Harlequin Heartwarming December 2020 Box Set
Page 2
No. Her strategy was foolproof.
She had briefed Colin on every contingency. He’d reluctantly memorized the Harrison family spreadsheet she’d created. She’d scripted a schematic chart, specifying the body language and interaction between a couple at their supposed stage in their relationship. Then, last week, they’d spent every lunch hour at a café, where she’d picked up the tab, and they’d rehearsed the big London reveal.
She glanced at her phone. Colin hadn’t answered her texts. Or returned her phone call. Grilling him about her family over takeout in the lab last night might have been overkill.
Maybe. But it’d also been necessary. Georgie never left anything to chance.
She rushed on, stomping on her worry. Colin was a rule follower. He was probably already seated in row 12, seat B, his seat belt buckled, and his cell phone stashed inside his carry-on, which was secured safely in the overhead compartment.
Georgie boarded the plane last and alone. Her gaze skipped to row 12 and the empty middle seat. Unease skimmed along the back of her neck. A cowboy sat in the window seat of row 12, his worn hat pulled down low. Where was Colin?
Georgie dropped into the aisle seat, slid her laptop bag under the seat in front of her and set her purse on the empty one between herself and the cowboy. She craned her neck to see if Colin had chosen an aisle or window seat elsewhere. He’d probably already guessed she intended to fill the flight with pop quizzes and color-coded family flash cards.
The cowboy next to the window shifted, making her wonder how he’d wedged into the row. His legs were splayed, his right knee edged in front of the middle seat. His elbows rested on both armrests, spread wide, as if he wanted to claim as much space as possible.
The scratch of the intercom disrupted Georgie, pulling her thoughts away from the cowboy. The pilot cheerfully introduced himself and requested that the cabin be prepared for takeoff.
Georgie stopped the nearest flight attendant. “Can you wait to shut the door? I just need to text my companion. He’s not here. I’m sure he’s coming. It’ll only take a minute.”
“All mobile devices and laptops must be turned off and stowed for takeoff.” The flight attendant’s smile tightened into an implacable don’t-mess-with-me-on-my-last-flight-of-the-day expression while she coolly waited for compliance.
“Right.” Georgie powered off her phone and flipped the blank screen toward the flight attendant. How would Colin get in touch with her now?
The woman patted Georgie’s shoulder, her voice thawing. “Maybe your friend got an earlier flight.”
“There are no earlier flights to Bozeman.” Georgie knew. She’d booked their trip. Colin wasn’t here. Colin wasn’t going to Montana. “And there are no direct flights to Falcon Creek.”
Panic cinched around her, tighter than the seat belt. Now she’d arrive in Falcon Creek and get dropped into the petri dish of family without a buffer to convince her family to give her their London blessings. Her strategy had been solid. Foolproof.
Georgie loosened the belt across her lap. She hadn’t panicked when she’d overslept the morning of her medical board exam and missed her bus. She’d flagged down a cab and given the driver the fastest route to the testing facility. She just needed to devise a new approach. Quickly.
Her apartment was packed into boxes, her one-way flight to London booked. All that remained was telling her family in a way that wouldn’t cause concern or undue worry. Since her mom’s death, Dad had become overly anxious about his daughters. Now Lily had walked away from one fiancé and into the arms of another, and her other sisters had succumbed to love, too. But Georgie had no intention of joining their lovesick bandwagon.
“You’re going to Falcon Creek, too?” The cowboy shifted, tipped his black hat up, revealing deep green eyes.
Sixteen different genes had contributed to his vivid yet rare eye color. Georgie took in the small scar paralleling his tanned, defined jawline. He could be one of her long-lost relatives in Falcon Creek. He looked similar to the cowboys in the pictures her sisters had texted her. Maybe it was the jeans, worn in the right places, or the gray plaid flannel shirt that looked oddly perfect on him. “Do you live in Falcon Creek?”
