The Bride Wore Starlight

by Lizbeth Selvig

  “Tell you what. I know we have a date to go visit my friend’s ranch tomorrow. If I can rustle up some food and we can christen your new digs properly, will you skip that outing and change it to dinner tonight?”

  “I think I’m insulted. You’re actually trying to get out of taking me somewhere. I’ve never been stood-up in person before.”

  “Hey. Nobody in his right mind would stand you up. I’m just switching the date venue.”

  “Who said tomorrow was a date?”

  “Stop nit-picking like a dang girl. It’s a date, okay? I officially invite you to it here and now. And I’m adding tonight. Dinner. I’ll offer you two choices—Moscato and steak or a nice bottle of a red blend and steak.”

  She laughed. “So, wait. We either have to buy steak. Or buy steak and wine.”

  “Neither. I have the steak at my house. Two thick ol’ ribeyes I bought just yesterday and haven’t put in the freezer yet. I also have a bottle of red wine I got as a lovely parting gift when I left Texas to come here. I don’t drink a lot of red wine.”

  “I remember. Wild Turkey.”

  “Nah. Those days are mostly gone. Not a wild turkey in sight in my liquor cabinet, I’m afraid. A fair amount of beer in the fridge. I haven’t totally reformed.”

  “Yeah. A cowboy who didn’t drink beer? I’d take you to an emergency room myself. Okay, here’s the deal. I’ll go on this date with you tonight, but I maintain tomorrow never was a date, so I’m not willing to let you call it off. It’s a business meeting and a research trip. Maybe I’m in the market for a horse.”

  “In that case, I can do your research for you. You cannot buy this horse. Sometimes a fly would land on his back, and he’d lose his brain. That’s probably exactly how Vince got the picture you saw. He’s not a fun little horsey.”

  A tiny flash of irritation heated her cheeks. “And I’m not a stupid little, horsey-loving city girl. I’ve probably ridden more horses than you have. The bottom line is I’m not looking for a horse. But if I were, it wouldn’t matter if the thing bucked or not. I can’t use a riding horse.”

  He sighed and let her irritation roll off his back. With yet another of his charming grins he took her hands. “There you go again, Joellen Crockett. What am I going to do with you?”

  Chapter Eleven

  “DO WITH ME? About what, exactly?” she asked.

  Alec loved the fiery flash of irritation in her eyes. He knew he shouldn’t egg her on, shouldn’t tease her so mercilessly, but the true nature of the woman before the accident came out at its best and strongest when she sparred with him. That made it hard to resist picking on her.

  “You said you can’t use a riding horse. Why?”

  “Tough to ride when one leg can’t tell the horse what to do, wouldn’t you say, Mr. Expert? Don’t see you out there either.”

  “Don’t see me out there on a saddle bronc. Doesn’t mean I’ve never tried riding a horse.”

  As always when he dropped a little grenade, she stopped and stared like a guppy through its fishbowl—big eyes, open mouth.

  “You’ve ridden.”

  “Joely, haven’t you ever paid any attention to the things amputees can do? Watched Dancing with the Stars? Seen the Olympics? Do you want a list?”

  “No, of course not.” She looked away.

  “I’m not offended,” he said, catching her arm. “I just want you to stop limiting yourself.”

  “I moved into my own dang place,” she said, subdued. “Doesn’t that count?”

  “You know it does. Now you have to learn to enjoy it.” He took her gently by her upper arms and made her look at him. “I’m done lecturing. I promise. You don’t have to ever buy a riding horse. That’s not the point, okay? Don’t buy one because you don’t want one, not because you can’t ride one.”

  “You said you were done lecturing.”

  “I am. What’s it going to be for dinner?”

  To his delight she started to laugh. “You and I have the most ridiculous conversations. I don’t think they even are conversations. They’re more like little mini visits to the principal’s office.”

  “Well then, stop getting yourself into trouble.” He released her and waited for the comeback. Instead she put a hand on his cheek and leaned toward him. He thought his heart might just stop with her touch.

  “I am who I am now, Alec. You aren’t going to change me. But I know why you’re trying, and it’s nice of you to care.”

