How to Rope a Real Man

by Melissa Cutler

He offered her a lopsided smile. The appearance of her favorite dimple almost made up for him begging off from kissing her earlier with one of the lamest excuses she’d ever heard.

  “You ready to ride with me, young lady?”

  “You know it, cowboy. I’ve been trying to get you alone in a car for a long time.” Damn it, she’d vowed not to flirt with him anymore and there she went, already back at it. The kicker was, she knew he had to be aware of their compatibility. The attraction that sizzled between them was too palpable for him not to feel it like she did, all the way deep down to her heart and soul.

  Maybe she shouldn’t let her pride talk her into giving up on him quite yet. Maybe this night together would prove the tipping point in their relationship.

  He pushed off the door and opened it. “Are you confessing that you sabotaged the flowers on purpose to set up this all-night road trip?”

  She sent him a sidelong look filled with intrigue. “My lips are sealed.”

  “Oh, no. Don’t you dare try to distract me from your mischief by talking about your lips. That’s double dirty dealin’.”

  She slid onto the seat, catching the way his eyes followed the swing of her bare legs into the car. She was busy congratulating herself on choosing to wear a sundress instead of jeans when her boot touched down on something hard. A crunch like an aluminum can buckling filled the space. She moved her foot off the can, inadvertently kicking a second.

  “Oh geez, sorry,” he muttered, diving down around her legs in search of them.

  As he groped along the floor, his cheek brushed her leg. Her breath caught.

  He jerked his head away, face averted, one hand holding an empty energy drink and the other covering his cheek. “I didn’t mean to . . .”

  He tossed the can into the backseat and stared into the darkness beyond the parking lot.

  God, Matt, what’s it going to take for you to overcome whatever’s haunting you?

  Determined to reclaim his attention, she ground the heel of her boot into the other can.

  Their eyes locked. The band of tension that had been pulling between them all night stretched tighter.

  A twist of her ankle crinkled the aluminum again. She cocked an eyebrow in challenge. Get the can, Matt. Reach on down there, big guy.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. “Miss Sorentino, are you trying to seduce me?”

  “I’m just trying to clear some room for my legs.” She smoothed her hand over her thigh.

  Those must’ve been the magic words because with a jolt his expression thawed. His focus shifted to her lower body. Unfolding his arms, he stepped into the doorway, looming over her.

  And then his fingertips were on her bare knee. She sucked in a deep breath and held it, letting her lungs burn.

  With a feather touch and a gaze as dark and hot as the air outside, he dragged his fingers higher, to the edge of her skirt.

  She slid her eyes to his hand and watched as he ever so slowly pushed the hem higher.

  Her whole body flushed with awareness and an ache flared to life between her thighs. She arched into his touch, relishing the sound of his quickened breath that told her he was as turned on as she was.

  “You make me forget myself, Jenna,” he whispered, throaty. His hand left her skirt and dipped to the inside of her thigh.

  “That’s a shame because I was looking forward to getting to know you better tonight.” Before she had time to second-guess the move, her hand shot to the back of his head. Fingers delved into his thick hair, pulling his head to her. His hand grabbed a firm hold of her thigh as the distance between their lips closed.

  The door of the saloon opened with a bang so forceful both Jenna and Matt turned to look. Kellan stood in the doorway, his expression homicidal. “What are you two still doing here?”

  Matt rose to his full height, his hand falling away from Jenna’s leg, and pivoted to face Kellan. “What’s wrong?”

  Kellan angled his focus around Matt and stabbed a finger at Jenna. “No more tequila for Amy—ever again. She’s in the bathroom, sick.”

  Jenna sat back against the seat, her mouth falling open. “What? She only had one shot.” Sure, Amy was a lightweight, but not that big of one. “Has to be wedding nerves.”

  “This wedding is turning into a circus, for shit’s sake. I’m this close to grabbing Amy and finding a judge to get this thing over and done with so we can get on with the rest of our lives.” He knocked the toe of his boot hard against a brick planter box. Jenna had never seen him this upset before. He looked like a big, angry bear.

