Vegas Wedding, Weaver Bride

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  Ah. Ace in the Hole was starting to sound like a bar and grill. The kind with a big screen TV. Ribs and a good craft beer sounded pretty good. Plus, he was looking forward to seeing his brothers and getting to know their wives. Autry had flown in for the weddings, but had had to leave the next day. Now, he had weeks to solve the mystery of his brothers’ complete turnarounds.

  “Thanks for letting me know, Miss Marley,” Autry said. “I’ll be sure to order the ribs.”

  “Go, Brenna and Travis!” Marley said, giving the baby a little pump in the air. “Imagine that, two of our own on a reality TV show. So exciting!”

  Autry had no idea who Brenna and Travis were, but a reality TV show called The Great Roundup probably had something to do with cattle. Maybe horses?

  “Da,” said the baby in Miss Marley’s grasp, reaching out his arms toward Autry.

  An old ache gripped Autry, catching him off guard. He’d thought he was done with the sudden stabbing pain over what had happened.

  Marley smiled. “That’s not your daddy, Dylan, but yes, he does look like your father with his blond hair and blue eyes.”

  Autry forced a smile. “It was nice to meet you,” he said, extending his hand, then he headed out the door.

  The one thing you could count on in this life was that there would be no babies or children in a bar.

  Ace in the Hole, here I come. And not a minute too soon.

  * * *

  “Wow,” Marissa Fuller said as she and her nine-year-old daughter, Abby, walked into the Ace in the Hole. “Standing room only tonight.” Good thing she’d decided to leave her two younger daughters at home with their grandparents.

  Abby’s face lit up. “This is so exciting, Mom! The first episode of The Great Roundup is finally going to be on TV! Did you ever think a reality TV show would film right here in Rust Creek Falls? I could totally pass out from the anticipation! All those cute cowboys competing in teams for a zillion dollars—in Western feats and wilderness survival...and two who we actually know! I can’t wait to find Janie and watch!”

  How her daughter got that all out in one breath, Marissa would never know. While Abby scanned the crowd for her best friend, Marissa looked around for two empty seats. There was one—right next to her good friend Anne Lattimore, Janie’s mother.

  “Marissa!” Anne called, waving her over. “I’ve been saving you this seat for twenty minutes and have gotten a bunch of mean looks by folks who want it. One guy even offered to buy me the sirloin special if I let him have the chair.”

  “Was he cute?” Abby asked as they approached. “Blond or dark haired? Did he have dimples like Lyle in 2LOVEU?”

  Marissa smiled and shook her head, then gratefully sat down next to Anne at the table for two that was wedged between two others. Her daughter’s favorite subject was 2LOVEU, a boy band she listened to on repeat for hours. Marissa had heard the songs so often they’d grown on her, too.

  “He was cute,” Anne told Abby. “But around fifty. And no dimples, sorry.”

  “Abby, you can sit on my lap, like old times,” Marissa said, squeezing her daughter’s hand.

  Abby’s eyes widened. “Mom, I’m nine,” she whispered in horror.

  “No worries,” Anne said, smiling at Abby. “Janie’s over there, sitting on the floor in the kids section. She saved you a spot, too.”

  “Bye!” Abby squealed and ran over to the area, where Marissa could see around thirty or so children sitting on foam mats, talking excitedly and munching on the free popcorn the Ace staff was handing out in brown paper bags. There was a good view of the two giant screen televisions on stands on either side of the bar. No matter where you sat in the room, you could see them.

  “You’re the best, Anne,” Marissa said, scooting a bit closer to her friend to avoid being elbowed in the ribs by the woman at the next table. A divorced mom with a full-time job as a receptionist at the veterinarian’s office, Anne had her hands full but her act completely together. Something Marissa was working on. “I meant to get here twenty minutes ago, but Kiera couldn’t find her favorite doll and had the tantrum of all tantrums just as I was leaving. I thought tantrums were supposed to stop by five years old.”

  Anne smiled, pushing a swath of her wavy blond hair behind her ear. “One of my neighbors threw a tantrum this morning over someone’s dog walking on the edge of her property. I don’t think there’s an age limit, sorry.”

  Marissa laughed. “And then Kaylee managed to smush a green bean in her ear at dinner, so I had to deal with a three-year-old sobbing that this means she’s going to turn into a green bean.”

  Anne squeezed Marissa’s hand. “Oh, to be three years old.”

  But finally, Marissa had made it. Her mom and dad, doting grandparents, had shooed her out the door, assuring her they’d help Kiera find the doll, and calm down Kaylee. But even when Marissa needed a night out so badly she could scream, she never felt comfortable leaving her parents to deal with sobs and tantrums. That was Marissa’s job. She was the parent. She was the only parent.

