Chapter Two
“Folks, we’re starting our descent to Bozeman Yellowstone International Airport. Please bring your seats and tray tables to an upright position.”
At the attendant’s announcement, Caitlyn straightened the chair from its reclined position, stretched her arms as far as the limited space allowed, and gazed outside. To the west stood the craggy Crazy Mountains. Their majesty always tugged something in her chest. Probably because she was used to seeing only flat farm lands and erect stone buildings.
Moments later, the plane touched down and braked before pulling into a slot.
A cart approached on the tarmac to collect the luggage.
She watched the hubbub of normal airport activity and once again felt grateful for those who performed their jobs to transport her safely. After gathering her computer bag, purse, and jacket from the overhead bin, she walked off the plane onto the bridge that led to the terminal.
Using her frequent flyer miles for a first-class upgrade had been worth every penny. Although she’d intended to use the two-and-a-half-hour flight to work on her testimony, she’d dozed for most of that interval instead. Now she felt energized, ready to reconnect with her cousins, and face whatever entertainment they had planned. The threat of two nights ago was almost forgotten.
Wonder who came to meet me? Moving with the rest of the crowd, she headed down the stairs toward baggage claim. If not so anxious to see her family, she’d take a moment or two to gaze at the wonderful artwork depicting this area of the state. The architecture looked natural in a western setting—thick wooden posts and ceiling beams gave a sense of a mountain cabin. And the spacious windows highlighted the region’s best features past the runways—the prairie and the mountains. The rich scent of coffee teased her nose, and she was tempted to stop for an espresso. Scanning the arrival lobby for the sight of a familiar face, she blinked and then moved her head back to the left. Her heart stuttered, and she sucked her lower lip into her mouth.
Leaning a shoulder against one of the sturdy wooden posts was a cowboy out of a novel by one of her favorite romance authors. Straw Stetson sat atop too-long brown hair, a black T-shirt stretched across a muscled chest, denims that hugged all the right places, and well-worn boots. This wet dream of a man held a sign with her name.
What? Am I still on the plane and dreaming this scenario?
Realization dawned, and she bit back a groan. Jude must be setting her up. As she took slow steps in his direction, Caitlyn squinted at the potential places where her cousin could hide before jumping out and snapping a picture of what must be shock and awe on Caitlyn’s face. When she’d made connections in airports via a name placard for her business travels, she’d never been met by a sign holder who looked like him. But, by the time only a two-foot space remained between her and the handsome man, no mischievously grinning blonde had popped out. This wasn’t a set-up. “You’re holding my name.”
He straightened and frowned, his gaze searching her face. “That’s not all I’d like to hold.”
“Excuse me.” Gasping, she stepped back. “What did you say?”
“I meant luggage, of course.” After a quick glance at the sign, he cleared his throat. “You’re sure you’re Caitlyn Auliffe, ma’am?”
Ma’am? Where had the cousins found this cowboy? “Have been all my life.” Maybe he was a local ex-rodeo competitor and lived through one-too-many kicks to the head. The sisters had a history of bringing home strays.
“Tell me what your luggage looks like, and I’ll grab it.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Then I’ll drive you out to the ranch.”
“A large silver hard case with a red-white-and-blue-striped ribbon tied to the handle.”
Raising a forefinger to tap the brim of his hat, he nodded. Then he turned and walked toward the baggage carousels, tossing away the sign at the first trash can.
Was that rhythmic saunter for her benefit, or did he naturally move with such long-legged ease? Heat bloomed in her cheeks, and she took a couple deep breaths. Mostly so she wouldn’t drool. Unable to resist, she kept him in sight, noting where he stopped near the mid-point of the carousel. He rose onto his toes to check on the progress, and his thighs strained the jeans. But then he leaned forward to grab a navy suitcase for a silver-haired woman, and the denim cupped his taut ass just right.
Good thing the drive to Dream Vistas usually took only twenty minutes. She wasn’t sure if she could be in a confined truck cab with him and keep control of her runaway lust. The ding of an arriving text message sounded, and she grabbed her phone from her purse. After typing a response to Malin that she was on the ground and waiting on luggage, she glanced up to see the cowboy rolling both her suitcase and the navy one in her direction. And he helps little old ladies. Warmth invaded her heart. He proved quite the contrast next to the short lady dressed in a lilac velour jogging suit.
The senior toddled along at his side. “I just can’t thank you enough, young man, for your help. Maybe I should have packed a smaller bag, but I had presents for my grandchildren. My grandson always runs late, even though I purposely told him my flight landed twenty minutes before the actual time.” Shaking her head didn’t move her tight curls as she tsk-tsked. “But he probably looked at that new-fangled phone he’s always holding.” She flicked a hand. “Like the one that gal has.”
Caitlyn heard the derision in the petite woman’s tone and felt like hiding the phone behind her back, but she stood her ground. Not that she hadn’t heard similar comments from her own family about how frequently she checked her electronics. But from a stranger?
“Uh, Mrs. Greenville, this gal is who I’m collecting. She’s a guest of Dream Vistas Ranch.” He glanced up and met her gaze. Then he flicked a finger on the handle. “This what you call a ribbon?”
The direct look from his navy blue eyes stuttered her breath. With a shiver, she glanced down to see only the knot remained on her suitcase. That’s odd. She traveled all the time, and that ribbon had been in place for several years. “Must have been torn in transit.” With a shrug, she turned to the woman and smiled. “Hello, Mrs. Greenville, I’m Caitlyn Auliffe.” She held up her hand with the smartphone. “Sometimes, these boxes are lifesavers.”