  Who she was “now.” Did she mean she’d defined herself as a new person since the accident? That’s precisely what he didn’t want her to do, and she was right. He did care. But he shouldn’t. He didn’t need to. She had practically warned him off. He also sensed that if he didn’t stick to his promise to stop lecturing, she wouldn’t be so nice about warning him next time.

  “Hard not to care,” he said as breezily as he could. “We’re gimpy-legged mates. I’m drawn to you. So. What’s it going to take to get you to order dinner?”

  “Fine. I choose the red and the Moscato. Red for the snob. White sparkly for the other person here who doesn’t really like red wine but maybe should.”

  “My kind of girl. Want to come with me to pick up the meat? Or are you dead on your feet?”

  Even through her spunk she looked tired. She’d rested on and off throughout the day, but for the most part she’d been as busy as everyone else. Beautiful and strong as she was, he knew she wasn’t in the best cardio shape. Still, he hoped she’d consider taking the short drive.

  “If you’re not dead on your fake foot, I’m certainly not dead on my live one.” She gave a little teasing smirk.

  It shocked him. Nobody teased him about his missing foot. Even when he joked about the leg himself, coworkers, his family, even his friends were too uncomfortable with it to make fun. It’s why he kept the existence of his prosthetic quiet from all but those who already knew or who got close enough to need to know. He wasn’t ashamed. He simply hated the ever-present awkwardness it caused, however miniscule the amount of discomfort was. Now here came Joely, not only mentioning it but doing it on purpose and being proud of it.

  Wells of grateful emotion filled behind his eyes, and his smile blossomed unbidden.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing. Come on. Let’s go get dinner. I’ll introduce you to my dog.”

  “I’m not so sure those two sentences should have gone together.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste and Alec laughed again.

  “THIS IS YOUR house?”

  Joely leaned forward in the passenger seat of the truck and craned her neck. Alec smiled with pride as she took in the front yard with its mountain view and wide lawn.

  “It’s a nice place. I was lucky to find it,” he said. “Good timing meant I didn’t have to put a very large dog in a very small house in town and scare the neighbors to death.”

  “So she is a scary, large dog?”

  “Only scary looking. It’s mostly the large that does it. Have you ever met a wolfhound?”

  “No. I’ve seen pictures.”

  “You have a little bit of an idea then. Even before she stands like the human she thinks she is, I’m guessing her head will come . . . ” He assessed her quickly. “About here on you.” He slashed his hand across his own breastbone.

  Joely didn’t flinch. “That’s a big dog.”

  “Big.” He nodded. “But a harmless goon. Be warned, she’s still got some puppy left in her even after two years. She’s, uh, exuberant when I first get home. But wolfies like being lazy, so it’s not bad once she settles down.”

  “I consider myself warned.”

  He showed her around the yard although there wasn’t a lot to admire up close other than the impressive trees. He hadn’t had time in the short time he’d lived here to landscape anything, so overgrown foundation plantings were all that passed for attractive botanical touches. Joely still complimented the house, the brickwork, the front porch with its hand-hewn log railings, and she was prope
rly awed by the crescent of mature trees curving around the east side of the house. Especially Alec’s favorite, a gnarly limbed tree with long, elegant branches that flowed sideways, like a woman with beautiful, windswept hair. Its small, white flower blossoms were just starting to open.

  “What a gorgeous Hawthorne.” She pointed.

  “You know them?” he asked. “I love how it looks like a lady with her hair blowing in the wind.”

  “My, how poetic.”

  “Oh, but beware. The flowers hide long thorns—like a rosebush. That lady knows how to protect herself.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been bitten once or twice? Put your hands where they didn’t belong, maybe?”

  “Smart ass.”

  “Just trying to get a few insights from The Lady.”

  He accompanied her slowly to the porch and she placed her crutches carefully on the uneven ground.

  “Want an arm or just your crutches?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. Thanks. Although I do have to say I’ll be glad to set these babies down when I get back home. I haven’t used them in eight months as much as I have the past two weeks.”