  Matt moseyed his way, casual and slow, counterbalancing Kellan’s agitation.

  “No, you won’t,” he told Kellan in a smooth, confident tone, “because Amy wants a big wedding, and I’ve seen you with her enough that I know you’d do anything for her. We’re going to celebrate you and Amy coming together to start a family, and it’s going to be a beautiful time, even if it’s not exactly like you planned. But that’s life, right? Messy as hell. Weddings are no different. Wouldn’t it set a terrible tone for your marriage to kick things off by quitting?”

  Despite her concern for Amy, Jenna got a fluttery feeling listening to Matt’s eloquent words. She’d never been around a man who had such a graceful talent with language, and it turned her on as much as the way he filled out a pair of jeans or that boyish dimple, which was saying something.

  Kellan’s anger deflated. His shoulders dropped. He went from kicking the planter box with force to bouncing the toe of his boot off it with light taps. “Don’t you ever annoy yourself, what with being right all the time?” He looked sideways at Matt, a conciliatory smile on his face.

  “It’s a burden I have to carry. Listen, I’m serious—all weddings are circuses. Every single one of my brothers’ and sisters’ weddings had about a million last-minute problems. But everybody pitches in and gets it back on track. Take Amy home and get some water and aspirin in her. Jenna and I will take care of everything else.”

  Kellan scrubbed his hands over his face. “Okay, okay. I came out here in the first place to pull my truck around, so I’d better get to it. Rachel’s going to bring her out when she’s done in the bathroom.”

  Matt pulled keys from his pocket. “That’s our cue to get out of here. See you in the morning. And try not to worry.”

  Jenna tugged her door closed, astounded that Amy’s nerves had made her physically ill. As far as she knew, that had never happened to Amy before—and she, Jenna, and Rachel had been in some seriously stressful situations.

  Matt climbed in the driver’s seat and maneuvered the car onto the highway, heading west into the night. Jenna settled back in her seat and got comfortable.

  She loved long drives. Loved singing along to the radio and cracking the windows to breathe in the dried-sage smell of the desert. She loved the exhilarating rush of anonymity and freedom when no other cars were in sight. The times Tommy was with her, long trips through the empty desert were when they had their best talks. It was when she and her sisters had their best talks too. There was something about the vast sky and the wide, flat land that opened people up.

  Tonight, the moon was bright and nearly full, casting gray shadows over distant buttes and rolling hills. And she was alone with Matt. Maybe he’d finally open up to her too.

  After adjusting the temperature and turning down the classic country song on the radio, he fiddled with the earpiece for his cell phone, then dialed a number.

  “Hey, Len. It’s Uncle Matt. Shouldn’t you be in bed already?” Whatever Len said made Matt chuckle. “I like it when books make me stay up past my bedtime too. Is your mom around?”

  In the pause that followed, Jenna’s heart took a dive. She pressed a hand to her chest and fixed her attention on the white line that edged the road. What if this didn’t work? She’d have to ambush florists in the morning, begging for help. She’d have to throw money she didn’t have at the problem. Amy was already nauseous with nerves; how would this
latest disaster affect her?

  Matt rapped her thigh with the back of his hand. When she turned his way, he offered a reassuring smile before his attention was recaptured by the phone.

  “Hiya. Sorry to—” His face crinkled into a grimace. “No, I don’t need a reminder about your no-calling-after-nine rule.” The grimace intensified. “Stop it. Ugh. I don’t want to hear the gory details of your bubble bath and hair-removal regimen. I need to bleach my brain now. Thanks for that.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I know, I know, then don’t call after nine. I get it. But I need a favor.”

  Defeat tightened Jenna’s throat. Interrupting a lady’s personal beauty routine to beg a huge favor didn’t exactly get the conversation off to the best start. If Tara didn’t appreciate the phone interrupting her personal time, then she certainly wasn’t going to want to cut her evening short to pull an all-nighter at her flower shop for a complete stranger’s wedding.