“Headed there for business,” he said.
His reply indicated he wasn’t a Blackwell. Her shoulders relaxed.
“What about you?” he asked.
“Wedding.”
“Cold feet.” He tipped his chin at the seat between them. His voice was sympathetic. “Sorry you lost your groom.”
“My groom?” Georgie sputtered. “It’s not my wedding. It’s my sister’s wedding. And he was my date.”
“Wow. Even worse to get cold feet on a date.” He pushed his cowboy hat up even farther, revealing thick chestnut hair. His gaze zeroed in on her. “What did you do?”
“Me? I did nothing.” Irritated, Georgie yanked on her seat belt, tightening the strap across her hips. His arched brow broke her more easily than her four sisters ganging up on her. No one deserved to have perfectly shaped eyebrows and rare green eyes, especially a charmingly aggravating cowboy like him. She blurted, “I might have been too intense last night.”
“He didn’t roll his clothes to prevent wrinkles and you criticized him. Or you refused to share a suitcase with him because that’s another rung on the relationship ladder.” He shook his head. The playful note in his voice interrupted his thoughtful expression. “You have to face it. You two just weren’t ready for the next level.”
“You’re completely wrong. He’s only a colleague who agreed to come with me,” Georgie argued, pointing at him like her genetics professor used to when a student dared to challenge his theories. “He didn’t bail on me either.”
“But he isn’t here.” The cowboy removed his hat and ran his hand through his hair. The chestnut strands weren’t even crimped or dented, which was entirely too unfair.
He placed his hat on top of her purse, effectively hiding it from the passing flight attendant and saving Georgie from another flight attendant reprimand. All carry-ons have to be stowed for takeoff. In that instant, they were accomplices the same way she’d wanted Colin to be her partner in what she’d dubbed her London Project.
Her cowboy could take Colin’s place.
She squelched the thought, slipping her purse from beneath the soft felt of his black hat and placing it underneath the seat in front of her.
“Why do you need a pretend date, anyway? He was pretend—you can admit it.” He studied her. One corner of his mouth tipped up, as if igniting the tinder in his gaze. “You want to upstage the bride. It’s a battle of the sisters. It’s sister wars. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“No.” Clearly, he’d watched too much reality TV. She’d watched too little. Still, she couldn’t shake the notion of him stepping into Colin’s shoes. “It’s nothing like that. Our family loves each other even when we disagree.”
“How does it work?” His curious voice tumbled through her.
“What?” Georgie tugged the in-flight magazine from the seat pocket in front of her, flipped it open and studied an ad for the perfect neck pillow. She could’ve used it on the plane and feigned sleep. That would have politely ended all conversation with the cowboy, but not the radical theory that he could be her plus-one.
“Getting a pretend date,” he said, as persistent as she was when testing one of her theories in the lab. “What makes a person want to pretend in the first place?”
“Why are we talking about this?” Georgie closed the magazine and flattened her hands on the cover.
Why was she considering this cowboy—a basic stranger—as her alternative strategy? No one would believe she’d fallen for a cowboy. She would’ve had to leave her research lab in Raleigh, North Carolina, and ventured out of the city. Her family knew she lacked a car and preferred to walk the two blocks to the research facility every day.
Georgie stuffed the magazine back into the seat pocket. She had to invalidate him as a potential alternative. Observation and facts had to be recorded. She noted his well-worn boots, from scuffed heels to dirt-coated toes. He appeared to be a cowboy from head to toe, and appealing, if you liked dust and the outdoors. Which she didn’t. “Ranch business must be taking you to Falcon Creek.”
“Rodeo,” he said.
“You’re bringing the rodeo to Falcon Creek?” she asked. His shoulders looked capable of pulling it off.
He grinned at her. “I’m in the rodeo.”
