Whose wedding is it, anyway?

Rust Creek Ramblings

Why is Cole Dalton planning a wedding? No one even knew the ex-marine and rugged rancher was dating, and suddenly he has hired wedding planner Vivienne Shuster to coordinate his nuptials. Why has no one met his mystery bride? We here at the Gazette believe this engagement is fake. The sparks between Cole and his “wedding planner,” however, are strictly legit. Hang on to your invites, dear readers—someone may still be walking down the aisle!

CHRISTY JEFFRIES graduated from the University of California, Irvine, with a degree in criminology, and received her Juris Doctor from California Western School of Law. But drafting court documents and working in law enforcement was merely an apprenticeship for her current career in the dynamic field of mommyhood and romance writing. She lives in Southern California with her patient husband, two energetic sons and one sassy grandmother. Follow her online at www.christyjeffries.com.

Also by Christy Jeffries

A Proposal for the Officer

A Family Under the Stars

The Makeover Prescription

The Matchmaking Twins

From Dare to Due Date

Waking Up Wed

A Marine for His Mom

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

The Maverick’s Bridal Bargain

Christy Jeffries

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07775-0

THE MAVERICK’S BRIDAL BARGAIN

© 2018 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Stephanie Uribe Roman Phillips, my college (and beyond) roommate, my partner in crime, my wingwoman, my dance floor equal, my V&T co-conspirator, my maid of honor, my sister in mommyhood, my therapist, my mainstay, my very best of best friends. And that’s just the first 25 years.

C

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

While Vivienne Shuster no longer made assumptions about whose marriages would last, she could say with certainty that the bride and groom sitting across the conference-room table from her didn’t appear to be the type who would maliciously smash cake in each other’s faces.

Not that being a Junior Wedding Planner—yes, her boss had actually put that title on Vivienne’s business cards—in Kalispell, Montana, gave Vivienne any sort of sneak peek into the future, but it did give her an inside track as to how a couple navigated one of the most stressful events of their relationship. Because if they couldn’t deal well with simple decisions like color schemes and invite lists, the pair was doomed when it came to handling the more important realities of life after the wedding glow burned out.

Listening intently, Vivienne nodded as she scribbled notes inside the brand-new binder she’d started when Lydia Grant and Zach Dalton came into her office fifteen minutes ago. So far, Lydia was the ideal bride in that she was already eager to leave most of the details to Vivienne and seemed to be more excited over the prospect of getting married than the actual reception. In fact, the groom was the one who’d scheduled the initial consultation in an effort to take some of the pressure of planning off his soon-to-be wife.

Zach and Lydia were clearly enamored with each other and, so far, the meeting was going smoothly, with everyone on the same page. Vivienne wasn’t surprised to find herself back on Team Romance—which was what she secretly called this euphoric mood that made her believe long-lasting love might actually be possible. It was times like these when she absolutely adored her job.

Unfortunately, in her chosen profession, the good moments were starting to become a lot less frequent than the headache-inducing ones.

Glancing at her slim smartwatch, she realized that she had only another hour before her boss showed up. Vivienne had purposely scheduled this appointment for seven in the morning, well before normal business hours, because she knew that her boss would be salivating once she found out that the couple wanted to have their wedding in Rust Creek Falls. The owner of Estelle’s Events weighed all of ninety pounds—not counting her makeup and false eyelashes, which added at least another five—and had been smoking a pack a day for the past fifty years. If Estelle got her acrylic claws into this easygoing bride, then the small town of Rust Creek Falls, Montana, would never know what hit it.

“So we’ve got three bridesmaids,” Vivienne confirmed with Lydia, before turning to Zach. “What about groomsmen?”

“Now, that may be a problem.” Even without his Stetson, Zach was good-looking. But when the guy hitched up one side of his mouth into an aw-shucks grin, he became a double threat—gorgeous and charming. “I have four brothers.”

“Four?” Vivienne gulped, blinking a few times to keep her eyes from bugging out. There was more than one handsome cowboy like this out there somewhere?

Zach pulled a picture from his wallet and handed it across the desk as though to prove it. She attempted to study the photo with as much professionalism as she could muster. There were two pairs of cowboys sitting on the top slat of a wooden corral, bookending a fifth cowboy who was standing in the middle. Zach was probably one of the sitters, but, honestly, Vivienne barely gave those guys a passing glance. She quickly narrowed in on the one in the center, though only because his central position and straight posture drew all of her attention. It had nothing to do with his sexy smirk or alert blue eyes. And it certainly wasn’t because of the way his jeans fit perfectly on his—

“Is it a problem if we’re uneven?” Lydia asked, yanking Vivienne out of her inappropriate thoughts. The bride-to-be was wearing jeans, a retro T-shirt advertising the band Lynyrd Skynyrd, and had a mess of brown curls piled into a ponytail. She definitely didn’t strike Vivienne as the type to be bothered by unconventional appearances.

“No problem at all,” she assured Lydia, smiling as she clung to the picture she wasn’t quite ready to return. “It’s your big day. There is no right way or wrong way to do things.”

She snuck another peek at her watch, knowing the uproar Estelle would make if she overheard Vivienne saying that to a client. As a Junior Wedding Planner, Vivienne’s so-called office actually doubled as the conference room and was currently open to the reception area so she could pull double duty as the receptionist. It also meant Vivienne could easily be overheard whenever she was talking to her clients, which was why she always tried to conduct these initial appointments when her boss wasn’t around.

