Small towns, Danny thought. Gotta love them. Especially when you were hanging with a couple of very well-liked locals.
“So?” Jenny gave her a hip bump. “What do you think?”
She held up her hands. “This is your show. I’m just along for the ride.”
“Speaking of riding.” Shelby patted the mechanical bull with obvious affection. “How about taking a spin on Old Snortypants here?”
The usual plain, leather-covered slab of a mechanical bull had been taken up a few notches by the addition of a realistic-looking bull’s head, complete with fiery red eyes and a pair of wickedly pointed horns that flexed easily when she touched them, proving to be made of foam rubber, the head of stuffed plush. The upgrades didn’t stop there, either, with a tail at the back, foam-rubber legs hanging from each corner, tipped with fat cloven hooves that looked like they had been lovingly hand-stitched . . . and a pair of blue jeans hitched over its back legs for comic relief.
Tempting, Danny thought, lips curving, but figured she should really wait a couple of weeks—not because she needed the audience, alcohol, or music, but because Jenny and Shelby had assured her that dancing and riding the mechanical bull were the name of the game when it came to a cowgirl’s bachelorette party in Three Ridges. “Snortypants, huh?”
“He’s had a bunch of names through the years,” a new voice said from the other side of the room. “Snortypants is the latest, thanks to Dingle Reedy losing his jeans in a bet last summer.” A woman came through from a back room. Short and curvy, with bottle-red hair, high-heeled boots, and a pair of jeans that had probably taken a while to get into but sure made a statement, she was a sexy fortysomething with a wide smile. Making a beeline, she held out a hand. “You must be Danny! I’ve heard so much about you.”
“This is Bootsy,” Jenny put in as Danny found the handshake turning into a happy hug. “Owner of Bootsy’s Saddlery, and our local queen of style. Well, outside of Della, that is.”
Bootsy gave a breezy wave. “Dell is a genius with the vintage stuff, no question about it. But when it comes to the latest and greatest rodeowear, I’m your girl.”
“So . . .” Shelby let it draw out. “Did you get them?”
“Of course I did! I wouldn’t let you down.” Bootsy swept a hand to a nearby booth, where a couple of flat shipping boxes were stacked on the table. “Your wish is my command.”
“Ooh!” Jenny headed for the boxes. “Show us, show us!”
Not really sure what, exactly, was going to come out of those boxes—the girls had been closemouthed aside from divulging that Krista’s bachelorette party would kick off at the local steakhouse, where they would have dinner in a private room before heading for the Rope Burn—Danny followed the others and watched as Bootsy opened the first box and pulled out something white, fringed, and sparkly. “Voilà!”
Danny craned to see. “What is it?”
Jenny took the leather, snapped it open with a fringed flourish, and looped what proved to be a pair of snow-white chaps around her hips. She buckled the belt at her waist, zipped the wings, and announced, “They’re the tackiest rodeo princess chaps ever. And they’re perfect.”
The word BRIDE was painted along each leg in black-lined silver, and spelled out across the back of the belt in rhinestones.
Shelby whooped. “You can say that again! Krista is going to be horrified.”
And, Danny knew, she would love it, too—because her sister and best friend had arranged it for her, wanting her to be the star of the show.
“Don’t forget the hat.” Bootsy went into the second, bigger box and came up with a snow-white cowboy hat that trailed a pouf of veil in all directions, making it look like a bridal jellyfish.
“Nobody could forget that hat.” Shelby plopped it on Jenny’s head. “Now that’s making a statement!”
“Yeah,” Jenny agreed, striking a pose near Snortypants’s head. “Step back, cowboys. Here comes the bride!”
“Did you guys do stuff like this for your weddings?” Danny asked, laughing.
“No way.” Jenny’s headshake was emphatic. “Nick and I kept the whole deal pretty low-key. Me, Krista, and Shelby treated ourselves to a spa weekend instead of doing a bachelorette party, Nick had a few beers with his buddies, and we swapped vows up at Makeout Point and came back to the ranch for a barbecue.”
