by Deb Kastner
Matthew watched as Riley finished off the one piece of pizza she’d taken, nibbling at the corners like a bird, as if that made her appear more refined.
There was nothing about this evening that could be classified as being even remotely refined. Nobody could consume pizza as if they were eating at a five-star restaurant. Not even Riley.
She’d been suspiciously quiet since she’d returned his shirt to him, although she tossed him a gaze from time to time. He was relieved to be able to put his shirt back on, even if there were damp spots in the fabric. It was a little bit itchy, but at least it was clean.
While he was waiting for Riley to finish her meal, he texted his cousin Declan, asking him if he was free tomorrow to photograph the wedding.
Declan wasn’t a professional photographer. He was a carpenter. But he spent weekends and holidays behind the lens of a camera and had even had some of his work displayed at an art gallery in Denver once.
Most of his photos were of landscapes he’d taken while hiking in the Rocky Mountains, but that didn’t matter, did it?
A picture was a picture was a picture.
“Declan?” Riley asked, nodding toward his cell phone when a bell notified him that he had received a text message.
“Yes. Declan is my cousin. I’m hoping he’ll be able to help us with the photography.”
“Awesome. That would be one less thing to worry about.”
Matthew pulled up the text message and frowned.
“He can’t make it?” Riley asked.
“No. It’s not that. He’s free. But he doesn’t think he can do it.”
Matthew punched the call button for Declan’s number and turned on the speakerphone so Riley could hear the conversation.
“Hey, dude, what’s up?” Declan’s rich tenor reverberated in the air. “It’s been awhile, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Matthew agreed. It was his own fault. Even with his family, he felt like a loner, so he avoided most holiday get-togethers and reunions. “Just to let you know, I’ve got you on speakerphone. My--” he stumbled over the word, “friend Riley is here with me.”
“Hi Declan,” Riley said cheerfully.
“Um, hi,” Declan replied.
Little shy, Matthew mouthed, and Riley smiled and nodded.
“Hey, listen,” Matthew continued, deciding to drive straight to the point. They didn’t have much time to solidify all of their plans, and if Declan wasn’t going to work out, they needed to know as soon as possible, so they could search for another solution. “Like I said in my text message, my best friend Brady is getting married tomorrow and the photographer bailed out at the last minute.”
Matthew had decided to keep things simple for now, rather than get into all of the complicated details.
“Wow. That’s tough,” Declan replied.
“We’re in desperate need of a replacement photographer, and I immediately thought of you. You’ve got a decent camera and shoot photos most weekends, right?”
“Well, yes, but--”
Matthew heard the hesitation in his cousin’s voice and his gut clenched. He wasn’t kidding about being desperate. They needed this to work.
Please, Lord. Just let something go right this time.
“You’d be saving our lives here,” he pressed. “You said you’re free tomorrow, right?”
“Well, yes, but--” Declan said again.
This time Matthew didn’t interrupt him. Instead, he pulled a harsh breath of air into his lungs and waited for Declan to continue.
“Here’s the thing. My photographs? They’re all still life. Landscapes. I’ve never done people before.”
“No wildlife?” Riley asked, cutting into the conversation. “Birds?”
“Lately I’ve been working on capturing wildlife, but I’m definitely no expert.”
“If you can photograph a bird, I don’t think a wedding will present much of a challenge,” Matthew suggested. “Everyone moves painstakingly slow during the ceremony.”
He groaned internally as he remembered just how true that was.
“And afterwards it’s all posed pictures of the wedding party,” Riley said. “Still life, only with people. Should be a breeze.”
“I don’t know . . .”
The hesitation remained, but now there was a hint of something else.
Matthew lifted his gaze and met Riley’s. She smiled and nodded encouragingly. Then she made a thrust and turn gesture and mouthed, “Go in for the kill.”
Despite all the stress of the moment, Matthew nearly broke into laughter.
Riley was nothing if not unpredictable.
“You’d be saving my life, cuz,” he coaxed.
Declan blew out an audible breath.
“Okay. I’ll do it. But I’m warning you—my photographs may not look quite as professional as the bride and groom had hoped for.”
“Believe me, they will be overjoyed to have a photographer,” Matthew assured him. “And besides, I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”
“Thanks for that.”
“Listen. I’ve got to go, buddy. Lots of last minute details still on our agenda. But I really, really appreciate you stepping up for us. We’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
Riley held up her hand for a high-five as Matthew ended the call.
He lifted a brow.
A high-five? Really?
But so much excitement gleamed from her eyes that he reluctantly lifted his hand and clapped it against hers, and then pounded it when she pulled her hand into a fist.
He did not—would not—wiggle his fingers and make a whooshing sound like she did.
What were they? Twelve?
***
Now that she and Matthew were working together and were no longer at odds with each other—at least for the present moment--Riley was beginning to enjoy the process.
She loved organizing, and things were starting to come together. All of the bridesmaids and groomsmen had Christmas decorations they could borrow, and one of the groomsmen had a sound system he was willing to loan out to them.
