by Caro Carson
Undercover Cowboy
RUST CREEK RAMBLINGS
Greetings, merry readers! As the holidays approach in Rust Creek Falls, we are marveling at the number of couples who have been brought together by this summer’s infamous wedding punch. And then there is Kristen Dalton, our town’s resident actress/romantic. Since July, she has been pining over the “perfect cowboy,” Ryan, whom she met at the wedding. But he left town soon after—for good, or so we thought.
Now Ryan has returned, and folks are betting he and Kristen will be engaged before we can hang the holly. Not so fast, romantic revelers! Our out-of-town cowboy may not be exactly as advertised. Will they still meet under the mistletoe when Kristen finds out who Ryan really is?
The Cowboy.
Her heart thudded in her chest. Another one of those giddy waves of joy passed through her, even as the lump in her throat returned. The Cowboy! She’d wished for him and he was here, so soon after she’d made her personal vow that she could hardly believe he was real.
Yet there he was, a man she’d never seen before, holding the bridle and calming the lead horse. The Cowboy—her cowboy—was the most physically appealing man she’d ever seen. Tall, dark and handsome barely began to describe him, inadequate to cover the physical confidence he possessed, that aura of calm and control about him as he talked with the other men and kept the horse calm at the same time.
Who are you?
He looked right at her, as if he’d heard her ask the question. Right at her. Over the nose of the white horse, across the dozen people who milled between them, their gazes met and held.
Across the crowd, they shared a slow smile. If it was true that like attracted like, then she and this man sure were alike. When people said “two peas in a pod” to Kristen, they were invariably referring to her twin, but on this special summer day, Kristen knew that she and this man were a match, too. That smile said it all.
* * *
MONTANA MAVERICKS: WHAT HAPPENED AT THE WEDDING?
A weekend Rust Creek Falls will never forget!
Dear Reader,
“So, what’s your new book about?” You’d think I’d have an easy answer, but I get stuck. I could say it’s about a man and woman falling in love, but as every reader knows, romances are about so much more. For the book you’re holding now, I think the story is about assumptions. Kristen Dalton and Ryan Roarke (aka Ryan Michaels!) are wearing rose-colored glasses when they meet, and they make too many assumptions about one another as they fall in love.
Don’t we all do the same? We assume certain types of people belong in certain careers. We assume small towns or big cities attract certain types, that people must be content with their lives, or that people must have greater ambitions. When their rose-colored glasses finally come off, Kristen and Ryan might just find that despite all the wrong assumptions, they’ve managed to fall in love with the right person!
This holiday season, I’m trying not to assume too much. I asked my family which traditions were the most loved, and it turns out I’ve been assuming they wanted me to bake more and cook more than they really did. This year, I’m only baking what we all truly want. I hope this makes the holiday less stressful and more fun—and still delicious!
I’d love to hear from you. You can drop me a private note through carocarson.com, or find me on Facebook or Twitter: @TheCaroCarson.
Cheers,
Caro Carson
The Maverick’s Holiday Masquerade
Caro Carson
Despite a no-nonsense background as a West Point graduate and US Army officer, Caro Carson has always treasured the happily-ever-after of a good romance novel. Now a double RITA® Award-nominated author, Caro is delighted to be living her own happily-ever-after with her husband and two children in the great state of Florida, a location that has saved the coaster-loving theme-park fanatic a fortune on plane tickets.
Books by Caro Carson
Harlequin Special Edition
Texas Rescue
Following Doctor’s Orders
A Texas Rescue Christmas
Not Just a Cowboy
The Doctors MacDowell
The Bachelor Doctor’s Bride
The Doctor’s Former Fiancée
Doctor, Soldier, Daddy
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
For my parents, Larry and Sue, with gratitude for all the plays and ballets, the Broadway musicals and the rock concerts, and for setting the example by pursuing their passion for the theater. This theater-loving heroine had to be for you!
Contents
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
Excerpt from A Cowboy for Christmas by Rachel Lee
Chapter One
Fourth of July
“Do you see them?”
Kristen Dalton shaded her eyes with one hand as she looked up the road, but she couldn’t see any hint of a horse-drawn carriage. “Sorry, sis. No sign of the bride and groom yet.”
“I can’t wait to see her wedding dress. The rumors have been all over the place. I’ve heard everything from country casual to Kardashian craziness.”
Anything could be true. Although Kristen and her sister lived in a small town surrounded by ranches, technology made the world itself a small place. Even to the far northern edge of Montana, a gown from glittering Hollywood could be shipped overnight. Since the wedding dress possibilities were endless, the speculation around town had been, as well. For weeks, Kristen had been patiently listening to her twin, Kayla, list the pros and cons of every type of gown. Although today was the Fourth of July, her twin’s excitement was closer to that of a kid on Christmas morning.
Kristen handed her sister her paper cup, then hopped up to perch on the top log of the split-rail fence that bordered the town park. She held out her hands for her cup and Kayla’s. “Come sit with me. It could be a while. That photographer has to take pictures of a million Traub family members at the church.”