“It was fabulous,” Shelby put in. “Totally their style.”
And more like Danny’s. Not that she was looking at getting married anytime soon. “What about you and Foster?”
“We had our ceremony at his family’s ranch, the Double-Bar H. He had just bought it back and the renovations hadn’t gotten far, but it’s hard to beat the view. It was the second time around for both of us, and we didn’t want anything big and fancy.” Her lips curved. “Lizzie was my maid of honor, and Foster had the JP add a little piece, asking her to be his daughter. So all three of us got married, really.”
“That’s lovely.”
“I thought so. And very much our speed.” Shelby flicked the veil as it floated near her. “But now we’re changing gears and doing things a little differently, because our girl deserves to know she’s the star!”
“Krista was always the one who wanted to play wedding,” Jenny put in, handing the hat back to Bootsy. “Between Abby, the guests, and trying to keep things on an even keel with Mom, we’re afraid she’s not having much fun with the whole wedding thing at this point. So we want to make sure the bachelorette party is ridiculously entertaining.”
“Which brings us to . . .” Bootsy pulled out a stack of screaming pink cowgirl hats with spring-loaded antennae topped with sparkly hearts that bobbed and swung as she held one out to Shelby. “For the rest of the party.”
“Perfect!” She stuck one on her head and made a duck face. “How do I look?”
“Like a cross between a flamingo and a giant ant,” Jenny said, and whipped out her phone to snap a picture.
Shelby swatted at her. “No paparazzi allowed.” Turning to Danny, she tipped the silly hat at a rakish angle. “What do you think?”
“I think you look like you’re gearing up to have a ton of fun.”
“Then I’d say it’s mission accomplished!” She stripped off the hat and tossed it back to Bootsy. “Perfect. Every bit of it. You’ve got twenty of the pink hats?”
“Plus a few extras. A good bachelorette party always seems to gain a couple of people at the last minute. And this is going to be a good one.” She put the hat on, tipped it and posed, somehow managing to turn the antennae into a fashion statement rather than a joke. “I’ll bring these with me when I come out to the ranch, and we can load them in the shuttle. You still looking at five o’clock for the kidnapping?”
Danny raised a brow. “Kidnapping?”
Jenny’s grin turned wicked. “Did we forget to mention this is going to be a surprise party? We’re going to dress up like bandits, hit the trail ride on its way back to the ranch, grab Krista off her horse, and ride out to meet the shuttle, which’ll be waiting on the main road. We’ve got a suite at the Card Sharps’ Inn for the night, where we’ll have a shower, clean clothes, and a bottle of champagne waiting to get the night started off right.”
Shelby added, “We’ve got the guys in on it—they’ll make sure she’s out riding when and where we need her to be.”
Did it make Danny a bad person to envy a good friend for her other friends? “It sounds awesome. She’s going to love it.”
Something must have come through in her voice, even though she hadn’t meant it to, because Shelby bumped her with an elbow. “Hello? You’re totally riding with us. It wouldn’t be the Girl Zone without you!” And Jenny nodded emphatically.
Could it really be that simple? To Danny, coming from a world where respect and friendship were earned by how fast you made the summit and how many bruises you could take before y
ou complained, it seemed impossible. She was peripherally aware of Bootsy giving a little wave and heading for the kitchen. But mostly she was looking at her friends.
Friends. When had that become such a powerful word in her universe?
“Don’t look so surprised,” Jenny advised. “Like it or not, you’re one of us now. And no matter where you go, you’ll always have that to fall back on.”
“I don’t . . .” When her voice threatened to crack, she stopped and blew out a breath. Tried again. “Some days, when I’m sitting out at Blessing Valley or on Sam’s back deck and watching the sun set, I think about that day you called me out of the blue . . .” She had been feeling particularly low, alone in the store while her family cheered Charlie on, and found herself blurting out the whole story—about the accident, breaking up with Brandon, losing her nerve. “We barely knew each other, but the next thing I knew, you called back and told me to pick a Saturday and buy a ticket to Wyoming.” Her breath whistled out. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Poosh!” Jenny said, borrowing her gran’s favorite saying, which seemed to cover everything from You’re welcome for the biscuit to No biggie. All I did was throw you a lifeline. “Besides,” Jenny added, “We owe you for stepping up to work at the ranch. Did Krista tell you she’s already filled Eat from Nature Week for next year? The word is spreading.”