  In response to something Tara said, Matt rolled his eyes. “Give me a break. Do you remember last December at Disneyland?” After a pause, he grinned, triumphant. “Yes, I’m bringing it up. Get over it. Because guess who volunteered to stay in the hotel with Brittany when she had the stomach flu so the rest of you could enjoy your day at the happiest place on earth? That’s right. Her favorite uncle did.”

  Jenna’s anxiety gave way to affection. She should’ve guessed Matt was the same way with his family as he was with others. Always the one saving the day.

  “And who babysits your kids every other Friday so you can date?” he continued into the phone. “I know I told you I’d never hold that against you, but all bets are off. I’ve never needed a favor this big.”

  Matt’s smile got so wide, his teeth practically glowed. Jenna wanted to press a finger, or maybe her tongue, into his dimple. “Oh please, I’d never ask you to take the bubbies to synagogue for Torah study again. What did you say after last time? That you’d reached your annual quota of guilt trips about being a better Jew?”

  Tara must’ve said something funny because Matt chuckled, then flashed Jenna a thumbs-up. “All right, here it is: I’m a groomsman in Kellan Reed’s wedding tomorrow afternoon. You remember him, right? He’s bought a few horses from Mom and Dad over the years. Well, we have a flower emergency, along with a very nervous bride who needs your expertise.”

  Despite Matt’s obvious confidence that Tara would help, Jenna held her breath.

  “Excellent. Thank you. Okay, details. Uhh . . . I have no clue. But I’ve got the bride’s sister Jenna with me, who also happens to be the wedding planner. Let me pass the phone to her.”

  After more fiddling with the earpiece to turn it off, he handed the phone across the seat. Jenna wasn’t easily intimidated, but her pulse pounded in her ears as she took it from him. After the back-and-forth between Matt and his sister, she half expected to be greeted on the phone by a royal bitch.

  “Hi, Tara. My name’s Jenna. Thank you so much for this. I’m sorry we’re interrupting your night.”

  “That’s okay. I like to give Matt a hard time, but I’m happy to help.” Her voice was relaxed and warm, jokey even. Definitely not a bitch. “It’s my weekend with the kids, but I’ll call their father and see if he can come stay on the sofa tonight to watch them.”

  “Yay, Daddy!” a girl’s voice hollered in the distance.

  “You’re supposed to be asleep, Brit!” A little-girl giggle sounded in the background. Tara let loose with an incredulous snort. “I swear, getting these two to settle down and go to bed is like trying to stop a Slinky on an escalator. And now that they know Ira’s coming, forget about getting them to sleep. That man is a rock star around here. He’ll probably let them have pie for breakfast.”

  “I’m sorry to put so many people out. Are you sure he won’t mind?”

  “Not at all. He and I weren’t meant to be married, but he’s a great dad. He won’t mind in the least. Tell me, what kind of flower emergency are we talking about here?”

  Jenna took a deep breath. “The florist called less than an hour ago and pulled out of my sister’s wedding tomorrow afternoon.” And the best man is a no-show, and the bride is puking her guts out at the moment in the nasty-ass bathroom of a saloon, and this is turning into the wedding from hell.

  “That’s a hundred shades of horrible,” Tara said with genuine outrage. “I don’t have a huge overstock in my refrigerator at the shop, but we’ll work something out, then hit the wholesale warehouse when it opens in the morning. Every bride deserves beautiful flowers at her wedding. Heck, my motto is that every woman deserves to be surrounded by flowers all her life.”

  Relief washed through her. Maybe everything would turn out okay after all. “I like that motto, even though the only time I’ve ever been surrounded by flowers is when I pass through them in a store or attend a memorial service.”

  Tara scoffed. “You and just about every other woman in the world, which is a crime, if you ask me.”

  “Agreed. Listen, thank you for this.”

  “You bet. Fill me in on the wedding colors and flowers you had planned.”

  Tara listened intently, asking questions and pausing to take down notes. She promised to make haste to the shop and get busy, and Jenna agreed to show up with plenty of coffee and sweets to get them through the night.

  When they ended the call, Jenna held the phone to her chest and released her exhale in a slow, peace-inducing stream.

