and Lydia here at the ranch and then drive over to check out Maverick Manor as an option for a wedding venue. But I’m running a little early.”
The Maverick's Bridal Bargain Page 2