“And word of mouth is a wonderful thing,” Shelby added. Expression shifting, she glanced at Jenny and then back to Danny, and said, “Speaking of which . . . we had an ulterior motive for bringing you out here today.”
She blinked. “Oh?”
“Sit down.” Correctly reading Danny’s sudden uh-oh, Shelby said, “Don’t stress. It’s good. At least we think it’s good.”
When the three of them were tucked into a booth, with Danny on one side, Jenny and Shelby on the other, looking serious and hopeful, Jenny slid a piece of paper across the table—lined notepaper, with a numbered list written in her neat block printing.
Danny stared at it, seeing that the first line read: There are other dude ranches and B and Bs in the area looking to expand their offerings. “What’s this?” But a little shiver went through her, because she already knew.
Shelby folded her hands on the tabletop. “It’s the top five reasons we think you should stay in Three Ridges and start your own business.” She tapped the page.
Number four—they were counting backward—was We love you and we don’t want you to leave.
Emotion lumped in Danny’s throat. “You guys . . . I don’t know what to . . . Wow.” She blinked back the threat of tears, quick and unexpected. “Maybe. I don’t know. I love it here, but there’s my family to think about, and the store.” In Maine, where the trees were very close together.
“That’s your decision to make,” Jenny said. “But take it from the rebel Skye—the family business isn’t the right answer for everybody.”
“But Krista . . .”
“Will understand if you decide to go off on your own,” Shelby said firmly. “Sure, she’ll be sad. She might even get cranky, especially if she finds out before the wedding.” The corner of her mouth kicked up. “I’ll bet you a hundred bucks and a ride on Snortypants that she’s planning on asking you to stay on at the ranch. But . . .” She tapped the page. Number three was You’re going to outgrow Mustang Ridge. “You may not see it now, but it’ll happen sooner than you think, because . . .” Tap, tap. Number two was You really want to be your own boss.
Jenny leaned in. “Trust us on this one. If you’ve got a marketable skill set—which you do—and you’ve got the street smarts to run a business—check mark in that box, too—then you can make the life you want out here.”
“I think . . .” Danny scrubbed both hands over her face. “I can’t breathe.” Because maybe she’d been having some of those same thoughts—she hadn’t gone as far as a list, but she didn’t have much in the way of arguments against the idea, either. As much as she loved Krista and Mustang Ridge, she wanted something that was hers. She hadn’t fully admitted it, though, even to herself. Because that meant coming to grips with the fact that she was thinking about staying.
Oh, holy moly. She was really thinking about staying.
“That’s only reasons two through five,” she said, sounding about as shaky as she felt. “What’s number one?”
Triumphant, Shelby flipped the page to reveal a pen-sketched logo—the silhouette of a curly-haired woman standing on the apex of a craggy climb, with a big dog at her heels and a hawk in the sky above, surrounded by an arc that suggested the setting sun. Below it was the company name: WYOMING WALKABOUTS. And below that was their number one reason why she should stay and start her own business: Because we dare you.
* * *
When Sam and Yoshi crested the last low hill and Windfall came into view, the paint gelding tossed his head and bunched beneath his rider, itching to race for home.
“Easy there,” Sam chided, reining in the eager horse. “I know it’s past your dinnertime.” Then he saw a shadow move up on top of Wolf Rock, all curves and curls, and his body tightened. “Danny.”
It had been almost three days since he kissed her good-bye and rode out to Misty Hills. Maybe he hadn’t missed her every single one of those sixty-some hours, but he’d sure thought of her plenty. And seeing as how she was waiting for him up on Wolf Rock, he had a feeling that went both ways. He lifted his hat and gave it a wide sweep, and got a wave in return. And even though it was breaking the Cowboy Code not to walk his horse the last mile in, he clucked. “Come on, big guy. Let’s go home.”