“So, with that many brothers, are you willing to pick just one to be the best man?” Vivienne asked, needing to move this meeting along but not wanting to rush Zach with what could be an important decision.

Judging by the happily casual way they were all posing in the picture, it was easy to make the assumption that the Dalton brothers were close. But as an only child, her experience in dealing with sibling rivalry had been limited to what she’d witnessed during prior weddings. She’d had her share of brides who didn’t want a prettier sister upstaging them on their big day. There’d even once been an usher who decided that the start of his brother’s ceremony would be the perfect time to propose to his own girlfriend. In short, nobody liked having their thunder stolen.

Zach held his cowboy hat in his lap, tapping the brim as he considered his options. Vivienne cleared her throat. “Or you could pick a friend or a cousin or even skip having a best man altogether.”

He looked at Lydia, who simply shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

“I should go with Booker because he’s the oldest,” the groom began. “But Cole can have a bit of a hero complex and will think he’s the only one—”

The front door creaked open, interrupting Zach and forcing all three of their heads to swivel down the short hall in that direction. Vivienne held her breath, praying it was only a delivery person and that Estelle hadn’t decided to come in early.

But before she could stand up and intercept whoever it was, the middle cowboy from the picture strode across the reception area toward them, his boot heels clicking on the hardwood floor, his jeans well-worn and snug on his long, muscular legs. An electrical current shot through Vivienne and it took a few attempts for her to get her wobbly legs steady enough to rise to her feet.

How was it possible that the man was even better looking in person?

“Speak of the devil,” Zach said to her and then also stood up and turned to the newcomer. “What are you doing here, Cole?”

“Did you even look at your left rear tire before driving all the way to Kalispell this morning?” the newcomer said to Zach. Then, as if suddenly realizing that his brother wasn’t the only one in the room, the man removed his off-white cowboy hat and addressed his soon-to-be sister-in-law. “Hey, Lydia.”

“Hi, Cole. This is our wedding planner, Vivienne Shuster,” Lydia responded. “Vivienne, this is Cole Dalton, one of Zach’s brothers.”

Thankfully, Vivienne had braced one hand on the edge of the table when she leaned across it to shake his, because the warmth of Cole’s palm enveloped her and she would’ve found herself moving in closer to him if there hadn’t been three feet of heavily polished antique walnut separating them.

“Sorry to barge in on you like this, ma’am.” His words drew her in even closer until her hips pressed against the table.

Growing up in Montana, despite having lived only in the bigger cities, Vivienne was accustomed to the occasional cowboy calling her ma’am. But there was something about Cole’s voice that was both honey filled yet crisp at the same time. She cleared her throat and replied, “It’s no problem.”

“What’s wrong with my left rear tire?” Zach’s words penetrated Vivienne’s improper fascination and, thankfully, reminded her to pull her hand back.

Her cheeks stung with heat as she looked down to straighten her still-empty binder, then took a swig of her iced coffee nearby. The last thing her overactive imagination needed was caffeine, but there were only so many things she could focus on besides the good-looking man with the sexy voice and mesmerizing handshake.

“When I went out to the stables this morning, I noticed the pressure was low,” Cole told his brother, and Vivienne sank slowly into her chair, relieved that nobody else in the room was paying any attention to how her body had just responded to a complete stranger. “I was going to get the compressor out of the shed and fill it up for you after I got done changing the poultice on Zorro’s foreleg. But you’d hightailed it out of there before I got back. Aunt Rita told me about your appointment, and the whole way here I had to keep my eyes peeled to make sure you weren’t stranded on the side of the road with a flat.”

Zach looked over his shoulder and mouthed the words hero complex to Vivienne and Lydia before turning back to his brother. “Why didn’t you just call?”

“I did. You didn’t answer. I also called the bridal shop here, but all I got was an answering service.”

Vivienne was about to explain that they weren’t just a bridal shop as well as the fact that, technically, they weren’t open yet. But the concern on Cole’s face seemed genuine, and his indignation about his brother’s safety made the guy even more attractive, if that was possible.

Zach rolled his eyes, pulling his cell from his pocket. “Sorry, man. I must’ve accidentally set it on sleep mode.”

“You know the family rule about phones.” Cole crossed his arms over his broad chest, and his brother’s expression turned from playful annoyance to humble remorse.

“You’re right.” Zach reached out and squeezed Cole’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go outside and look at my tire?”

The men excused themselves and the front door had just clicked shut behind them when Vivienne asked Lydia, “What’s the family rule about cell phones?”

She wanted to kick herself for asking a client such a personal question that was absolutely none of her business. But Lydia was an assistant manager and sort of reporter-at-large for a small-town newspaper and would, hopefully, understand Vivienne’s blatant curiosity.

“Do you remember hearing about that horrible wildfire in Hardin last year?” At Vivienne’s nod, Lydia continued. “Well, their ranch and the family house caught fire.”

The woman looked up at the ceiling as though she was weighing whether or not to continue the story. When she lowered her head, Vivienne realized Lydia’s eyes had grown damp. Reaching into her go bag, where she always kept an emergency stash of anything a bride might need on her big day, Vivienne grabbed a package of tissues and slid them across the table to Lydia. “That must’ve been a horrible loss.”

