Firelight at Mustang Ridge (15 page)

“Not cheesy,” he said, voice going low and husky as he slid his arms around her. “In fact, I'd say it's pretty darn perfect. Just like you.”

“Ha!” She flattened her palms on his chest, but nestled close rather than pushing away. “Flattery will get you nowhere, buster.”

“Then how about we take a trip out to Hyrule to open up that vein of aqua—all aboveground, I promise—and go out to dinner later? You're off today, right? Are you free?”

Excitement sparked in her eyes, reminding him that he'd gotten damn lucky finding a woman who liked him just the way he was. “I am, and definitely yes to Hyrule. As for dinner, yes there, too, but if we're going to do this,” she pointed from him to her and back, “then we alternate who pays.”

How was it that she could fascinate him, frustrate him, and level him off all at once? “I believe I've mentioned that I'm rich. And as you can see”—he gestured around them—“I'm not blowing my budget on décor. So how about you let me spend some of it on a night out? I promise I'll still be able to make payroll.”

She nodded like they were in perfect agreement. “Fine, then I get our next dinner out.” He groaned, and she shot him a sidelong grin. “And speaking of playing with rocks, I wanted to talk to you about that. I had this idea for a guest field trip I'd like to offer at the ranch—”

“Sold,” he said, pushing aside the ghosts and swinging her back toward the bedroom.

“You haven't even heard my idea yet!” she protested.

“So? I trust you.” And he didn't say that lightly. At all. “So why don't we fool around for a bit, then we can throw together some breakfast and you can tell me what I just got myself into?”

*   *   *

“Rockhound Week!” Krista did a little jiggle-the-baby happy dance. “Danny, I love it. It's brilliant!”

“Well, maybe not a whole week,” Danny said, not wanting to go overboard with it, even though she and Sam had brainstormed plenty of gem-focused guest activities over the past week, refining the concept before she brought it to Krista. “I know you've got your themes all planned out for the summer, so we were thinking just a day or two at first, as a side offering for the dudes. Sam could give a talk about geology and show them some of the inventions he and his guys are working on, and we could take whoever wants to go up to the claim
for a day or two of rock hunting. So far up there, they've found turquoise, topaz, and tourmaline. There's even a fossil bed!”

“Listen to you, turning into a rock expert.” Krista winked. “Sam must be a good teacher.”

“He's . . .” Danny hesitated, not sure where the line fell between friendship and privacy, between girl talk and gossip. Finally, she said, “He's smart, funny, and loyal. He loves the outdoors as much as I do, loves the land more than me.” Her pulse picked up a notch at what she was saying, and the tone she heard in her own voice. “He's a special guy. I'm glad we decided to take a chance on each other.”

He had left for Misty Hill a few hours ago, and she already missed him.

Krista's eyes went soft. “You really get him, don't you?”

“I'd say we get each other.” And if there were some doors she was better off not opening—literally and figuratively—she was okay with that. Losing his father had taken a toll. “As far as rock hunting goes,” she added, “I'm no expert.” Though she
had
found a fingertip-size, top-quality topaz the other evening, earning her Queen of the Claim status for the day. “But I sure am having fun, and I think the guests would, too. So if you're into it—”

“Oh, I'm into it.” Krista tapped her lower lip, considering. “Next week is Singles Week, which might not be the best fit—the singles tend to be more interested in each other than the activities. The week after, though . . . Yes, that would work. It might actually be perfect. It's a Reunion Week, heavy on the families. I'm betting
some of them would jump at the chance to ride out for an overnight.”

“Ride? We were thinking of ATVs, or maybe chartering a helicopter.”

“But wouldn't it be way cooler to ride? Dude ranch, after all. And the guest horses are good about picket lines and portable electric fencing. Foster and Junior can go with you to manage the herd.” Her expression brightened. “Strike that. Wyatt and I will! We haven't camped out since before Abby was born. She's about ready to stay the night with her grandma, and I'm past ready to have a night away.”

Remembering how many times the new mom had texted Wyatt the afternoon of their shopping trip, Danny wasn't so sure about that. Drily, she said, “And that week being the one right before the wedding has nothing to do with it, I'm sure.”

“Hush!” Krista flapped a hand at her. “I wouldn't be ducking out of anything important. And this sounds really fun. We'll get Gran in on it, have her come up with some gem-related meals, like Emerald Salad and Ruby Red Potatoes.”

“Nice,” Danny said approvingly. “And something with blue diamonds, in honor of Babcock Gems—maybe blueberry pie with diamond-shaped cutouts? Or—” A digital bleat cut her off. “Is that your phone?”

“I think it's yours,” Krista said, amused.