Kayla climbed up to sit beside her on the railing, settling in for the wait. “What a beautiful day for their wedding.”
Kristen thought it was a little too warm, nearly eighty degrees, which was as hot as things got this close to Glacier National Park. As she handed back Kayla’s cup, Kristen took a healthy drink of her ice-cold wedding punch.
Thank goodness they’d decided to wear sundresses. They didn’t match, of course. She and Kayla looked as identical as two peas in a pod, a phrase Kristen had been hearing for as long as she could remember, but they hadn’t dressed like twins for as long as they’d been choosing their own clothes. From a distance, she supposed they looked like twins in blue dresses, but up close, they weren’t alike at all.
Kayla’s dress had an all-over print of tiny flowers. Her spaghetti straps were delicate, and she wore their grandmother’s earrings. The shiny fili
gree drops were shown to their advantage on Kayla because she swept her hair up most of the time.
No one would ever see those earrings if Kristen wore them, because her hair was nearly always down. And long. And wavy. And—okay, I’ll admit it, Mom—always blowing in the Montana breeze and getting tangled. Their mother had despaired of keeping it neat and had given up trying somewhere around kindergarten, when Kristen had become quite adept at removing barrettes and bows.
Kristen could also admit that she’d deliberately worn blue because it made her eyes appear their bluest. Her denim halter dress always made her feel like she struck the right balance between sweet and sexy. She got smiles from the town’s mavens and mavericks both. Rather than sandals, she wore her western boots. Not the solid, broken-in ones that she wore to do chores around the family ranch, but the ones with the hand-scrolled swirls in the leather. These were the boots she wore for two-stepping, waltzing and square dancing, all of which she hoped to do before, during and after tonight’s fireworks.
All she needed was the right cowboy to dance with.
If only...
If only there was a cowboy here in Rust Creek Falls that she didn’t already know—and already know wasn’t her type.
“I really admire Braden and Jennifer for thinking up this carriage ride,” her sister said. “Their first experience as Mr. and Mrs. Traub will be private, just the two of them, as they start their journey together, figuratively, literally—”
“Briefly.” Kristen nudged her in the shoulder. “The church is only two blocks away. Then we’ll be right here, ready to say hi while we’re really checking out the newest Mrs. Traub’s gown.”
Kayla shot her a look. “We’re supposed to admire the bride’s gown. It’s expected.”
“I know, I know. It’ll be worth the wait, I’m sure.”
“They say the best things in life are.” Kayla sounded like she really meant that.
Kristen kicked the heels of her boots against the lower log railing. Thunk, thunk. She polished off the rest of her punch, then lifted her heavy hair from the back of her warm neck again. Thunk, thunk. “I hope this carriage looks amazing, because it certainly isn’t a very fast way to travel.”
Kayla nudged her shoulder. “I heard Sutter Traub located true white horses, and they went to someone’s place south of Kalispell to borrow a two-seater surrey. Paige and Lindsay bought miles of white ribbon for it and were making bows all week.”
“Wow,” Kristen said, impressed at the wealth of details her sister knew. Kristen had only heard that the bride and groom were going to arrive at the park by carriage. “You’ve got wedding fever worse than anyone else in town, and that’s saying something, considering the entire town is here for the reception.”
Kristen stopped thudding her heels against the cross rail; even a twin might get annoyed at the rhythmic thumping, even an identical twin who understood Kristen’s restless nature better than anyone else in the world. Squinting against the bright July sun, she joined Kayla in staring silently down Buckskin Road, past their old high school. Every kid in Rust Creek Falls had been educated there. Every kid still was. Some things in this small town never changed, and that was fine with Kristen.
She’d gone to the University of Montana, majored in theater and spent a summer as an unpaid intern in New York City. Like Dorothy in a pair of ruby red slippers—a role she’d played onstage at the university—she’d realized there was no place like home. Cities were great fun to visit, but the tiny town of Rust Creek Falls under the big sky of Montana was home. It always had been. It always would be.
Small didn’t mean boring. Things were always changing. Their local politics could make the national scene appear tame, but everyone had pulled together to rebuild after a flood had wiped out a substantial portion of the town just a couple of years ago. Old Bledsoe’s Folly, an abandoned mountain retreat, was now an upscale resort that had the town buzzing with talk about developing the area’s first ski slope.
But it was the people of Rust Creek Falls that were the most interesting. There must be something about Montana’s famous Big Sky, because lots of folks who’d come to help with the flood recovery or to turn Bledsoe’s Folly into Maverick Manor had ended up staying, partnered up after falling in love in Kristen’s hometown.
She glanced up at that blue sky now, automatically scanning the horizon for planes—for a certain plane. It was a habit she’d formed earlier this year, when she’d thought the blue sky was bringing her true love to her. The handsome pilot of a commuter airline had turned out to be a heartbreaker of the lowest kind. Like a sailor with a girl in every port, he’d had a woman at every airport. Kristen still felt like an idiot for falling for him.