“It was beyond horrible. Their mom was also in the house at the time and nobody had been able to warn her about the blaze because she’d left her cell phone in her car outside.”

Vivienne’s chest felt hollow and she pressed her lips together to keep from asking the obvious question. But judging by the way Lydia released a ragged breath, the answer was pretty clear. Her heart broke for Zach and Cole and, really, for all of the Dalton brothers. Especially since the loss of their mother was so recent.

She reached back into her go bag and replaced the tissues with a king-size bag of M&M’s. Vivienne was no stranger to delicate situations, but some wedding dynamics called for a little more finesse and a lot more chocolate.

* * *

Cole Dalton didn’t waste any time reading his brother the riot act as soon as their boots hit the parking lot. “Zach, it’s one thing if you insist on driving around town on four bald tires when it’s just you in the rig, but now that you’re shackling yourself with a wife, you’ll be responsible for someone else’s safety and happiness.”

“Shackling?” Zach lifted one of his eyebrows. “You make it sound like a prison sentence.”

Cole sighed. “It’s not that I think marriage is a prison sentence. After all, our parents were in love and probably would’ve been married for another thirty-five years...” He let his voice trail off. Nobody liked thinking about what could have been, and the men of the Dalton family especially weren’t eager to talk about it. “Anyway, I’m sure you won’t mess things up too badly with Lydia.”

“Yeah, right. When you can commit to a woman for longer than a slow dance at the Ace in the Hole on a Saturday night, then you can give me relationship advice, big brother.”

“Commit? Oh, please. I’ve got my hands so full looking out for you and the rest of our oversize family, I barely have time to schedule an appointment at the barbershop, let alone take a woman out on a proper date.”

“Is that a fact?” Zach asked, and Cole took off his Stetson to show his brother how long it’d been since his last military-regulation haircut. Okay, so it had been only a few weeks, but when Cole had been on active duty in the Marine Corps, he was used to getting a high and tight every ten days. Zach whistled and replied, “It sure seemed like you had all the time in the world when you wouldn’t let go of that pretty wedding planner’s hand a few minutes ago.”

Cole folded his arms over his chest, knowing his brother was just trying to rile him up. All the Dalton boys enjoyed going back and forth with each other like that. But the defensive stance also helped hide the way he was flexing his right hand, which still tingled from the softness of Vivienne’s palm fitting so perfectly inside it.

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.”

“You’re getting dirt all over your...” He pointed at the mud now covering the neckline of her dress, then slammed his fingers into his front pockets when he realized he was gesturing toward her breasts. When she pulled the binder closer as if she could shield his inappropriate gaze, he felt his cheeks flame.

“Do you want to wait for them on the porch?” he asked. He had no idea when Zach and Lydia would get here, and while Cole could rescue windblown papers, he wasn’t much for entertaining guests or making small talk. Racking his brain, he asked himself what his aunt Rita would do if she were home. “Can I get you a drink?”

Vivienne rotated her slender wrist to glance at her watch. “Actually, if you wouldn’t mind me using the restroom, I could try to clean myself up a little before they get here.”

“No problem,” he said, taking the tall vase from her. “Follow me.”

He slowed his pace so that she could better follow him without getting one of her heels stuck in the driveway. His uncle and aunt’s sprawling log ranch house was pretty big, but with Cole’s dad and brothers living there temporarily, he couldn’t vouch for the cleanliness of anyone else’s bathroom but his own.

He said as much as he led her down the hallway toward the girls’ wing. Then, because he didn’t want her getting the wrong idea about where he was taking her, he added, “We have to walk through here to get to the Jack-and-Jill-style bathroom.”

“This is your bedroom?” she asked, her gaze focused on the fierce pink sign on the door ordering all boys to keep out.

“Originally, the two rooms on this side of the house belonged to my cousins Kristen and Kayla before they got married. So I can’t take credit for the decor. All the frills and ruffles and throw pillows were here when I moved in.”

“That’s good to know.” Vivienne’s playful smile sent an electrical current through his gut. “I had you pegged for more of a roses-and-chintz type of guy, so the daisy quilt and eyelet curtains threw me off for a second.”

“Roses? Me? And here I thought I was sending out a strong tulip vibe.” He grinned back at her and then continued on toward the bathroom.

“I think it’s sweet that your masculinity isn’t threatened by a few pastels and floral prints.”

“Listen, I slept in much worse conditions when I was deployed in the Marine Corps.”

She didn’t respond, so he turned back to see if she was still following him. Vivienne had paused right outside the bathroom door, her head tilted. “You were in the Marines?”

“You seem surprised,” Cole replied.

“In my line of work, I try to never be too surprised about anyone.” She crossed over the threshold and set her muddy binder down on the tile counter. “Although, I had assumed that you were just a cowboy.”

“Just a cowboy?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I meant like a full-time job. Your brother Zach mentioned that he’s been so busy working here with your uncle and helping your father find a new ranch. I saw the picture of you with your brothers dressed up in—” she gestured toward his daily uniform of boots, jeans and a flannel shirt “—all that cowboy gear and I figured that you guys all worked together.”

“Some of us work harder than others,” he said as he winked. Then he wanted to kick himself for flirting when nobody was even around to witness it. Well, nobody except Vivienne, who seemed way too serious and professional to engage in harmless bantering. Still, she had made the first joke, so maybe he’d read her wrong. “If it’s any consolation, you were right and I’m now a full-time cowboy.”