“Well, would you look at that?” Danny dug it out. “It doesn't usually get bars out here.” She checked the ID, expecting to see Sam's name. Instead, she got an unfamiliar number with a Wyoming exchange. “Hello?”

“Danny, it's Shelby. Whatever you do, don't say my
name! And act casual! You can't let on like you're talking to me.”

It took a major effort not to screw up her face and say “What the hell?” Instead, scrambling, she came up with, “Oh, hey, Mom.”

“Good! Now I need you to ditch Krista and meet me and Jenny on the other side of the barn. But you can't let her know what you're doing. Got it?”

“Er . . . What's up with Dad?”

“We'll tell you what's going on when you get here. Hurry!” There was a dual giggle, and the line went dead.

Putting her hand over the bottom of her phone, like she didn't want the person on the other end to overhear, Danny said, “Do you mind if I take this where I get better reception? She and I keep missing each other.”

“Of course! Please.” Krista waved her off. “Though don't even think you're getting out of here without giving me the four-one-one on how things are going with you and—” She gave the phone a wary look and mouthed,
S-A-M
.

“I will, I promise. But until then, I've got one word for you.” Still pretending her mom was on the phone, she mimicked Krista, mouthing,
W-O-W
. Then, as Krista's laugher pealed out behind her, she scampered to the barn, pretending to be doing a “Can you hear me now?” with her mom.

Jenny's Jeep was waiting on the other side, out of view from the main house. When Danny came around the corner, the passenger door flung open and Shelby stuck her head out, waving madly. “Hurry! Come on!”

The vehicle was already rolling when Danny got there, and it accelerated as she jumped in and slammed the door. Jenny was behind the wheel, Shelby in the back, and the air crackled with excitement.

Heart pounding—from the run, the ruse—Danny buckled in, cracked the window, and demanded, “Okay, you two, what gives?”

“We're kidnapping you,” Shelby announced. “You're in our power for the next couple of hours.”

“That sounds good to me. What are we doing?”

“Planning Krista's bachelorette party, of course!”

T
he first stop on Operation Bachelorette Plan was a honky-tonk bar called the Rope Burn—a low, sprawling wooden building with a big neon sign and a dirt parking area, where a couple of motorcycles were pulled up to an old-timey hitching rail.

The door was heavy, the interior dim after the bright afternoon sunlight, and it took a moment for Danny's eyes to adjust. When they did, she found herself standing just inside what could've been a Hollywood set labeled
COWBOY BAR
. It was that kitschy, that wonderful, from the boots and coiled ropes hung over the bar to the mechanical bull in a fenced-off section at the center of the dance floor. The place was midmorning-deserted and looked to be closed, but a cook popped his head out of the kitchen, caught sight of Shelby, and waved. “Hey. You guys want anything?”

“We're good. We're just going to put our heads together, make sure we've got all the plans nailed down.”

“Cool. You need anything, just give us a shout.” He disappeared back through the swinging doors, cutting off the kitchen noises.

Small towns
, Danny thought.
Gotta love them
.
Especially when you were hanging with a couple of very well-liked locals.

“So?” Jenny gave her a hip bump. “What do you think?”

She held up her hands. “This is your show. I'm just along for the ride.”

“Speaking of riding.” Shelby patted the mechanical bull with obvious affection. “How about taking a spin on Old Snortypants here?”

The usual plain, leather-covered slab of a mechanical bull had been taken up a few notches by the addition of a realistic-looking bull's head, complete with fiery red eyes and a pair of wickedly pointed horns that flexed easily when she touched them, proving to be made of foam rubber, the head of stuffed plush. The upgrades didn't stop there, either, with a tail at the back, foam-rubber legs hanging from each corner, tipped with fat cloven hooves that looked like they had been lovingly hand-stitched . . . and a pair of blue jeans hitched over its back legs for comic relief.

Tempting
, Danny thought, lips curving, but figured she should really wait a couple of weeks—not because she needed the audience, alcohol, or music, but because Jenny and Shelby had assured her that dancing and riding the mechanical bull were the name of the game when it came to a cowgirl's bachelorette party in Three Ridges. “Snortypants, huh?”

“He's had a bunch of names through the years,” a new voice said from the other side of the room. “Snortypants is the latest, thanks to Dingle Reedy losing his jeans in a bet last summer.” A woman came through from a back room. Short and curvy, with bottle-red hair,
high-heeled boots, and a pair of jeans that had probably taken a while to get into but sure made a statement, she was a sexy fortysomething with a wide smile. Making a beeline, she held out a hand. “You must be Danny! I've heard so much about you.”

“This is Bootsy,” Jenny put in as Danny found the handshake turning into a happy hug. “Owner of Bootsy's Saddlery, and our local queen of style. Well, outside of Della, that is.”