  “You okay?” Matt asked.

  “Better than I’ve been the past hour. We might actually pull this off, thanks to you and Tara.”

  He waved off the praise. “Do you think Amy’s going to be all right?”

  Nodding, she watched the dark terrain out the window, gathering her scattered thoughts. “I know Amy freaks out easily, but she’s tougher than she looks. We had it rough growing up and all three of us sisters ended up damaged in one way or another. But in a twisted way, I’m grateful for what we went through because I think it turned us sisters into fighters. In this crazy world, being a fighter is a good thing. Amy’s going to be fine tomorrow. It’s just a wedding.”

  Matt snorted. “And here I was under the impression that throwing Amy the ultimate wedding was of the utmost importance to you.”

  She turned his way, faking wide-eyed innocence. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  He shot her a sidelong glance. “Do the words ‘best, most perfect wedding in Catcher Creek history’ ring a bell?”

  “I did say that, didn’t I?”

  “I’ve never taken you as a control freak or the kind of person obsessed with appearances, so what gives? Why are you putting so much pressure on yourself to make this wedding perfect?”

  He had the most uncanny way of getting to the heart of the issue. It would be unnerving if his concern was less than sincere, but she’d had her eye on Matt for a long time and he was the genuine article.

  She knew exactly why she cared so much, but it was complicated. Still, she supposed he deserved to understand why he was working through the night to save the wedding—or at least as much of the truth as she could share.

  “Our parents mismanaged our alfalfa farm, and about the same time as the economy took a dive, our business started going under. Rachel and I couldn’t pay the bills. I’d never felt so helpless and I hated it. The only job I could get within driving distance was as a waitress, and juggling that, and a precocious preschooler, and—” She choked back the words that had been on the tip of her tongue.

  Weird. She’d never come close to telling anyone that particular nugget of information before. She’d never wanted to. She liked the secret. It felt safer to keep it inside—a part of her nobody else could get to.

  Shaking off the close call, she cleared her throat and forged ahead with her story. “That’s about when you came into the picture last December, right after Amy swooped in to save the farm. She was the only one of us sisters who had any money or assets. She quit her job in L.A., sold her condo, moved home, and put up th
e collateral to start Heritage Farm Inn and the restaurant.

  “Between her and Kellan, and your efforts negotiating those oil rights contracts, we were saved. Rachel’s livelihood as a farmer was spared, as was the legacy we wanted to pass to Tommy. You asked why this wedding is so important to me, and the answer is that I owe Amy more than I could ever repay her. The wedding of her dreams is the least I can do.”

  His eyes on the road ahead, he gave a thoughtful nod. “Fair enough. That’s my favorite part of being a lawyer, by the way. When I get to help families stay in their houses.”

  “I already knew that about you. You like to save people.” Affection, warm and heady, almost had her reaching out to stroke his arm. She rubbed her own arms instead, knowing that if he flinched from her touch, the spell of the moment would be broken.

  “I’d like to believe I’m more humble than to think about it in those terms, but I am proud that I have a skill that helps people.”

  “That’s really noble.”

  He balked. “I wouldn’t go that far. It was kinda inevitable, given the way I grew up. My family’s huge on public service, like, big-time. Tikkun olam is what it’s called in the Jewish community. Any time one of us kids would talk about what we wanted to be when we grew up, our parents, aunts and uncles, and grandparents made us explain how it fit in with tikkun olam.”

  Jenna chuckled. “No wonder you turned out to have such a way with words, needing to explain yourself all the time like that. Are your brothers and sisters passing on the tradition to their kids?”

  “To varying degrees.”

  “I bet you will too when you have a family. The more I think about it, tikkun olam would be a good philosophy for Tommy and me to practice, too.”

  His expression hardened, smile gone.

  A flash of regret pulsed through her. Had she said something wrong? Was she not allowed to practice tikkun olam because she was Christian? Would something like that matter to Matt? He’d never seemed conservative in his beliefs, but there was so much about him she didn’t know.

  You make me forget myself, he’d said.