“So then you’re not a Marine anymore?”

“Well, you know what they say. Once a Marine, always a Marine.” He saw the confusion creasing the smooth skin of her forehead. “I put in my time and was honorably discharged.”

“Oh. How long did you serve?” Vivienne focused on him when almost any woman he knew would’ve already directed her full attention to her own reflection in the nearby mirror, worrying how she would get all that dirt off her pretty dress.

Cole was surprised by how natural it would’ve felt to hitch his hip up onto the countertop and shoot the breeze with her. Five minutes ago, he’d been dreading talking to her about anything more substantial than whether she preferred ice in her sweet tea. Yet the lady who had at first appeared to be all business now seemed completely at ease making small talk in such close and personal quarters.

Unfortunately, his departure from the Corps and the circumstances surrounding it brought back the painful memory he would never be comfortable talking about with anyone, let alone a stranger—no matter how attractive she was.

Instead, he did what he always did when he wanted to avoid something. He winked and made a wisecrack. “You’d need to have security clearance to get that type of information out of me.”

Vivienne’s hand rested casually on the edge of the sink as she faced him and wiggled her eyebrows. “As the wedding planner, you’d be amazed at some of the insider intel I can access.”

His glance dipped down to the V of her dress as he considered how far she might go in her fact-finding mission. A throbbing of awareness below his belt buckle yanked him back to reality. When he dragged his eyes up to meet hers, she was staring at him in a way that made him feel completely exposed.

Cole purposely broke eye contact by reaching for a couple of pink washcloths in the cabinet before handing one to her. “Why’s that?”

“In addition to organizing everything, my job is to be part psychologist, part coach, part fortune teller and a full-time mediator. I have to get all the data I can about not only the couple, but also their friends and their families, to prepare for a multitude of possibilities.”

“But it’s just a wedding. What could possibly go wrong?” he asked as he began cleaning the binder in one of the bathroom sinks.

She used a washcloth at the other sink to wipe the spot of mud on her dress, looking in the mirror as she spoke. “I need to know which uncle—or aunt—is likely to have too much to drink. I have to make sure that there aren’t any bickering cousins sitting together at the head table or any exes coming as someone else’s plus-one. It helps to find out in advance if the father of the bride has any food allergies and what the mother of the groom’s favorite song is for the...” Regret dawned in her eyes and, thankfully, she caught herself just before saying the words mother and son dance.

But the image was already out there for Cole.

His mom.

The woman who’d dreamed of being a dancer on Broadway before she’d fallen in love with a rancher from Montana. The woman who’d taught them all how to do a basic waltz and an electric slide before they were in sixth grade. The woman who used to stop whatever she was doing when the perfect two-stepping beat came on the radio, grab whichever boy was nearest to her and then laugh and sing as she twirled a kid around the house.

Diana Dalton would never get to dance at any of her sons’ weddings. The thought was like a punch to Cole’s gut.

“I am so sorry,” Vivienne began, but he held up a palm. Hearing her pity would only make the guilt twist deeper inside of him.

“Don’t worry about it.” He forced his tense lips into a casual smile, but his reflection revealed that it was more of an uncomfortable grimace. They were looking at each other through the mirror, and even though it wasn’t direct eye contact, it was still too much. He grabbed a towel off the rack behind him, buying himself a few seconds to regain his composure before he turned back.

Vivienne’s own hands had stilled under the stream, so he shut off the water and passed her the clean binder. His voice sounded normal enough when he said, “Here. Good as new.”

Then he reached for another brightly colored hand towel and held it out to her. She opened her mouth, but before she could apologize, he cut her off. “Don’t tell my brothers this, but when we moved to the Circle D, I purposely drew the short straw because I’ve always been partial to the color pink anyway.”

Then, as if to prove that everything was fine, he gave her another wink in the mirror before walking out.

Chapter Three

Vivienne lingered in the bathroom a few more minutes, mentally berating herself for slipping like that and bringing up Cole’s mother. Bracing her hands on the counter, she bent her head and tried to reason that she hadn’t technically been referring to his mother. Still, the angst that had flashed across his face was due to a freshly painful subject that she’d brought up.

She pinched her eyes shut. Vivienne was usually much more sensitive in her dealings with clients, even if they looked like ruggedly tough cowboys who were quick to tease. But she hadn’t been herself since the moment she’d driven up. When she’d gotten out of her car earlier, she’d been surprised to see Cole outside, his shirtsleeves rolled up and working with that horse like a hero out of some Western novel. Something had stirred inside of her and she’d tried to distract herself with the task of getting too many things out of her trunk at once.

Then she’d accidentally flashed him when her wraparound skirt had blown apart, and she’d dropped everything she’d brought, including her pride. She’d been speechless and muddy and completely vulnerable, which must’ve been the reason she’d willingly followed the man into his bedroom of all places.

It had taken every last bit of nerve she possessed to look Cole in the eye and make small talk with him as though having conversations with strange men in the tight confines of their bathrooms was the most normal thing in the world. Vivienne had been forced to focus on his face so that her eyes wouldn’t dart off and stare at the shower just behind where he’d been standing. She had done her best to maintain an ounce of professionalism while simultaneously imagining what he would look like all damp and steamy, wrapped in nothing but the small towel hanging on the hook beside the beveled-glass-door shower stall.