Bootsy gave a breezy wave. “Dell is a genius with the vintage stuff, no question about it. But when it comes to the latest and greatest rodeowear, I'm your girl.”

“So . . .” Shelby let it draw out. “Did you get them?”

“Of course I did! I wouldn't let you down.” Bootsy swept a hand to a nearby booth, where a couple of flat shipping boxes were stacked on the table. “Your wish is my command.”

“Ooh!” Jenny headed for the boxes. “Show us, show us!”

Not really sure what, exactly, was going to come out of those boxes—the girls had been closemouthed aside from divulging that Krista's bachelorette party would kick off at the local steakhouse, where they would have dinner in a private room before heading for the Rope Burn—Danny followed the others and watched as Bootsy opened the first box and pulled out something white, fringed, and sparkly. “Voilà!”

Danny craned to see. “What is it?”

Jenny took the leather, snapped it open with a fringed flourish, and looped what proved to be a pair of snow-white chaps around her hips. She buckled the belt at her waist, zipped the wings, and announced,
“They're the tackiest rodeo princess chaps ever. And they're perfect.”

The word
BRIDE
was painted along each leg in black-lined silver, and spelled out across the back of the belt in rhinestones.

Shelby whooped. “You can say that again! Krista is going to be horrified.”

And, Danny knew, she would love it, too—because her sister and best friend had arranged it for her, wanting her to be the star of the show.

“Don't forget the hat.” Bootsy went into the second, bigger box and came up with a snow-white cowboy hat that trailed a pouf of veil in all directions, making it look like a bridal jellyfish.

“Nobody could forget that hat.” Shelby plopped it on Jenny's head. “Now
that's
making a statement!”

“Yeah,” Jenny agreed, striking a pose near Snortypants's head. “Step back, cowboys. Here comes the bride!”

“Did you guys do stuff like this for your weddings?” Danny asked, laughing.

“No way.” Jenny's headshake was emphatic. “Nick and I kept the whole deal pretty low-key. Me, Krista, and Shelby treated ourselves to a spa weekend instead of doing a bachelorette party, Nick had a few beers with his buddies, and we swapped vows up at Makeout Point and came back to the ranch for a barbecue.”

“It was fabulous,” Shelby put in. “Totally their style.”

And more like Danny's. Not that she was looking at getting married anytime soon. “What about you and Foster?”

“We had our ceremony at his family's ranch, the Double-Bar H. He had just bought it back and the
renovations hadn't gotten far, but it's hard to beat the view. It was the second time around for both of us, and we didn't want anything big and fancy.” Her lips curved. “Lizzie was my maid of honor, and Foster had the JP add a little piece, asking her to be his daughter. So all three of us got married, really.”

“That's lovely.”

“I thought so. And very much our speed.” Shelby flicked the veil as it floated near her. “But now we're changing gears and doing things a little differently, because our girl deserves to know she's the star!”

“Krista was always the one who wanted to play wedding,” Jenny put in, handing the hat back to Bootsy. “Between Abby, the guests, and trying to keep things on an even keel with Mom, we're afraid she's not having much fun with the whole wedding thing at this point. So we want to make sure the bachelorette party is ridiculously entertaining.”

“Which brings us to . . .” Bootsy pulled out a stack of screaming pink cowgirl hats with spring-loaded antennae topped with sparkly hearts that bobbed and swung as she held one out to Shelby. “For the rest of the party.”

“Perfect!” She stuck one on her head and made a duck face. “How do I look?”

“Like a cross between a flamingo and a giant ant,” Jenny said, and whipped out her phone to snap a picture.

Shelby swatted at her. “No paparazzi allowed.” Turning to Danny, she tipped the silly hat at a rakish angle. “What do you think?”

“I think you look like you're gearing up to have a ton of fun.”

“Then I'd say it's mission accomplished!” She stripped off the hat and tossed it back to Bootsy. “Perfect. Every bit of it. You've got twenty of the pink hats?”

“Plus a few extras. A good bachelorette party always seems to gain a couple of people at the last minute. And this is going to be a good one.” She put the hat on, tipped it and posed, somehow managing to turn the antennae into a fashion statement rather than a joke. “I'll bring these with me when I come out to the ranch, and we can load them in the shuttle. You still looking at five o'clock for the kidnapping?”

Danny raised a brow. “Kidnapping?”

Jenny's grin turned wicked. “Did we forget to mention this is going to be a surprise party? We're going to dress up like bandits, hit the trail ride on its way back to the ranch, grab Krista off her horse, and ride out to meet the shuttle, which'll be waiting on the main road. We've got a suite at the Card Sharps' Inn for the night, where we'll have a shower, clean clothes, and a bottle of champagne waiting to get the night started off right.”

