A Cowboy's Christmas Wedding. Pamela Britton
though she and Ramses would be seeing a lot of the man. He was the proprietor of a guest ranch, one that specialized in people with disabilities. This time of year the ranch catered to a different type of clientele, Alana had told her: big-game hunters. According to Alana it was a booming business. Elk and antelope and a whole host of other animals made their home in the high California desert.
“Got anything else in there I need to know about?” he asked.
“Nope.” She cradled Ramses’s cage in front of her. “This is the last surprise.”
This time, she was certain she heard him grunt. “I hope so.”
She hoped so, too.
* * *
HE COULD FEEL her behind him.
Stubborn, opinionated woman. Why wasn’t he surprised she’d brought along her cat? And what the hell was in the suitcases he lugged up the steps of his home? Damn things weighed as much as a ship anchor.
“Wow. This is pretty, Cabe.”
Hadn’t she been in his home before? He frowned.
Now that he thought about it, she hadn’t. He’d given her a wide berth when she’d visited the ranch last summer.
“How long have you lived here?”
“All my life,” he said, struggling to get the multiple pieces of luggage up the first flight of stairs. It was like carrying bales of hay, and it took everything he had to keep his breathing under control. Damned if he’d let her see him struggle.
“You sure you don’t want help with that?” she asked, almost as if she read his mind.
“Just hold on to your cat.”
“Not my hat?”
He glanced back down at her. She smiled up at him. He decided to ignore her.
She wouldn’t let him. “The house looks really old.”
He paused for a moment, ostensibly so he could respond to her comment, but really so he could catch his breath at the top of the steps. He felt as if his arms had stretched two inches by the time he set her luggage down.
“It was built in 1859,” he all but wheezed.
“No kidding.”
At the bottom of the steps was the family room, the hardwood floor so shiny it reflected the image of a massive stone fireplace that sat kitty-corner from the front door. Claw-footed furniture was arranged around the room, a beige-and-brown cowhide lay in the middle of the floor, matching pillows on the sofa. Across from the family room, still along the front of the house, was a drawing room, and behind that, toward the back, the kitchen overlooked a side pasture that stretched all the way to the main road.
“Our family was one of the first to settle in the area.”
“Neat.”
At the look of approval in her eyes, he picked up the luggage again. Sure, he was normally a lot friendlier to his guests, and sure, he was probably a bit hard on her, but Saedra Robbins annoyed the heck out of him with her I-can-do-anything-you-can-do attitude. That was why he’d be boiled in hoof tar before he let her see how out of breath he was.
One step at a time.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Attic.”
He heard her laugh. “Going to lock me in there?”
Now there was an idea. Granted, Trent and Alana might not approve, but it sure would make his life easier. She rubbed him the wrong way, but he was also man enough to admit that part of his problem was how gorgeous the woman was. Not just mildly pretty. Not even vaguely pretty. She was breathtakingly beautiful with her wide blue eyes, full lips and heart-shaped face that featured a tiny button nose and softly rounded chin.
“Not unless you misbehave.” He was only half-kidding.
Maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d had a spare cabin for her to stay in, but with the ranch fully booked, it’d made sense to have her stay in his home. Frankly, it’d been the only option. Even the hotels were booked this time of year.
“Hmm.” Her long blond hair fell over one shoulder as she pretended to consider his words. “That sounded like a challenge.”
Was she flirting with him? He drew himself up as best he could considering his burden, arranging his face into a mask of indifference. She would learn he had no interest in women, not even a beautiful one. His damn sexual attraction was just an annoyance—nothing more.
“It was meant as a warning.”
He’d made it to the top of the steps, thank God, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Funny that she could stand beneath him on the steps, smaller by at least a foot, and yet he could still feel the urge to run away.
“Did you hear that, Ramses?” She turned the cage around so she could peer at her cat. She pitched her voice down low and gruff. “We’ve been warned.”
This would be a long couple of weeks, he thought, turning back to the task at hand. At least she was a full floor away. And with life on the ranch as busy as it was, what with livestock management and guests to entertain, he’d see very little of her.
He hoped.
“Here you go.”
He left the luggage outside her room before swinging open a door. The roofline was lower here, but only along the front of the house. It sloped upward, toward the middle of the home, allowing for two dormers, one to the left and one to the right and each with a bench seat and a puffy pillow in front of it. The perfect place to sit and daydream...or write.
He backed away from that thought like a horse spooking at a plastic bag.
“Wow.” She brushed past him, the air she disturbed leaving behind the scent of vanilla and cinnamon. Gently, she set her cat down on the daybed to her right. “This is stunning.”
Blue. His wife’s favorite color. On the walls, billowing down in drapes, echoed in the quilt on the bed.
Why hadn’t he been up here before now? Why had he waited until it was time to show Saedra to her room to make the trek upstairs?
So you could put off facing Kimberly’s hideaway and be reminded of her and all that you lost.
“Enjoy.” He brushed past her.
“Wait!” He heard her take a few steps. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“Out the door, to the right.”
He couldn’t get away fast enough.
“But I thought we could go over a few things. You know, for the wedding.”
He should have let her stay in one of the guest bedrooms. He shouldn’t have allowed her up here. And he definitely should have ignored his instincts to keep her far away.
“Can’t,” he shot over his shoulder. Keep walking. “Things to do.”
“Cabe.”
Ignore her. Don’t look back. There’s no need to pretend you like the woman. She’s not a guest.
But years of playing the polite host proved impossible to ignore. He paused near the top step, slowly turned to face her despite the inner warnings to do the exact opposite. The sight of her standing there, sunlight framing her silhouette, blond hair set aglow—it did things to his insides.
So much like Kimberly.
Saedra was taller, of course, but everything else seemed the same, from the length of her hair to the shape of her body, even down to what she wore: the stone-washed jeans and formfitting long-sleeved top. He could just picture Kim standing there, a smile on her face as she chastised him for interrupting her while she’d been in the midst of writing. Usually those interruptions led to something else, something