They had been inches apart at side-by-side sinks for goodness’ sakes! Was there ever a more intimate environment to be in with a man? How would she know? The few relationships she’d had in college were with guys who lived in different dorms, and she’d never seen a need to sleep over. After graduation, she’d made her job her top priority and had gone on only a handful of dates since then—none of which required the sharing of a bathroom.

Vivienne looked back at the boy-band poster taped to the wall behind her. Okay, so maybe this particular bathroom wasn’t that intimate of an environment. But Cole had been wearing those jeans and doing that lazy smirk, and her brain had gone all cloudy. Obviously, she hadn’t been in her right mind or else she never would have mentioned mothers at all.

Sure, he’d bounced back from her inept comment fairly quickly, graciously acting like nothing was wrong. He’d even delivered a saucy wink that was so believable she’d all but dropped her stupid binder a second time on the ivory-and-pink rag rug.

Vivienne frowned at the binder. She preferred to keep most of her work on an electronic tablet, but Estelle insisted on having hard copies of everything. The three-ring notebook made her feel as though she was back in middle school, a trusty Trapper Keeper in her arms the only thing separating her from the cute boy who had the locker right next to hers.

It also made her feel as though she was constantly lugging her boss around with her, a not-so-subtle reminder that she was supposed to be booking more clients. Not only did she need to be professional and do her job, she needed to do it well enough that others would be willing to hire her, as well. And flirting with the groom’s brother in the bathroom was not the way to accomplish her career goals.

Standing up straighter, she decided that she’d already hidden out in Cole’s bathroom long enough. Plus, she was pretty sure she heard voices coming from somewhere outside, so it was time to get to work.

Vivienne wished she had paid more attention to the house layout when she’d followed Cole back here. Instead, she’d kept staring at his jeans-clad rear end, and now she was stuck navigating her way back to the main area of the house. She made only one wrong turn, telling herself that every framed family photo on the wall was merely insight to better understanding her clients.

Relief flooded through her when she spotted Lydia and Zach in the front room. Thankfully, there was no sign of Cole.

“Sorry we’re late,” Lydia said.

Vivienne waved her off. “No, I was early.”

The three of them stood there for a few awkward moments until Vivienne finally asked, “Should we sit down somewhere?”

“Sorry,” Zach said, somewhat sheepishly. “I may be living here, but I’m not used to playing host. Why don’t we head over to the kitchen table?”

Vivienne followed the couple into the large, sunny kitchen and came up short when she saw Cole standing in front of the refrigerator with a big plate covered in foil. “Don’t mind me,” he told them. “I worked through lunch and wanted to grab a quick snack.”

“Does Aunt Rita have any of that lemon icebox pie left over from last night?” Zach asked his brother.

“She did,” Cole replied, before hiding the plate behind his back. “Finders keepers.”

Zach responded with a noise that sounded suspiciously like an oink, then lunged at his brother’s elbow, trying to pull his arm forward.

“I’m the pig?” Cole used his shoulder to deliver a powerful block. “Don’t you have a fancy tuxedo you’re gonna need to fit into?”

“Do I have to wear a tux?” Zach turned toward her and Lydia, causing Vivienne to let out the breath she’d been holding when she thought the two brothers were going to come to blows over a piece of dessert.

Lydia looked at her for the answer. Vivienne cleared her throat. “Not if you don’t want to. You can dress as formally or as casually as you like. But since we’re talking about outfits, have you guys thought about a color scheme?”

Vivienne opened the binder on the table and pulled out several pictures she’d printed after the first meeting with the couple. They spoke about suits and lace and blush pink and everything Vivienne easily discussed on any given day. However, her mind was completely elsewhere, and she found herself constantly losing her train of thought.

Cole opened cupboard doors and shuffled things around inside the fridge as though he were scavenging for more food. Yet he didn’t eat another bite. His mouth was too busy sputtering anytime Vivienne answered a question or made a suggestion. It was obvious he was not only listening to every word they were saying, but that he also had a completely differing set of opinions.

After Cole had snorted for at least the seventh time, Zach finally said, “Please ignore my brother. He thinks he’s an expert on everything, including event planning, apparently.”

“Pfshh. I’m an expert on not wanting to go to lame events.”

“Lame?” Zach repeated. “Back in high school, his idea of a party was to invite all of his junior lifeguarding buddies from the community pool over to our house for a refresher course in CPR.”

Cole’s eyes narrowed as his lips eased into another one of those slow smirks. “Maybe we just wanted an excuse to practice mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on some pretty teenage girls.”

“Yeah, right.” Zach chuckled before cupping his hand around his mouth to stage-whisper, “Shawn and I were spying on them and the only exchanging of saliva came when Rondalee Franks double-dipped her carrots in the ranch dressing. And even that was limited, since Cole launched himself at the dip bowl like it was a live grenade.”

“What can I say?” Cole shrugged. “I saved everyone from a potential outbreak of mononucleosis.”

“That’s right.” Zach pointed a finger at his brother. “Wasn’t she the girl who was absent from school for a couple of months?”

“Yes. And you’re welcome.” Cole made an exaggerated bow and Zach threw the crumpled-up piece of foil from the pie plate at him.

“If you really wanted to be useful, you could whip up a plate of brownies or at least set out some cheese and crackers for our guests.”

“For Lydia and Vivienne, I might be willing to rustle up something,” Cole said as he pulled a bag of potato chips out of the pantry. “But you should probably lay off the carbs if you plan to hire a professional photographer. I hear the camera adds ten pounds.”