They’d even started a playlist for the wedding and reception, downloading a string quartet’s album for the wedding, along with the best organ version of the bridal march they could find. They were also working on a variety of genres of dance music for the reception, everything from country line dances to the latest pop hits.
The bride and groom had already made their song choices for their first dance and the dad and daughter dance. After that, it was just a matter of going around the room and asking everyone to contribute their favorite songs.
Piece of cake.
“Cake,” Riley squealed, causing Matthew to jerk upright. He’d been programming songs into her cell phone and her sudden exclamation had come out of nowhere.
“What?” His gaze widened on her.
“Cake. We forgot about the wedding cake.”
“I didn’t forget,” said the now smirking man who’d sworn he would be worthless helping to plan a wedding. “I just thought we were taking things in order, working on the wedding first and then the reception.”
She gestured toward her cell phone, which Matthew still held in his hand. “We’re segueing.”
“It’s too late in the day to call the local bakery or even those in surrounding towns. All the shops will be closed by now.”
“I know,” Riley agreed, stress once again hovering over her like a storm cloud. It was amazing how quickly the mood turned from night to day and back again. “And honestly, the chance of finding someone with a wedding cake on standby is slim to none.”
“Maybe we can get someone to bake something homemade. It doesn’t have to be a wedding cake, exactly. Maybe a dry mix someone already has in their pantry.”
“What, like cupcakes?”
“It’s not a bad idea.”
Riley sighed. Yes, it was.
“Does anyone bake in here?” Matthew called, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear him.
; “I do.”
The surprise declaration came from Chelsea. She lifted her chin and looked Riley right in the eye, daring her to say otherwise.
Riley knew Chelsea enjoyed baking, but—
“This is your wedding. And your wedding cake,” Riley protested.
“All the more reason why I should be the one to make it. Brady can help me. We’ve already got the cute little Bride and Groom cake topper. The rest will be—cake,” she added with a giggle.
Matthew snorted. “Brady is going to help you bake a cake. I’m not seeing it. You do know what he does for a living, right?”
“Hey, now,” Brady protested. “Just because I wrangle cattle doesn’t mean I can’t frost a cake.”
Good on him, Riley thought. Brady was really stepping up for Chelsea, and they both looked determined to make this wedding work, no matter what.
Riley turned back to Matthew. “We don’t have any catering lined up. What do you think we should do about food for the reception?”
Matthew stroked his stubbled jaw, something Riley now associated with him being deep in thought.
“I guess that depends on where we hold the reception. Did we all decide this was going to be a low-key thing?”
“I don’t see where we have any other choice, since all of Chelsea and Brady’s money is tied up in what sounds to me may be an eventual bankruptcy.”
“Yeah. Probably.” Matthew handed the phone back to her. “The playlist is finished. It’s not surprising, really, given that we’re in eastern Colorado, but almost the entire list is made up of country songs.”
If Riley had been a cartoon, a light bulb would have suddenly appeared over her head.
“Why don’t we go with that?”
“What? The playlist?”
“Well, yes, there’s that. But I meant a country theme. I had been thinking of trying to visit sub shops from here to Denver to get enough food for the guests, but that’s kind of tacky for a wedding, and I think you may be on to something better.”
One side of his mouth kicked up. “Enlighten me.”
“What about hometown country cooking? I’m sure if we hit up every deli in the area we can get enough fried chicken, baked beans, potato salad and macaroni salad to feed the troops. We can serve it buffet style on pretty paper plates.”
“Sounds more like a church picnic.”
She cocked her head at him. “You have a better idea?”
He obviously didn’t, since he clamped his mouth shut. But a moment later he held up a finger as an idea flashed across his gaze.
“Why don’t I see if I can wrangle Cookie from the K-Bar-W ranch where I work to help us cook and serve. Fried chicken is his specialty.”
“Perfect. Tell him to dress the part.”
“He’ll love that.”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
He snorted. “Actually, no. Cookie is a ham. He likes to play up his role to the hilt. Even though he has a full, modern kitchen in our barracks, he acts as if he’s cooking out of the back of a chuck wagon.”
“Sounds like a fun guy.”
“And maybe exactly what we need, don’t you think?”
“Okay, then,” Riley said, knowing they needed to move along quickly. “Hometown catering with a Country Christmas themed reception. Cookie is the caterer. Now we are really getting somewhere. As far as location, I thought about having it here at the church in the fellowship hall, but that doesn’t feel quite right, and it would be kind of cramped, especially for dancing. So—here’s another big question. Where would a country-themed reception take place?”
“In a barn,” they said simultaneously. His deep, rumbling laugh met her high twitter.
They were both joking, of course, but then an idea popped into her head. It was a longshot, but it was almost crazy enough to work.
And hadn’t she just been praying about a way to approach her brother and reconcile with him?
“What?” he asked, clearly confused by the change in her expression.
“I may have a barn we could use. Nothing that would take the country theme a step too far animal-wise or odor-wise. If I remember correctly, this barn was only ever used to store hay and old tack. All we would have to do is sweep the floor, put up a few Christmas wreaths and maybe a tree or two, set up hay bales around the perimeter for guests to sit on, and borrow tables and chairs from the church to set up for the dinner portion of the evening. Guests could help us take them down and put them aside afterwards for the dance.”