“Really?” She’d never been to a rodeo. She’d seen the bulls bucking on TV while flipping through the channels. But a rodeo cowboy could distract her family from her next career move. Stop right there, Georgiana Marie. Her mother’s inflexible tone had always halted Georgie’s unapproved science projects, rendering her theories unproved. “Are you any good?”
“Top ten calf roping and bronc riding in the country.” He shrugged as if being modest about the accomplishment.
“It’s like a full-time job.”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
“That’s impressive.” And exactly the thing that would impress Big E—her newly found grandfather—and her ranch-loving cousins. As for her dad, he couldn’t argue that the man wasn’t driven to succeed. That crazy, stupid idea took hold again, stronger than ever. “So, I take it you’ve never been anyone’s pretend date before?”
“When I date, I make sure it’s for real.” There was a vow in his voice and a guarantee in his gaze.
What would a real date with Mr. Green-Eyes entail? Picnic basket and a tailgate, most likely. Not her style. Or at least, she’d never been asked on a picnic. Disappointment sat down beside her. Which was about as outrageous as the idea she couldn’t quite toss away—him as her replacement date. He made her want to take a dare. She never felt daring. The wildest thing she’d done in a long time was arrange for a fake wedding date, and look how that had turned out. “So, if the rodeo isn’t in town, what rodeo business do you have in Falcon Creek?”
“Horses.” He rubbed his chin.
“My cousins own several of the largest ranches in the county,” Georgie said.
He dropped his hand and stilled. “Who are your cousins?”
“The Blackwells,” she said. “My sister’s wedding is going to be out at the Blackwell Family Guest Ranch. I would show you pictures of the ranch, but my cell phone is off.”
“It’s fine.” His fingers tapped against his leg. “The Blackwell family has a reputation.”
“Is that a good or bad thing?” Was it good or bad that he was a perfect fit for her family, but all wrong for her? She’d always dated the buttoned-up and bookish types, like herself. Men who understood that her mind might wander sometimes as she pondered new theories and possible outcomes. And she had to accept that she would need another script for her London announcement. One that didn’t include her green-eyed cowboy.
“It depends.” His gaze narrowed on her as if he’d devised his own plan B. “Would you consider a different person as your fake wedding date?”
“Someone like you?” she asked.
He ran his hand through his hair and frowned at her as if she’d bruised his pride. “Yes.”
“Why?” She was instantly hot and cold, wanting to shiver and break out in a sweat. This was simultaneously horrifying and fantastic.
“I haven’t been able to reach Ethan Blackwell by phone or email,” he said. “I was hoping to meet him in person. Talk to him face-to-face about my horse.”
“You want to be my pretend wedding date to get access to my cousin,” she clarified. Warning bells rang in her head.
“Yes.” He winced. Apprehension creased the corners of his eyes while concern lowered his voice. “It’s important.”
And she believed that, to him, it was very important. “Give me your name and number. I’ll pass it on to Ethan and personally vouch for you.”
“Right. That’s the logical option.” He took her in-flight magazine, tore a page out and asked the flight attendant walking by for a pen. He wrote in bold script across the ad and handed it to her. “I really appreciate it.”
Georgie did not appreciate the defeat in his gaze, as if he’d lost something precious. Nor did she appreciate the sense that she’d somehow let him down. They were two strangers, with only a destination in common. That they were both headed for Falcon Creek wasn’t enough of a connection to bring someone she’d just met to her family’s home as her fake wedding date. She folded the paper without reading his name.
Colin and she had been classmates in medical school and colleagues for close to a decade. And she’d spent more than a week convincing him to be her pretend wedding date.
She glanced at the cowboy. He’d settled back into his seat and dropped his hat back over his eyes. His shoulders slumped slightly.
An apology rolled into her throat, although she had nothing to apologize for. She opened the in-flight magazine to an article extolling the virtues of island living. That she wanted to help make him feel better was only natural. She might prefer to work in a research lab, but she’d earned her medical degree and the right to be called Dr. Georgiana Harrison. At heart, she was a nurturer.