Both Dalton men were six feet tall, with similar lean, muscular builds. While Vivienne was more appreciative of the way Cole filled out his jeans, neither one was at risk of needing to watch his calories. But that didn’t stop them from arguing over who was entitled to which snack.

Someone needed to pass Vivienne something to eat soon, because she couldn’t keep up this charade for long. Stress made her hungry, and while this was one of the easiest couples to work with, Cole’s constant presence wasn’t exactly relaxing, despite her comfortable seat at the long pine table. If the awkward moment in the bathroom hadn’t happened, she might be able to enjoy this family’s teasing camaraderie. But that wasn’t what she was getting paid to do.

“All this talk about food brings up another thing we need to be thinking about before we go look at venues,” Vivienne said in an effort to smoothly transition the conversation back to the purpose of their meeting. “Do you guys have a preference for a buffet, or would you rather serve a formal plated meal?”

“Hmm. I guess we have to feed our guests, don’t we?” Lydia put her elbow on the table and propped her chin on her hand.

“Not necessarily.” Vivienne gave a discreet cough, attempting to block out Estelle’s voice in her head drilling her to always upsell. “Some couples prefer to save money by having only light refreshments and cake.”

Luckily, this particular bride and groom had already laid out their budget at the initial meeting, and she doubted that Zach and Lydia would be the type to skimp on their guests’ comfort. Still, she felt the need to always give people their options.

“Seems to me like you guys should just drive over to the courthouse, say the I do’s and be done with the whole thing.” Cole gestured at the binder. “That paper you guys sign is going to be the same whether you throw away all your money on this nonsense or not.”

Nonsense? Did the man realize that he was indirectly implying that Vivienne and her job were completely useless, as well? Her spine straightened at the insult but soon lost some of its steel resolve when she couldn’t really argue the point. More often than not, she felt that weddings and even marriages were just a big waste of effort and time. But she wasn’t about to admit as much in front of her clients. She was supposed to be drumming up more business, not losing it.

Thankfully, Lydia jumped in. “Cole, this wedding isn’t just about me and Zach. It’s about our families and our friends and our journey to finding each other. It may be nonsense to you, but to me, it’s an opportunity to celebrate everything and everyone who is important in our relationship.”

Zach opened his mouth—probably to defend his bride, who was clearly capable of speaking up for herself—but his cell phone went off at the exact same time Cole pulled his own vibrating phone from his pocket.

“It’s a group text from Dad,” Cole said first.

“I know,” Zach replied, not looking up from his cell. “I’m part of the group.”

It seemed like a race to see which brother could read the message first. Not that she had a view of anyone’s screens from her seat on the opposite side of the table, but curiosity had Vivienne scooting closer to the edge of her chair.

Cole’s fingers were already flying across the electronic keyboard, likely because he wanted to be the first to respond. She was sensing a competitive edge to the middle Dalton son.

Luckily, Zach didn’t appear to have the same sense of urgency to reply, because he announced, “Looks like Dad just made an offer on some property a few miles away.”

“That’s fantastic,” Lydia said. “Where is it?”

“He said Sawmill Station,” Zach replied. “I know we’re still pretty new to Rust Creek and I’ve heard of Sawmill Road. But I’ve never heard of a ranch by that name.”

Lydia tilted her head. “That’s because Sawmill Station isn’t a ranch. It’s an old abandoned train depot.”

“Why would Dad make an offer on an abandoned train depot?” Cole asked as he continued typing.

Zach’s phone made another ping. “I’d ask him, but I can’t dial out when my phone keeps buzzing with incoming texts from you.”

“I just told him that I’m here at the Circle D with you and we can swing by to check it out.”

“I know,” Zach told his brother, holding up his phone. “I can read.”

Lydia looked at her watch. “We have another hour before our appointment at Maverick Manor in town. Since Sawmill Station is on the way, we could swing by and check it out. Would you mind, Vivienne?”

She leaned back slowly in her chair to prevent herself from sliding under the table to get away from Cole’s penetrating stare. Anticipation hummed through the kitchen and it was obvious that buying this property was a monumental occasion for the Dalton family. Normally, she liked to meet with her clients at their homes or workplaces because seeing them in their natural surroundings gave her a better sense of their personalities, which translated to a fuller picture of how they envisioned their big day. However, tagging along on a private family outing was surely beyond the boundaries of her job description.

Yet all three of them looked so eager she couldn’t very well deny them their side trip. And they could just as easily discuss bouquets and music playlists in the car. Besides, this was her last appointment of the day. The only thing waiting for her at home was a to-go box containing half of a three-day-old club sandwich, and an unsocial guinea pig who refused to come out of its cage.

Vivienne managed a weak smile and said, “Sure. Why not?”

* * *

Cole should’ve just driven his own truck, but GPS navigational systems were still spotty this far out and Lydia was the only person who knew exactly where they were going. They could’ve gone caravan style, but Cole had never been the type to blindly follow while one of his brothers took the lead. Riding together seemed like the most logical solution.

Of course, that was before he realized that he’d be crammed into the back seat of the crew cab next to the hoity-toity wedding planner who kept her body so stiff there wasn’t a bump or pothole along the way that would dislodge her from her seat-belted perch.