A few minutes later, with Yoshi blowing lightly and tugging at the bridle, he reined up at the base of Wolf Rock, saddle aches falling away at the sight of Danny waving down at him. “Welcome home!” she called. “Hang on, I’ll be right down!”
“No, stay there. I’m coming up.” He hopped upright onto his saddle like Yoshi was a surfboard, caught the free end of the knotted rope, and used it to walk himself up the side of the big stone.
“You . . . Oh!” She clapped a hand over her mouth to hold in a happy laugh. “What about your horse?”
“He’ll be okay for a minute. Long enough for me to do this.” He reached the summit, tossed the rope, took her in his arms, and kissed her.
Lips. Curves. Sweet fire. He feasted on her, filled himself with her, feeling like he’d been away for weeks, not just a few days. His body heated and hardened, and it was all he could do not to take her there, on the top of Wolf Rock.
Instead, reining himself in the way he had tugged on Yoshi a mile ago, he eased the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Really? I couldn’t tell.” Her smile was impudent, her cheeks flushed.
“Were you waiting long?”
She shook her head. “Foster saw you on the high trail, and took a guess when you’d get here. I thought it would be fun to come up here and wave you in like Gran and the others do when the riders return to Mustang Ridge.” She leaned against him and looked out over the undulating grasslands to the mountains he had come from. “I was right.”
“It’s a good tradition.” One he wouldn’t mind continuing. As soon as the thought surfaced, a big part of him went, Whoa, wait, since when? But it was more a reflex than anything, and quickly lost ground to the feel of her curves against his body, her hair tickling his jaw. “Stay,” he said, “enjoy the view. Or go in and grab a drink, whatever you like. I’m going to get Yoshi settled for the night, jump in the shower, and then take you out to dinner. And”—he leaned in to give her a mock-stern look—“there’s going to be a tablecloth involved, whether you like it or not.”
She grinned. “Are you saying I’m lowbrow?”
He kissed her again, because he couldn’t be in range of her and not want to have his lips on her, his hands on her. “Give me ten minutes?”
She nodd
ed, but as he turned away and reached for the rope, she touched his arm. “Wait. Before you go, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“That sounds serious.” He straightened, got a look at her expression, and felt his own face fall. “It looks serious, too.” A big old oh, hell punched him in the gut. The summer was winding down and her confidence was ramping up. The next stop in the progression was for her to spread her wings and fly.
Don’t go, he wanted to say, but he didn’t have the right. Instead, he took her hands, twined their fingers together, and squeezed. “What is it?”
She centered her weight as if getting ready to run a hang glider off the edge of a cliff. “I’m thinking of staying in Three Ridges.”
He was so prepared for I’m leaving that it took a three-count for that to sink in.
She rushed on. “I love it here. I love the mountains, the people, the work I’ve been doing . . . I’m thinking of starting my own business, in fact, expanding on it. Hiking, rafting, climbing, maybe even fossil hunting and prospecting. I’ve already got Krista, Jenny, and Shelby on board.” Her eyes searched his face. “This isn’t because of you and me, I swear . . . but I’d like you to be okay with the idea.”
“You’re not leaving.” The words came out rough and ragged.
Nerves flashed in her eyes, but she held her ground. “I haven’t decided for sure, but I’m leaning that way. I know we got together thinking I was just passing through, but—”
“You’re not leaving!” He shouted it from Wolf Rock, hearing the words echo from the upper levels of the house, as he swept her up in his arms and spun her like he had at the dance.
She laughed up at him. “So I guess you’re okay with it.”
He drew her close, kissed her. Said against her lips, “I’m not ready to say good-bye.” It was as close as he’d ever gotten to declaring himself to a woman, as far as he intended to go. And maybe his luck had finally changed when it came to women, because it seemed like it was enough for her.
Face alight, she leaned into the kiss. “Then let’s not say good-bye. Let’s put Yoshi away and hop in the shower. That was the plan, right?”
Firelight at Mustang Ridge Page 17