If only her family would believe that working in a lab was enough to give her a fulfilling life, she wouldn’t have ever concocted a fake wedding date. She wouldn’t have convinced Colin to take part. And she never would’ve considered her cowboy for the role.
But that was the thing about strategies. She could always devise a new one.
CHAPTER TWO
I’M NOT GIVING UP, Cody. Zach leaned against the stainless-steel bar in the Last Call Cavern at Bozeman Airport and swirled his unfinished beer around the mug.
I’m sorry, Zach. There’s nothing more I can do for Rain Dancer but keep him comfortable. Dr. Morrow had gripped Zach’s shoulder, held on for one beat, then left Zach to collect himself alone in his horse’s stall.
Bad news was always delivered in three go-rounds.
An apology. Always the first. Always the lead-in. I’m sorry to have to tell you…
A gut punch. Always second. Always breath stealing. World tilting. But your brother’s cancer has returned. Your horse’s condition is terminal. Your father never woke up from surgery.
A hand on the shoulder. Always last. As if the messenger intended to hold him together long enough to escape the office, the stable or the waiting room.
Anguish thrashed through Zach like a bucking bronc without a rhythm. If only his misery faded in eight seconds like a bronc ride. Still, he allowed his sadness so many seconds to consume him before stepping back into the moment. The way he preferred to live his life: one moment at a time.
For one brief instant on the airplane, Zach had believed fate had finally granted him a miracle by seating him next to Ethan Blackwell’s cousin. Ethan Blackwell was the one veterinarian in the country who could save Rain Dancer. Ethan Blackwell was known for his outside-the-box thinking and innovative treatments when other vets and conventional medicine had failed. Ethan had to treat Rain Dancer. The quarter horse was Zach’s last connection to his brother.
Zach dropped a tip on the bar, left his beer unfinished and tightened his grip on the handle of his rolling carry-on. He had a rental car to pick up and a two-and-a-half-hour drive to Falcon Creek, as long as the weather held.
The woman on the plane hadn’t been his miracle. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d offered to be her pretend date. He’d learned as a child the danger of pretending. The truth always came out eventually, and the longer it’d been concealed the harder it struck.
/> Fortunately, the woman on the plane wasn’t reckless and she’d turned down Zach’s offer. He’d find his own way to Ethan Blackwell.
Speak of the devil. His in with the Blackwells stood with her focus fixed on the baggage claim carousel circling in front of her. She clutched a cell phone in one hand, her purse and a laptop bag in the other. The tilt of her chin toward the scuffed floor and the slouch in her shoulders gave away her distress.
Zach slowed and veered toward her. “Everything okay?”
“My bag isn’t here.” The woman lifted her head, pushed her honey-streaked hair off her face and blinked at him.
But the lost look in her gaze never faded. And that lost look tugged at places inside him. Places he’d shut down after Cody had passed. Still, he heard his brother’s laughter. Can’t resist trying to fix things, can you? He wasn’t fixing anything for her. He was simply checking in on his way out of the airport. “Guess you don’t have a change of clothes and the essentials tucked in with your laptop, right?”
She patted the very slim laptop bag. “Does a pack of gum count as essential?”
Zach winced.
“All my Christmas gifts were in my suitcase.” She scanned the baggage claim as if expecting her suitcase to appear. “And outfits for every different wedding event, of which there are many.”
“That’s impressive.” He’d folded his clothes only to ensure everything fit inside his carry-on. Good thing she hadn’t accepted his offer to be her pretend date. Their differences started at their suitcases and most likely extended to living habits. He had no roots. With a family like the Blackwells, her roots probably extended past county lines and ran deeper than still waters.
“What’s worse is my sister’s something old for her wedding is in my bag, too,” she said.
“Can you get another gift as a replacement?”
“It’s a charm bracelet that belonged to our mother.” She paused and bit into her bottom lip. “We gave her a new charm every year on her birthday.”