  “I never thought they got easier to use.”

  “You had crutches?”

  “Really?” He shot her a look.

  She covered her mouth with her hand and stifled a giggle. “Duh. I don’t suppose you woke up from surgery already fitted with a working wooden leg.”

  Again with the easy kidding. He could love a woman like this.

  “Wish I could have. Might have skipped a few painful steps in the process. But, I couldn’t find a good pirate surgeon. Arrrgh. So I settled for carbon fiber. On this leg anyhow. I have a couple.”

  “Ooh, like a running leg? And a Dancing with the Stars leg?”

  “Ah, so she does pay attention.”

  “I can be taught, yes.”

  “No dancing leg or running blade, but I have two different ankle assemblies with different ranges of articulation. And I have one called a dynamic response foot that stores energy when I walk and acts more realistic. They aren’t pretty but they’re better than a peg leg.”

  “You’re an impressive guy. It’s so natural for you.”

  “I’ve had three years to get used to it. It’s never natural.”

  He studied the contemplation in her face and had a sudden urge to touch her, to feel the emotion and the questions there with his own fingers and find out what she was really thinking. It was silly—as if emotion could transfer that way—but she had such expressive features. He wondered if she knew how often her personality showed for the world to see. She’d be an awful poker player. He kept his hands to himself.

  “Ready to meet the moose?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  He entered first and Rowan didn’t disappoint. She woofed in happy greeting and jumped to put her paws on his shoulders as usual. Then she caught sight of Joely, and her eyes lit from inside as if Alec had brought her home a new, personal playmate. She pushed off of Alec and the wagging speed of her tail doubled, sending the vibrating motion throughout her entire, ginormous body.

  “Hey, Rowan. Hi, girl.” Joely’s enthusiasm nearly matched the dog’s. “Your dad wasn’t kidding about you being crossed with an elephant, was he?”

  She stroked and scratched the head and ears that did come nearly to her neck, but it wasn’t enough. Rowan pushed forward until the pressure of her forehead against Joely’s chest forced her to bend at the waist and wrap her arms around the shaggy canine head.

  “You are a big ol’ love.” She made kissing noises and babbled something in baby gibberish.

  Alec shook his head and laughed. “Don’t do that. She’ll never look at me again.”

  “C’mon, you don’t talk baby talk to your baby?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Silly boys, what do they know, right, sweetie?”

  Rowan licked at Joely’s cheek, covering the scar up the side with a wet swipe. She laughed again. “Okay, yuck.”

  “C’mon, Dum-ro,” Alec said, tugging lightly on Rowan’s collar. “You need to go outside.”

  “Aw, don’t call her ‘dumb.’ ”

  “What? No! Dum-ro as in Dumbo and Rowan. Elephant, remember?”

  “Ahh. Okay. You’re forgiven.”

  “Gee, thanks.” He turned for the patio doors and Rowan followed. “Wish I could get immediate bonding action like the dang dog.”

  “Stop being so bossy and you might.”

  He grunted. Secretly, though, he was thrilled Joely had taken so quickly to the dog. He was even more pleased, and surprised at his pleasure, that she was in his house, seeing where he spent his time. Maybe she’d see him as more than Gabe’s annoying, bossy, one-legged cowboy friend.

  Then again, he didn’t know why he’d want her that close. He’d just as soon maintain the snarky little relationship they’d formed. He didn’t want to do tangled anymore. The desire for that kind of close relationship had died along with his cousin.

  “Oh my, this is prettier than the front!”

  Joely swung her way out onto the back deck and lifted her eyes to scan the beautiful view. Rowan loped through the yard, stopping to squat and then heading for her ball.

  “The previous owners did a nice job,” he said. “The landscaping is a little overgrown and raggedy but otherwise it’s awesome. Sometimes I feel bad that the owners lost this place. I don’t know the story—I figure it’s none of my business.”

  “You were meant to have it then,” she said. “You don’t have to feel bad. Just be grateful. God smiles down and hands things out for free once in a while.”

  He scoffed quietly but nodded. “Sure.”