Fortunately, the soft fabric of her overlapping skirt wasn’t as rigid and would gape open a little wider every time his brother navigated a curve on the winding, narrow road that led to the new property. Cole had just gotten a peek of the freckle on Vivienne’s thigh when the truck made a sharp right at a faded yellow sign that might’ve once read Sawmill Station.

“I thought Dad was going to buy an actual ranch,” Zach commented as he slowed the vehicle in front of a run-down brick building that was way too enormous to be a barn or a stable.

“It’s certainly a far cry from the Circle D,” Cole agreed. “But Dad said he was buying it for the acreage. I guess we’re supposed to envision it once we get those old structures torn down and some pastures mapped out.”

Lydia’s yelp from the front seat was more like a squeak. “You can’t just tear down those buildings. They’re historical landmarks.”

Cole waited for Zach to put the truck in Park before unbuckling his seat belt. As he hopped out, he asked, “Are we going to run a ranch or a museum?”

He walked around to the passenger side of the truck, where Vivienne was tentatively placing one high-heeled foot on the running board in order to climb down. Cole reached out instinctively and cupped her elbow as she descended onto the mud-caked asphalt. Feeling a tug low in his belly at her nearness, he had to force himself to let go when she began to straighten her skirt.

“I recently helped out on an article about all the abandoned railway lines in Montana,” Lydia said with some awe as the four of them stood in a row in the weed-infested gravel driveway. “A hundred or so years ago, this property used to be a feed mill and ran adjacent to a logging camp. Back then, the best way for businesses to distribute their products throughout the West was by freight car. The original owners laid some tracks and opened a small depot, naming the place Sawmill Station. Their vision was shortsighted, though, because, as you know, the logging industry never stayed in one place very long, so the camp moved on. Then as more ranchers came out west, the feed mill’s business boomed. Unfortunately, this location was pretty remote, and with the invention of eighteen-wheelers and interstates, using trains way out here fell by the wayside. The company had to change with the times and eventually relocated to Kalispell.”

Cole had always thought himself to be too practical for nostalgia, but the acreage was vast and grassy if he looked past the buildings. Plus, it was kind of cool to own a place with a little bit of history, a place that someone else had once sunk their own blood and sweat into. Maybe it was all those years living in barracks on military bases, but he was itching to replant some roots and this neglected-looking property needed him. It felt good to be needed again.

The possibility of a challenge flared up inside of him and he wondered out loud, “So maybe instead of bulldozing everything to the ground, we can repurpose some of these buildings. If only we knew what was what.”

“Down at the Gazette offices, I think we have an old photo of this place in its heyday,” Lydia explained, walking toward a smaller structure. “I believe that this peeling white building up front is the actual depot, but because nobody in town came this far out, it never saw too many passengers. That huge brick monstrosity back there is a freight house, where they’d store the loaded cars.”

“Looks like they left one behind when they closed down operations.” Vivienne pointed to an abandoned railcar sitting at a crooked angle, the lower half almost hidden by overgrown grass and the inside probably home to several different species of critters. Cole watched the wedding planner as she studied their surroundings. He’d half expected her to jump back into the truck at the first sight of a prairie dog. But she surprised him when she said, “There’s something alluring and fascinating about it all, isn’t there? I mean, all that rustic brick is totally back in style right now. And the tiny depot is adorable. Can’t you just picture what it would look like with a fresh coat of white paint and some flower boxes planted around the platform?”

“What used to be the platform, you mean.” Cole squinted at the collapsed, rotted-out planks.

“Let’s go check out the freight house,” Vivienne suggested, surprising him again by leading the way. Her legs trembled slightly as she trudged through the path in her high heels, and Cole found himself appreciating her determination and curiosity.

When they got to the wooden plank doors of the large brick structure, he saw that the padlock was relatively new, but the hasp was so rusted that it all but fell at Zach’s feet when his brother gave it a slight tug.

“Whoa,” Cole said, taking a step back. “Isn’t that breaking and entering?”

“Not if you guys own the property,” Vivienne replied, before being the first to walk inside. Cole almost asked if prowling and trespassing were included in her wedding-planner fees, or if she charged extra for that service.

“We don’t own it yet,” Cole called out when Zach and Lydia followed her lead. Super. Now they were all committing a crime. He stepped in after them. “Technically, Dad never mentioned whether or not the offer was accepted.”

“Relax, Sergeant Save-the-Day,” Zach said, using the hated nickname from childhood. “The lock is probably just to keep out the bears and the teenagers looking for a hangout. It’s not like they’re storing any valuables in here.”

Okay, so maybe his brother had a point. Aside from some spiderwebs and a few broken wooden crates in one corner, the place was empty.

“Wow.” Vivienne did a complete circle as she looked up at the row of dormer windows lining each side of the roofline. “Look at all the natural light coming in here. An open floor plan like this would be the perfect place to host some sort of housewarming party.”

Cole squeezed his eyelids shut for a few seconds, then opened them, wondering if the woman was seeing the same run-down barren building he was. Who in their right mind would throw a party here? Or maybe the fee calculator in her mind was ka-chinging like a cash register, and Vivienne was hoping to make a killing on his family with her suggestions for additional parties they didn’t need.

“I’m afraid your vision is completely lost on me,” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Look.” She pulled a small electronic tablet out of her purse and made her way toward him as she tapped on the screen. She held up a picture of what looked to be some fancy hall decorated to look like an old barn. Or maybe it was an old barn cleaned up to look like a fancy hall. “People actually pay thousands of dollars to rent out aged buildings just like these for private events.”