She got another shoulder nudge from her sister. “Does he fly into Kalispell on weekends now?”
Leave it up to quiet Kayla to never miss a detail, not even a glance at the sky.
Kristen wrinkled her nose. “I don’t care what Captain Two-Timer does or where he flies or who he tells lies to after he lands.”
“Or to whom he tells lies after he lands.”
“You should be a writer, you know.” Kristen resumed her rail-thumping. “I don’t care ‘to whom’ he lies. It isn’t to me, not anymore. ‘Gee, I wish I didn’t have to go. I won’t be able to call you for a few days. You know I’d rather be with you, but this job is so demanding.’ I was an idiot. I can’t believe I couldn’t see through him.”
“You were in love.”
“I’m not anymore.” She tossed her hair back. “I’m in the mood to dance. I’m hoping for a handsome stranger or two to flirt with, but I’m not going to fall in love again.”
“Not ever?”
“Not for a long while. Definitely not today.”
Kayla didn’t say anything for long seconds.
Kristen stopped looking for the carriage when she realized her sister was staring at her, not at the road. “What?”
“You shouldn’t dare the universe to prove you wrong like that.”
“Stop that. You’re giving me goose bumps.” Kristen jumped down from the fence, an easy drop of two feet at most, but somehow she stumbled and nearly fell. She was normally as nimble as a cat, and this sudden imbalance struck her as—funny? Yes, it was funny. It was good to giggle after that serious moment. “You stay here on carriage watch. I’ll go get us some more punch. Give me your cup.”
When Kayla reached down to hand her the cup, she slipped, too, and fell right into Kristen. They dissolved into giggles together, for no reason at all.
“What do you suppose is in that punch?” Kristen asked. “We only had one cup.”
“I don’t know, but stay here with me. Just look down that road and wait for true love to come our way.”
* * *
Ryan Roarke parked his red Porsche in between two sturdy pickup trucks. The high-performance sports car belonged in Los Angeles, but this wasn’t LA. In fact, Ryan had come to Montana to get away from Los Angeles. When he’d directed his assistant to reserve a luxury rental vehicle at the Glacier Park airport, he’d expected to be handed the keys to his usual Land Rover or an Audi fitted with a ski rack, the kind of rental he drove when he visited his brother in a different part of Montana, the upscale ski resort of Thunder Canyon.
This was July, however, and the roads were clear of snow, so the clerk had been enthusiastic when she’d handed him the keys to the Porsche. Ryan had attempted to return her smile when he wanted to grimace.
He grimaced now. Pulling into the packed dirt of the parking spaces at the edge of Rust Creek Falls’ park in a Porsche was not what he’d had in mind for the weekend. The flashy car was so inappropriate for this rugged town, it made him look like he was having a midlife crisis. Ryan killed the powerful engine and got out, feeling like a giant at six-foot-one next to the low car. He returned the stares from a few cowboys w
ith a hard look of his own.
Ryan knew what a midlife crisis looked like—too many of his fellow attorneys blew their children’s inheritances on sports cars in an effort to replace their children’s mothers with starlets—but he didn’t know what one felt like. He was not having a midlife crisis. He was only thirty-three, for starters, and a confirmed bachelor. He wasn’t trying to appear more wealthy or powerful or attractive to women than he already was.
As the second generation of well-known attorneys in Los Angeles, Ryan already owned the sports cars, the Rolex, the hand-tailored suits. Physical intimidation had a subliminal effect even in a courtroom, and Ryan kept himself in fighting shape by boxing with exclusive trainers and surfing on exclusive beaches. When it came to young, blonde starlets finding him attractive, he didn’t even have to try.
This was definitely not a midlife crisis.
So why am I standing in the smallest of towns in a landlocked state more than one thousand miles away from home?
He was supposed to be on a yacht, slowly getting sloshed with his fellow millionaires, drinking top-shelf mojitos while waiting for the sun to set over the Pacific and for the city of Los Angeles to blow an obscene amount of money on a fireworks display worthy of a Hollywood movie. One Laker Girl, in particular, was quite upset he’d canceled those plans. But the government had closed the courts of law on Friday for the holiday weekend, and for the past two years, whenever Ryan found himself with a chance to take a few days off, he’d found himself taking those days off in Montana.
The reason he’d first set foot in Big Sky Country was his brother. Shane Roarke had gained fame as a celebrity chef, a man whose dynamic personality and culinary skill had combined to give him the keys to the world. Shane had opened restaurants all over that world, but when it came to choosing one place to live, he’d chosen Montana.
Shane, like Ryan, was adopted. Shane had found his birth family in Thunder Canyon. He’d found a pair of half brothers, a baker’s dozen of cousins—and the love of his life. She’d been working right under his nose at his own restaurant in the Thunder Canyon resort.