“So did I. Do you know how far away we had to park? Why, this place is busier than the Dairy Queen on senior citizen night.”
“They give free ice cream to anyone over sixty-five,” one of the women added.
“And whipped cream.”
“That sounds real nice,” Travis said. “But I just need to talk to my—“
“Is there a problem here?” The soft, feminine voice slid into his ear and cut him off mid-sentence. He turned toward the female who appeared on his left, her hands on her hips, her blue eyes drilling into him.
She was at least a head shorter than he was, with long, blond hair that had been swept up into a tight, no frills ponytail. She wore a knee-length black skirt and a plain white button up blouse. Sensible black pumps. Boring.
That’s what he told himself. No legs up to here or breasts out to there.
At the same time, she had the most incredible eyes he’d ever seen. Pale blue with just a hint of green around the edges. Color so translucent that, for a split second, he saw only his own reflection in their sparkling depths.
No thoughts. None of her personal stats. Nothing. Not even her name.
Before Travis could delve deeper, she shifted her attention to the old man.
“What’s going on, Mr. Crabtree?”
“This whippersnapper is trying to cut in line,” the man declared. “But Miranda promised me I could have the first picture. I cain’t stand for long without my arthritis acting up.”
“Mine, too,” a woman added. “I’ve got seconds.”
“And I’ve got a corn on my big toe that’s aching something fierce so I get to go third.”
The pale blue eyes darkened just a hint, killing the reflection that had him so mesmerized and opening the door so that he could see straight into her thoughts.
Her name was Holly Simms. Mid-twenties. She was a wedding planner who loved dogs, Reeses’ Peanut Butter cups and her job. Except when she had to deal with stubborn guests or a lying, cheating, line-cutting cowboy.
Ouch. “I wasn’t trying to cut in front of anyone.” He shrugged. “I’m just here to talk to the groom.”
“And we’re here to talk to the bride,” Arbor added. “She promised us pictures and I’m not moving ‘til I get my picture.”
“Me either,” a woman added.
“Neither am I.”
“You’ll all get your pictures. I promise.” Holly turned on Travis. “Excuse me? What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t say, but it’s Travis. Travis Braddock.”
When her gaze sparked, he added, “I’m the groom’s brother.”
Her mind seemed to rifle for a memory before recognition dawned and she frowned. “The one who didn’t RSVP?”
“My job keeps me really busy.”
Too busy for your own brother’s wedding?
The question rang loud and clear in her thoughts and guilt niggled at him.
“We’re not very close.” He wasn’t sure why he told her. The words simply tumbled from his lips before he could stop them and he stiffened. “Listen, I don’t want to cause any trouble. I just wanted to say a few words to my brother.”
“He and Miranda are going to host a receiving line when they’re finished with pictures. I’m sure you can wish him well then. In the meantime, you should move on to the reception area.” Otherwise these seniors are going to kick your firm, tight, totally amazing buns all over this ranch and I’m going to let them.
Her thought echoed through his head and a strange sense of warmth stole through him. A grin tugged at his lips.
She motioned toward the massive tents set up just beyond the barn. “You can have something to drink and a bite to eat while you’re waiting.”
His groin tightened at the suggestion and his gaze shifted to her creamy white throat. He could see the faint pulse beneath her skin and his fangs tingled.
“There’s a full menu,” she continued. “Swedish meatballs. Pigs-in-a-blanket. Mini chimichangas. Southwest egg rolls. I’m sure you can find something you like.”
“I already have,” he said, staring deep into her eyes.
He expected to see passion flare in the blue depths, her lips to part, her body to lean toward his. Particularly since she thought his buns were firm and tight and totally amazing. That’s the way it always was when he focused his complete attention on a woman. She couldn’t help but fall under his spell.
Her eyes widened and then she blinked. Once. Twice. As if she couldn’t quite believe she’d heard him correctly. “What did you just say?”
“I said I already found something I like.” As anxious as he’d been to talk to Cody, he knew he wasn’t getting anywhere near his baby brother for the time being. Which meant he might as well slow down and kill a few minutes.
On top of that, he really was hungry. And it wasn’t a Swedish meatball or any of the other things she’d just rattled off he was craving. He’d been in such a hurry to get to Texas that he hadn’t even stopped to feed. “I like you, sugar.”
You.
Now he would see the flare of desire, the physical proof that she wanted him …
She stiffened and Travis knew in a glaring instant that she wasn’t going to fall all over him the way other women did. She was stronger than most. Determined. Different.
And damned if he didn’t like it.
2
WAIT A SECOND.
Wait just a cotton-pickin’ second.
Holly Simms shook her head and tried to clear the cobwebs from her brain. No way had she heard this cowboy say that he wanted her.
A real, balls-to-the-bull cowboy.
Her brain snagged on that all-important fact as she noted the worn tips of his black boots, the soft, molded jeans holding tight to his thighs, the smell of leather and fresh air that clung to him. She knew cowboys. She’d almost married one. But then her very own Mr. Tall, Dark & Irresistible had stood her up in front of God, the Skull Creek Cattleman’s Association and the entire Ladies Bingo club. The wedding had been called off and she’d been stuck with a six tier red velvet wedding cake to eat all by her lonesome.
She’d gained ten pounds thanks to her low-down sneaky rat of an ex-fiancé and learned a valuable lesson. Namely, that she was more cut out to plan a wedding than actually participate in one.
She’d spent the past three years as Skull Creek’s resident wedding planner. She’d orchestrated over one hundred ceremonies, overseeing everything from seating charts and bags of birdseed to sit down dinners and cages of live butterflies. She’d booked disc jockeys and ordered cakes and she’d even called in Marty and Serena, the 2010 Texas brisket cooking champions, to make an appearance at the Morgan reception last June. Marty and Serena had cooked all the food on-site over a live grill—much to the bride and groom’s delight—and handed out bottles of homemade Serena Sauce as wedding favors. The event had been a huge success and she’d even got a mention in the What’s Up Y’all? section of the Skull Creek Gazette. A huge coup that had doubled her business. Well, that and the fact that Eliza MacDonald, the eighty-eight-year-old owner of her only competition, From Courtin’ to Cuddlin', had needed a double hip replacement