“That’s all?” he teased.
“Hey, I’m on a roll, here.”
“Sounds promising.”
Her heart fell. “Possibly. Or maybe not so much. It’s complicated.”
He frowned in concern and rubbed a palm across her shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
She pulled in a breath and held it for a moment, knowing she was about to plunge right back into No Man’s Land, into a subject she’d been prudently trying to avoid all evening.
“Yeah. It’s hard for me to talk about. You see, the barn I’m thinking about is located on the Weaver ranch, Bar W.”
As she expected, the sound of her last name caused a spark of anger to cross through his eyes and his nostrils flared.
He pressed his lips into a hard line, presumably to keep himself from letting loose and blowing up on her.
“It’s a good idea.”
He didn’t sound enthusiastic about the possibility, but then, she hadn’t expected him to. Not with the as-yet-unnamed, invisible elephant in the room.
“Yeah, that’s the complication.” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. She hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to talk about this. “I don’t even know if the barn exists anymore. And if it is, I don’t know if my brother Ash is using it in the same way Daddy did.”
“You haven’t been to your ranch recently? Not even on holidays?”
He couldn’t possibly know how painfully his question gutted her.
“That’s the kicker,” she admitted. “It isn’t my ranch at all. It’s Ashton’s. And we’ve been estranged for ten years over a stupid argument we had when we were young.
“So, yes, there is a barn—one that would be the perfect venue for Brady and Chelsea, if it hasn’t changed too much over the years. But whether or not Ash will let me onto his property, much less a whole wedding party, is another thing entirely.”
He narrowed his gaze on her and she swallowed hard.
“I wasn’t planning to deal with my past just yet. But I guess it’s going to be sooner rather than later. Because the only way to find out is to ask.”
Chapter Four
YES, NO, MAYBE SO?
All at once, an array of emotions exploded in Matthew’s chest, like fireworks on the Fourth of July.
Blue, green, red, yellow, gold.
Highest among those feelings was, surprisingly, grief. Not so much at what he’d lost and what might have been if the land had remained in his family, as how much time he’d wasted being infuriated about it. He’d been carrying around the heavy burden of anger so long that he’d grown used to the heat simmering just under his skin. But grief was new to him, and it struck him hard in the chest. He’d held onto his anger so tightly that there hadn’t been room for anything—or anyone—else in his heart.
All these years, he’d thought that without his land he was nothing, but he now realized it was his own attitude toward life that had kept him from really living it.
He hadn’t let anyone in.
He was envious of Brady, who’d been blessed to have found his soulmate. Brady was a simple cowboy, the same as Matthew, but he’d managed to snag a beautiful, classy woman. As a couple they would never have worked on paper. But God had brought them together and made something truly special out of their union.
It wasn’t Matthew’s job as a wrangler, or even that he’d lost the ranch, that had kept him from truly living his life all these years.
He was the one to blame
. He’d been standing in his own way.
And if he’d understood Riley correctly, then he wasn’t the only one who had lost out in the brouhaha that was the Weaver takeover of the Wilde ranch.
Not that he expected that a city girl would appreciate country living. Then again, in truth, she was a displaced country girl, which wasn’t exactly the same thing, was it?
“Yes? No? Maybe so?” Riley’s sing-song voice cut into Matthew’s thoughts.
“I’m sorry, what? I’m afraid I didn’t catch that last part.”
She snorted. “I’ll say you didn’t. What I asked is if you would mind coming with me to talk to my brother. Confronting Ash is something I have to do on my own, but if he agrees to let us hold the wedding reception there, I could use your help cleaning it up tonight.”
“Yes, of course,” he agreed, and then immediately wondered if that was a big mistake.
No matter what the family dynamics were, Ash had ended up owning land that by rights should have been Matthew’s, and they both knew it.
He recalled Ash from their high school days. Unlike Riley, Ash’s dad had insisted that Ash be educated at the local public school so he could learn how to manage the family ranch.
Matthew and Ash hadn’t traveled in the same circles, even though they were both rancher’s sons in the same class at school and their acreages connected.
Matthew had always been a loner, keeping mostly to a small group of trustworthy friends whenever he was on campus, which was as little time as possible. He would bolt out of school went the end bell rang, heading for the privacy and peace of herding cattle and riding the range on his favorite quarter horse, Selah, short for Selah Vie.
Ash Weaver, on the other hand, was outgoing and popular amongst his peers, both boys and girls, and he was extremely athletic, as well, leading the football team in autumn as a star linebacker and as first baseman in baseball in the spring. He also rodeoed some, bull riding more for the thrill of the adrenaline rush than to follow the circuit.
Matthew hadn’t seen Ash since the day Uncle Travis had handed the Wilde ranch over to Dirk Weaver, Riley and Ash’s father. Dirk had passed away, and Matthew had always assumed the ranch had been split equally between his heirs, Ash and Riley. Apparently, he’d been mistaken, and Riley had nothing to do with it. But if Ash was coldhearted enough to cut his sister out of his life, what kind of reception would Matthew get?