  She may have moved back in with her folks for the sake of the girls—and yes, her sake, too. But she wasn’t about to take advantage of her parents’ kindness and generosity. They’d been there for her two years ago when her husband, Mike, had died. They’d been there when she was struggling to make ends meet. They’d been there when she’d surrendered to the notion that she needed help, and had accepted their offer to move home. But her three daughters were her responsibility, and no matter how tired she was from her job at the sheriff’s office, or comforting a sick child at three in the morning, Marissa was their mom. Despite that, though, living under her parents’ roof sometimes made her feel like one of the kids instead of a twenty-seven-year-old widow, a grown-up.

  A cheer went up in the room and Marissa glanced at the TV. It was showing a teaser promo for The Great Roundup, which was about to start in a few minutes, and there was Brenna O’Reilly, hometown girl, giving an interview, reality-TV-style, to someone off camera about how she never thought she could do this, but here she was, a hairstylist from Rust Creek Falls, participating in the competition with her hot fiancé, and she was going to give it her all.

  You go, Brenna. Marissa knew all about finding herself in uncharted territory. You gave it your all or... There was actually no alternative.

  “Brenna O’Reilly and Travis Dalton?” Anne said. She smiled and shook her head. “The cowboy no one ever thought would settle down and the flirty hairstylist always up for adventure—engaged. Crazy.”

  Marissa had gone to high school with Brenna, who’d been a year behind her. They’d been only acquaintances, but she had to agree. Plus, hadn’t Brenna always talked about getting out of Rust Creek Falls? Granted, she had for the TV show, which had filmed for what must have been six very exciting weeks at the High Lonesome Guest Ranch. Rumor had it that Brenna and Travis would be coming to the viewing party, even though they’d been invited to watch the first episode with the producers and some of the other competitors.

  “Chemistry works in mysterious ways,” Jamie Stockton said, his arm around his wife, Fallon O’Reilly Stockton—Brenna’s sister.

  It sure was nice to see Jamie Stockton out for a change. Before he’d fallen in love with Fallon, the widowed rancher had been raising his baby triplets on his own. If anyone needed a night out, it was Jamie.

  Fallon smiled and nodded, raising her beer mug. She had visited her sister on location during the filming of the show last month. But Fallon wouldn’t say a word about what had gone on behind the scenes. Apparently, she’d had to sign confidentiality papers not to ruin any surprises.

  What the whole town did know was that originally, Travis, the ultimate showman cowboy, was the only Rust Creek Falls contestant on the show, which was about cowboys—men and women—competing in Western-style challenges. But when the producers were in
town last month to film some hometown segments and saw what amazing chemistry Travis had with his girlfriend, Brenna—and how camera ready Brenna was—they’d invited them both on the show. No one had even suspected Travis and Brenna were dating, but the next thing everyone knew, Travis had proposed and they were competing as The Great Roundup’s “engaged couple.” If Marissa could binge watch the whole season in one night, she would. But she, like everyone else, would have to wait for every episode over the next several months.

  “Now, that sounds like Travis,” said Nate Crawford, who owned the general store and a hotel in town, “Asking a woman to marry him for good ratings.” He grinned and shook his head.

  Anne laughed. “I saw them a bunch of times together last month during the filming here. When the cameras weren’t rolling. No way were they faking anything for ratings. Those two are in love for sure.”

  “Still, I can’t imagine proposing to a woman on a whim,” Zach Dalton said, adjusting his bolo tie as though it were squeezing his neck. Marissa glanced at Zach at the table on their other side. The handsome newcomer to town and his four brothers were cousins of Travis’s.

  “Well, no matter what happened behind the scenes,” Anne said, “everything sure worked out for Travis and Brenna. They’re engaged.”

  Marissa sighed. It sure had. All the romance in the air had left her a little wistful. Last month, her daughter Abby had talked nonstop about how “dreamy” their new town “star” Travis was, almost as dreamy as Lyle, the lead singer of 2LOVEU. And Marissa had always admired Brenna’s free-spirited ways, especially back in high school. Brenna had had lots of dates, while Marissa had dated only one boy throughout high school and always expected they would get married. When she got pregnant after prom night, she’d married Michael Fuller at age eighteen. But Brenna had sown her wild oats and found love when she was ready for it. Good for you, Brenna.

  Just as Marissa was about to try to flag one of the very busy waitresses, who were all racing around with platters of steaks and appetizers and ribs and trays of beer and soda, Abby ran over.

  “Mom!” her daughter said, her brown eyes all dreamy. “That’s the one you should pick. For sure.”