“Yeah, but how much work would it take to make this—” Cole gestured to the brick walls and windows caked with years of grime before pointing at her device “—look like that?”

“I guess it would depend on how motivated you were. I bet a cleaning crew could have this place scrubbed down in a couple of days. The roof might need some repairing, just in case it rains during the event, and you’ll probably need a new shed door. I’m not an expert at refurbishing old buildings, but you’d only need to make it structurally sound, not livable. Part of the charm is in keeping the thing as rustic as possible. Then you bring in your own tables and chairs, or you get them from a party rental company, call up a caterer and go from there.”

“Can I see that picture?” Lydia asked as she and Zach huddled together on one side of Vivienne. Cole found himself practically pressed up against her other side so that he could still see the screen as she swiped through similar images. But instead of focusing on the photos, his eyes kept straying toward the V-neck of her dress. Again.

Lydia’s gasp caused his head to jerk up, an innocent expression pasted all over his guilty face. But instead of accusing him of ogling the wedding planner, his soon-to-be sister-in-law said excitedly, “You know what would be perfect? We should have our reception here. Just think! It would serve a dual purpose of celebrating our wedding and formally welcoming the Daltons to Rust Creek Falls.”

“I love it,” Vivienne gushed, before looking down at a text that popped up on her tablet. Unlike Zach and Lydia, who had stepped back and were too busy making googly eyes at each other and the derelict building, Cole was still right by Vivienne’s side and could easily see the message.

You better be getting more bookings while you’re there, or else. Her finger quickly swiped to hide the notification, but as soon as it was gone, a second one popped up. This time, there were no words. Just a row of dollar signs.

Luckily, he was able to look away right before she turned her head in his direction, probably hoping he hadn’t seen her boss’s directive. Even though his instincts had now been confirmed, there was something about the threat at the end that evoked just the smallest pang of sympathy.

Once, he’d had an old blowhard of a first sergeant who’d gotten in his face and cussed him up one side and down the other when he caught Cole helping another recruit clean the latrine. The dressing-down took place in front of the entire platoon, who all did their best to pretend nothing out of the ordinary was happening. So he was familiar with being embarrassed by high-handed bosses who never appreciated a job well-done. If only Estelle of Estelle’s Events could see that her employee was currently reeling in her clients hook, line and sinker.

Still. Someone had to look out for his brother and make sure nobody was taking advantage of the lovestruck groom. Cole couldn’t tamp down the need to remind the couple of the more practical side of things.

“I know you guys are thinking with your hearts right now, but maybe you should be thinking with your checking accounts.” Honestly, Cole had no idea what their budget was, but every time Vivienne had made a suggestion during the car ride over here, he’d been reminded of one of those bar-code scanning machines in the grocery store, each beep signaling a rising total.

“Like I said, I’m not sure how much it would cost to get the building fixed up, but if you’re not tearing it down, you’d likely be investing that much money into the place anyway to use it as a barn or a shed-thing or...whatever you would use it for on a ranch.” Vivienne was definitely a city girl, all right. Yet she didn’t let her lack of knowledge about cattle operations keep her from continuing on. “The table and chair rental will depend on what your final guest count is, but I have a vendor who includes linens and delivery and setup in the cost. Using a caterer is going to give you more flexibility with the menu than you might have at a restaurant or hotel. The flowers, the music, the cake and the photographer are all separate businesses you’d be hiring out anyway, so the location wouldn’t matter. If you give me a day or so, I can draw up a new budget for you with some projected prices, but based on my experience, it’ll be at least a few thousand dollars cheaper to have the reception here rather than using a formal venue.”

Wait. Did Vivienne just say cheaper? As in she was trying to save Zach and Lydia money? And the woman was smiling as if she was actually happy to take a cut on her commission. Assuming she was working off a commission. Cole had no idea how people were paid in her line of work or why anyone would ever need to hire a wedding planner in the first place. It wasn’t like it was a real job that required much effort.

His head spun at the whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and he tried to make sense of it all.

But when he saw his brother and Lydia walking around the space, eagerly talking about where they could put a dance floor and whether they should forgo a church ceremony and say their vows under the canopy of aspen trees outside, the weight of determination settled in Cole’s chest. The Daltons, or at least their branch of the family, hadn’t had anything to celebrate in a long time. So if having the party here gave Zach even a glimmer of happiness, then Cole was going to make sure the bride and groom had the biggest and best wedding the town of Rust Creek Falls had ever seen.

Chapter Four

Estelle was going to have a fit about their company doing a “cowboy” wedding, Vivienne thought to herself as she drove toward Rust Creek Falls on a Sunday morning three weeks later. But ever since she’d seen that beautiful brick freight house, her brain had been buzzing with all kinds of ideas and she hadn’t felt this motivated at work in a long time.

When Cole had made that comment about checking accounts and the cost of the Grant-Dalton wedding, Vivienne was certain that he’d seen Estelle’s text to her about locking in more wedding contracts while she was in Rust Creek Falls. Then, out of nowhere, he’d all of a sudden switched gears and was promising that they could have the buildings on the family’s new property ready within a month after closing.

The guy was a complete mystery to her. One minute, he was all stoic, chastising his brother for not having his cell phone on. The next minute, he was winking at her and calling her ma’am

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