Page 15 of Her Jolly Cowboy
Luke is still asleep, one arm flung over the spot I vacated, sheet riding low enough to show the V of muscle that makes my mouth water. I force myself to look away and bolt before I do something stupid like crawl back in and beg him to ruin me all over again.
The ranch is chaos in the best way. Trucks unloading floral arrangements, cousins hauling coolers of champagne, Frankie running around in Rhett’s flannel and cowboy boots like a caffeinated fairy. I dive in headfirst with my clipboard and headset, zero personal feelings allowed.
I do not avoid Luke exactly. I just never quite manage to be in the same area as him.
I’m adjusting the placement of the ceremony arch when I spot him across the yard, laughing with a group of groomsmen. He’s wearing a black Henley that should be illegal and a smile that makes my knees weak. Our eyes meet for half a second. He starts toward me.
I turn on my heel and power-walk into the barn like my life depends on it.
Coward…thy name is Holly.
The morning dissolves into a blur of final touches. I play seating chart Tetris, handle sound-check disasters, and handle last-minute dietary substitutions. By noon, I’m running on caffeine and adrenaline, exactly how I like it.
I’m in the farmhouse kitchen, double-checking the rehearsal-dinner menu, when the front door bangs open and a voice like honey over gravel says, “Luke Carson, you get your fine ass over here and hug me.”
I look up and my stomach drops straight through the floorboards.
The woman standing in the doorway is tall, tanned, and built like a Victoria’s Secret angel who moonlights as a rodeo queen.Dark blonde hair in perfect waves, legs for days in painted-on jeans, red flannel tied high enough to show a navel ring. She launches herself at Luke, who has just walked in, and he catches her out of reflex, arms around her waist as she wraps around him like ivy.
“Missed you, baby,” she says, loud enough for the entire room to hear.
Baby.
I grip my pen so hard it snaps.
Luke sets her down fast, hands on her shoulders to keep distance. “Lauren, I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Couldn’t miss Rhett’s big day.” She smiles up at him, all white teeth and history. “Besides, someone has to check on you. Heard you’ve been keeping real interesting company.”
Her eyes slide to me like she already knew exactly where I was standing.
Frankie appears at my elbow, voice low. “That’s Lauren Hayes, the ranch’s next-door neighbor. Dated Luke for two years in high school, another year after college. Everyone thought they’d get married.”
Of course they did.
Luke’s jaw is tight. “Lauren, this is Holly Jameson. Wedding planner.”
Lauren turns the full wattage of her smile on me. “Oh, I’ve heard all about you.” She looks me up and down, at my filthy boots, jeans, and messy knot of hair. Her smile sharpens. “Cute.”
I want to die.
Luke steps between us like a shield. “Lauren, rehearsal starts in an hour. You’re sitting with the rest of the Hayes family.”
Lauren laughs, bright and fake. “Yes, sir.” She reaches up, brushes imaginary lint off his shoulder, fingers lingering. “See you tonight, baby.”
She saunters out, hips swinging. The kitchen goes dead silent. I realize I’m shaking.
Luke turns to me, voice low. “Holly—”
“I have to check the string lights,” I blurt, and bolt before he can finish.
I spend the rest of the afternoon hiding in plain sight. Directing centerpieces, timing the quartet, triple-checking the heat lamps. Every time Luke gets within ten feet, I find a new emergency that requires my immediate attention.
By five o’clock, I’m a raw nerve. I’m on a ladder adjusting the fairy lights over the head table when I hear boots on rungs below me.
“Holly.”
I don’t look down. “Busy.”