  They moved slowly around the perimeter of the yard, and Joely surprised him with her knowledge of the plants and the trees. The Asian lilies, coneflowers, and salvia. The burr oaks and the mountain ashes.

  “My mom is a master gardener,” she said. “I don’t have her touch, but I learned a lot working with her. You saw her gardens.”

  He had. To say the flowers and landscaping at Rosecroft were impressive was an understatement. Naming the component parts of her garden, however, would not be his strong suit.

  “She can come and fix these plantings up anytime.” He laughed.

  “She probably would. Mom loves getting her hands in good clean dirt.”

  They reached the house again, and Joely spotted the big four-wheeler that had come with the place. Another little bonus Alec sometimes felt guilty about enjoying.

  “Those are pretty much a riot to ride,” she said. “I really didn’t want to admit it when my father started using them around the ranch—more often than horses for some things—that they were more efficient. I hated that the animals were being replaced. But I have to say—we used to do stupid things with these that were a lot of fun. My mom, the progressive, made us wear helmets. Once or twice it was a good thing, I think.”

  “I have a hard time imagining you as a wild kid,” he said.

  “Hey, I was a barrel racer. What’s really wild is that Mom didn’t make me wear a helmet for that. I remember getting so competitive I didn’t care how fast or how low I got on those turns. I could have gone off into a barrel or worse any number of times.”

  “I remember.” Alec did. Fondly. “Rodeo girls are gutsy and nuts. As crazy as bull riders I used to say.”

  “We’d have ridden bulls,” she said, her face shining with a touch of defiant pride. “We’re more bouncy and resilient than people think.”

  “Well, you’re curvier and prettier at any rate.”

  “What a sexist thing to say.”

  “Is not. It’s the plain truth. Being curvy and pretty doesn’t take a thing away from being tough. It’s just more fun to watch.”

  “You sound like you might actually miss it.”

  “Lookin’ at the cowgirls? Sure. Anything else? Nope. No desire to go back.”

  Even as he said it his heart rate thrummed into a higher gear. She neede
d to believe him before he took her to Vince’s tomorrow, and he hadn’t yet planted nearly enough “I had my fun with rodeo” seeds. He needed to start, but he really didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to analyze the skeptical look on that beautiful, open book face of hers.

  “Let’s get the steaks and wine and go make dinner,” he said, before she could speak. “I’ve been hungry since we first talked about meat.”

  “Okay.” She looked around again and her shoulders rose and lowered as she drew in a deep breath and then let it slowly back out. “It does smell more like the ranch here. It’s nice.” Her gaze lit on the grill in the corner of the deck, and she pointed. “I don’t have one of those,” she said. “I didn’t think of that. Can you do the steaks in my broiler?”

  He could. He was not a great cook, but he did know his beef. Still, the thought of wasting two gorgeous steaks in a broiler made his stomach ache in disappointment.

  “I can cook a steak anywhere. But, we could grill them here if you aren’t in a big rush to get back home. We can drink the wine at your place. I have some baked beans we could add to the menu.”

  “Veggies?”

  “That I don’t know; there are probably some canned green beans or something in the freezer. If I bought any it was just out of duty put in my head by my aunt years ago.”

  “Canned green beans.” She laughed. “Awful, but you know what? I love them. It’s sad.”

  “The French style,” he said. “Smear ’em with butter and a little pepper. Gourmet.”

  “Man, don’t ever let my mom hear you say that. That was my father’s idea of healthy eating, and Mom let him have them every once in a while, but she wouldn’t touch a canned vegetable if it would save her life.”

  “Here’s to our fathers, then. That’s where I learned to eat the stuff. My aunt could never train that out of me either.”

  “Fine. Let’s eat here. My only regret is that we didn’t bring the Moscato so we could have a meal truly worthy of making a real gourmand faint in horror.”

  “We’ll see what we can find.”

  They turned for the deck, and a tank-sized blur of hair leaped in front of them. With a loud grunt, Joely plummeted to the ground and lay flat on her back with Rowan standing over her, a front paw either side of her chest, planting kisses all over her face.