  Pick? Huh? Marissa looked in the direction her daughter was staring.

  Ah. Three very good-looking men—two the Jones brothers and a third, who looked just like them—stood at the bar, talking, smiling, whispering. Marissa couldn’t take her eyes off the one she didn’t know. She was pretty sure she’d heard that Walker and Hudson, who owned Just Us Kids, had other brothers. And the tall Adonis between them, with his thick dark blond hair and sparkling, intense blue eyes, his designer shirt clearly costing more than her three kids’ wardrobes for a year, had to be a Jones. They were millionaires, yes, but also rare men who looked like they belonged both in Montana and a big city. There was something about the cut of the Western shirt, the premium leather cowboy boots, the belt buckle on which was carved the initials AJ and the trim fit of low-slung dark jeans. Since her daughter knew who Walker and Hudson were, the girl had to be talking about the one in the middle. Abby was right. He was sexy.

  “They look like they should be in an ad for men’s cologne,” Marissa quipped. “Or on a movie poster. But pick for what?” she asked her daughter.

  Abby grinned and leaned close. “To be your boyfriend.” The girl giggled and ran back to her seat next to her best friend.

  Anne burst into laughter, but Marissa sighed. This was not the first time Abby had brought up the b word.

  “Isn’t she a little young to be this boy crazy?” Marissa asked her friend. “I mean, it’s one thing for Abby to be putting up posters of 2LOVEU on her bedroom wall. It’s another for her to be sizing up every man she sees as a potential love interest for her own mother.”

  Anne smiled but sighed, too. “Janie’s the same. I hear her say good-night to the lead singer of 2LOVEU before bed. We weren’t much different with our posters when we were kids.”

  “Except we can’t remember being kids because we’re a hundred years old,” Marissa pointed out.

  Anne laughed. “Exactly.”

  Marissa found herself staring at the gorgeous stranger again. She had to hand it to her daughter—the girl had amazing taste. Marissa loved the way his blond hair swooped up and back like a Hemsworth brother’s. The few crinkles at the edges of his blue eyes suggested he was a bit older than her. Early thirties, she’d say. And those shoulders. Those arms. The way his waist narrowed down to those delicious jeans, which—

  Oh my God.

  He raised his beer glass at her and winked.

  He’d caught her staring!

  Mortifying!

  “Can the floor open up and swallow me?” Marissa said, wishing the woman at the table in front of her had bigger hair so she could block Marissa and her cheeks, which had to be bright red.

  “And miss the start of The Great Roundup?” Anne said with an evil grin. “Go talk to him! Hurry. You only have a few minutes.”

  “What? Talk to that? That absolute gorgeous specimen of man? He barely looks real he’s so hot.”

  Anne laughed. “The waitresses are so busy we’ll never get served before the show starts. Go get us two drafts and order a platter of something yummy. Perfect excuse to meet His Hotness. I heard Lindsay mention that her brother-in-law Autry was due in town this week and that Autry has been to just about every country in the world. How exciting is that? The man is a jet-setter. And gorgeous. Go get him.”

  A tiny bit of Marissa, who was trying to be more “in the moment,” per a magazine article, wanted to do just that.

  But come on. Marissa was a widowed mother of three young daughters and living with her parents. She might seem attractive across a room when he knew nothing about her, but she had no doubt that the man would run all the way back to Tulsa, where she’d heard the Jones brothers hailed from, the moment he discovered what her life was.

  “I can just see that very expensive-looking man plucking green beans out of Kiera’s ears,” Marissa said. “Not. He’s nice to look at, but come on. I’m going to be on my own until Kaylee’s out of high school.” Which was only, gulp, fifteen more years.

  “Marissa Fuller!” Anne chastised her with a smile. “What did Brenna and Travis’s crazy whirlwind romance teach us? That you just never know. If you’re open to it, if you’re there, love just might show up.”

  Marisa was so touched by how positive Anne always was—and Anne was the divorcee who’d never, ever gotten over her first love, Daniel Stockton. She wrapped her friend in a hug. “Maybe we’ll both find love again,” Marissa said.

  “Well, if I were you, I’d march over to the bar before some other single woman does.”

  But Marissa stayed put, an eye on Abby and her thoughts back home. Yes, a night out was sorely needed, but Marissa missed putting her little ones to bed and wishing them sweet dreams. That was her life. Not hot men in thousand-dollar cowboy boots.

  But this particular one sure was nice to fantasize about.

  Copyright © 2017 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  ISBN-13: 9781488014413

  Vegas Wedding, Weaver Bride

  Copyright © 2017 by Allison Lee Johnson

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, M3B 3K9 Canada.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

  www.Harlequin.com