Shelby added, “We've got the guys in on it—they'll make sure she's out riding when and where we need her to be.”

Did it make Danny a bad person to envy a good friend for her other friends? “It sounds awesome. She's going to love it.”

Something must have come through in her voice, even though she hadn't meant it to, because Shelby bumped her with an elbow. “Hello? You're totally riding with us. It wouldn't be the Girl Zone without you!” And Jenny nodded emphatically.

Could it really be that simple? To Danny, coming
from a world where respect and friendship were earned by how fast you made the summit and how many bruises you could take before you complained, it seemed impossible. She was peripherally aware of Bootsy giving a little wave and heading for the kitchen. But mostly she was looking at her friends.

Friends
. When had that become such a powerful word in her universe?

“Don't look so surprised,” Jenny advised. “Like it or not, you're one of us now. And no matter where you go, you'll always have that to fall back on.”

“I don't . . .” When her voice threatened to crack, she stopped and blew out a breath. Tried again. “Some days, when I'm sitting out at Blessing Valley or on Sam's back deck and watching the sun set, I think about that day you called me out of the blue . . .” She had been feeling particularly low, alone in the store while her family cheered Charlie on, and found herself blurting out the whole story—about the accident, breaking up with Brandon, losing her nerve. “We barely knew each other, but the next thing I knew, you called back and told me to pick a Saturday and buy a ticket to Wyoming.” Her breath whistled out. “I can't thank you enough.”

“Poosh!” Jenny said, borrowing her gran's favorite saying, which seemed to cover everything from
You're welcome for the biscuit
to
No biggie. All I did was throw you a lifeline
. “Besides,” Jenny added, “We owe you for stepping up to work at the ranch. Did Krista tell you she's already filled Eat from Nature Week for next year? The word is spreading.”

“And word of mouth is a wonderful thing,” Shelby
added. Expression shifting, she glanced at Jenny and then back to Danny, and said, “Speaking of which . . . we had an ulterior motive for bringing you out here today.”

She blinked. “Oh?”

“Sit down.” Correctly reading Danny's sudden
uh-oh
, Shelby said, “Don't stress. It's good. At least we think it's good.”

When the three of them were tucked into a booth, with Danny on one side, Jenny and Shelby on the other, looking serious and hopeful, Jenny slid a piece of paper across the table—lined notepaper, with a numbered list written in her neat block printing.

Danny stared at it, seeing that the first line read:
There are other dude ranches and B and Bs in the area looking to expand their offerings
. “What's this?” But a little shiver went through her, because she already knew.

Shelby folded her hands on the tabletop. “It's the top five reasons we think you should stay in Three Ridges and start your own business.” She tapped the page.

Number four—they were counting backward—was
We love you and we don't want you to leave
.

Emotion lumped in Danny's throat. “You guys . . . I don't know what to . . . Wow.” She blinked back the threat of tears, quick and unexpected. “Maybe. I don't know. I love it here, but there's my family to think about, and the store.” In Maine, where the trees were very close together.

“That's your decision to make,” Jenny said. “But take it from the rebel Skye—the family business isn't the right answer for everybody.”

“But Krista . . .”

“Will understand if you decide to go off on your own,” Shelby said firmly. “Sure, she'll be sad. She might even get cranky, especially if she finds out before the wedding.” The corner of her mouth kicked up. “I'll bet you a hundred bucks and a ride on Snortypants that she's planning on asking you to stay on at the ranch. But . . .” She tapped the page. Number three was
You're going to outgrow Mustang Ridge
. “You may not see it now, but it'll happen sooner than you think, because . . .”
Tap, tap
. Number two was
You really want to be your own boss
.

Jenny leaned in. “Trust us on this one. If you've got a marketable skill set—which you do—and you've got the street smarts to run a business—check mark in that box, too—then you can make the life you want out here.”

“I think . . .” Danny scrubbed both hands over her face. “I can't breathe.” Because maybe she'd been having some of those same thoughts—she hadn't gone as far as a list, but she didn't have much in the way of arguments against the idea, either. As much as she loved Krista and Mustang Ridge, she wanted something that was hers. She hadn't fully admitted it, though, even to herself. Because that meant coming to grips with the fact that she was thinking about staying.

Oh, holy moly. She was really thinking about staying.

“That's only reasons two through five,” she said, sounding about as shaky as she felt. “What's number one?”

Triumphant, Shelby flipped the page to reveal a pen-sketched logo—the silhouette of a curly-haired woman standing on the apex of a craggy climb, with a big dog at her heels and a hawk in the sky above, surrounded by an arc that suggested the setting sun. Below it was
the company name:
WYOMING WALKABOUTS
. And below that was their number one reason why she should stay and start her own business:
Because we dare you
.