Page 1 of Her Jolly Cowboy
Chapter one
Holly
I pull my white Range Rover up the snowy drive of Brush Creek Ranch exactly twenty-three minutes ahead of schedule, which is basically a miracle considering Montana apparently thinks road signs aren’t necessary.
The ranch is beautiful. Snow dusting the evergreens, red barns trimmed in white lights that are still glowing faintly in the late-morning sun, a massive wreath on the farmhouse door big enough to walk through. It looks like a holiday movie set.
I kill the engine, grab my planner, and step out in heeled boots that cost more than most people’s rent. The cold hits like a slap, but I refuse to shiver. I am Holly Jameson. I do not shiver.
Frankie, looking radiant, wearing Rhett’s flannel like it’s couture, meets me on the porch before I can knock. She throws her arms around me and squeals.
“You made it! I was scared the pass would close!”
“Not even God himself is messing with this timeline,” I tell her, hugging back. “I have contingencies for avalanches.”
Rhett appears behind her, tall, quiet, and stupidly in love with his fiancée. He tips his hat. “Holly. Good to see you. Luke’saround here somewhere if you need anything moved, lifted, or generally wrangled.”
I arch a brow. “Luke?”
“My little brother,” Rhett says, mouth twitching. “He’s always helpful.”
Frankie snorts. “He’s a walking disaster in Wranglers, but he’s harmless. Mostly.”
I make a note in my planner: Locate Luke. Assess threat level.
We do a quick walk-through of the main house so I can confirm guest-room assignments, catering staging, and the exact placement of the wedding cake. Frankie is giddy, Rhett keeps stealing kisses like he’s afraid she’ll vanish, and everything is perfect.
Until item thirty-seven on my list: inspect the barn.
I’m halfway across the yard, boots crunching, when the devil himself saunters out of the smaller barn.
Dark hair curling under a beat-up Stetson. Flannel rolled to the elbows despite the cold. Shoulders that could block out the sun. And a grin that says he’s already decided I’m the most entertaining thing to happen to this ranch in years.
“Morning, ma’am,” he drawls, voice low and warm enough to melt snow. “You must be the one turning my brother’s wedding into a damn magazine shoot.”
I stop two feet away and look him up and down like I’m pricing livestock. “And you must be Luke. Rhett said you’d be at my disposal.”
His grin widens. “All yours, Boss Lady. Just say the word.”
“Holly Jameson,” I say, offering a hand like we’re civilized humans. “Wedding planner.”
He takes my hand. His palm is warm, rough, and twice the size of mine. He doesn’t shake it, he holds on, thumb brushing my knuckles once like he’s testing the weight of me.
I pull my hand back before I do something stupid like moan. “Can I see the barn now? I need to check sight lines and heater placement.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He falls into step beside me, hands in his pockets, whistling “Jingle Bells” off-key.
The barn is perfect with vaulted beams dripping with pine garland, fairy lights waiting to be hung, and stacks of vintage chairs wrapped in burlap. I can see it finished in my head. I spin slowly, mentally measuring.
Luke leans against a post, arms crossed, watching me like I’m the best show in town.
“Problem?” I ask without turning.
“Just enjoyin’ the view.”
I roll my eyes. “Focus, Carson. We have six days and a blizzard in the forecast.”