“Now, if Miss Auliffe wheels her own case, then I can help you.” He rolled the suitcase in her direction and held out his elbow to the smiling senior. “We’ll take yours over to the seats by the windows where you can watch for your grandson’s car.”
Mrs. Greenville reached over and clasped his elbow. “Your parents did a good job of raising you right, Rhys Morgan.”
“Why, thank you, ma’am.”
So, that’s the cowboy’s name. Reece. Unusual. Caitlyn rested her computer bag on the suitcase and guided it across the floor as she checked her email. If anything urgent arrived since the plane took off, she wanted to make use of the airport’s Wi-Fi service here in Belgrade before they disappeared into the rolling foothills. AKA the hinterlands.
Ah, one from Bertie. She tapped her finger on the screen and kept reading. Right until she bumped smack into a wall of warm male flesh. A mixture of musk and woodsy scents wrapped around her head. On reflex, she took a deep breath and then lifted her gaze. And noticed a cocked eyebrow and an even cockier grin. Awareness turned into irritation. “Excuse me.” She slid a step backward until air filled the gap between their bodies. But that air heated in an instant, and Caitlyn eased back another step.
When had a man affected her like this? Especially one so different from those she usually dated. Men with razor-sharp haircuts and three-piece designer suits.
“You all right?”
No, I think I’m running a fever. “Of course.” Her nod was vigorous enough to set her unbound hair dancing around her face. She flipped a strand of wavy hair over her shoulder. Where was her clip? “Shall we go?”
Rhys jerked his head twice toward Mrs. Greenville, who faced the windows. Then he leaned close. “Feels like we should wait until her grandson arrives.”
The deep rasp of his voice so close to her ear sent a zing down her neck. When her nipples tingled in delicious response, Caitlyn knew she was in trouble. She inched away and shoved her arms into the jacket sleeves. “Air conditioning is a bit cool.” Then she plopped onto the bench, adjusted her mid-calf floral skirt to cover as much leg as possible, and faked total absorption in her emails. In no way would she let any more of her curious interest show.
Over the next few minutes, Rhys got more information from Mrs. Greenville than Caitlyn knew about the next-door neighbors in her apartment building—and she’d lived there five years. So, maybe her first assessment about his intelligence was wrong. He was a nice man who had a laid-back attitude.
“Oh, there’s my grandson.” Mrs. Greenville bounced on her toes and pointed. “He always flies an American flag from his radio antenna.”
Antenna? Did cars still have those? Caitlyn glanced over her shoulder and spied an older model, open-air Jeep. The aerial rising several feet from the back bumper and roll bar indicated the vehicle was prepped for off-roading. Caitlyn bit back a smile. Best to let the sweet lady think that was a radio antenna. She’d worry less.
The driver stood so his head extended through what would have been the roof and beckoned her with a whole-arm wave.
“Well, I’d better hurry out there.” Mrs. Greenville reached for the handles of her suitcase.
“Stay put.” Rhys settled his Stetson tighter on his head and strode toward the automatic doors. “Your grandson will be inside right quick to collect your bag.”
Almost as if she had no control of her body, Caitlyn rose and turned to watch the impending showdown. Her pulse kicked up a notch. The pony-tailed twenty-something dropped to his seat, mouth agape. Rhys stood at the edge of the curb with arms crossed—a rigid stance that pulled his shirt tight across bunched muscles. She could count the individual bulges. He gave a head jerk that didn’t move the Stetson, and the grandson climbed out and trotted across the sidewalk. She couldn’t help but wonder what words had been exchanged or in what tone.
“Well, bless his heart.” Mrs. Greenville pressed a soft hand on Caitlyn’s arm. “That cowboy of yours sure gets things done, doesn’t he?”
Before Caitlyn could disavow the woman’s assumption of them being a couple, she was being introduced to Sonny and wishing Mrs. Greenville a nice visit with her family.
Then the sweet lady chattered away as the two walked from the terminal.
Seeing Rhys still standing on the sidewalk, Caitlyn gathered her belongings and steered her suitcase along the same path. She came to a stop a couple feet behind the cowboy who maintained his watchful bulldog position.
He didn’t move until the grandson loaded the suitcase, helped his grandmother into the vehicle, and the Jeep pulled away. Then he turned, took a long stride, and jerked backward, scraping his boots on the pavement so he didn’t crash into her.
An act she wouldn’t have objected to. “Is the situation resolved to your satisfaction? Can we go now?”
Narrowing his gaze, he reached for the handle and hefted the case onto his right shoulder. “Truck’s in Section C.”
He lifted the case like it didn’t weigh the twenty-eight pounds she’d seen on the airport scale. On purpose, she gave him a few seconds’ head start. The view from behind was too good to pass up. Men like him didn’t exist in St. Paul. Or, if they did, she was hanging out in the wrong spots to meet them. By the time she climbed into the truck cab as gracefully as she could—when she’d chosen the skirt and sweater outfit she’d forgotten about the ranch’s trucks with oversized tires—the cab had filled with cool air. She let out a grateful sigh and set her bags near her feet.
Rhys tapped his fingers on the top of the steering wheel. “Sorry if you’ve been inconvenienced, Miss Auliffe, but I don’t abide by people disrespecting their elders.” He jammed the gearshift into Drive and, after a quick glance over his left shoulder, pulled away from the curb.
Now what could she say to that? His brook-no-argument tone had her feeling like she’d been the one who expected granny to tote her own bag. The air in the cab hung heavy with uncertainty. She tapped her password into her phone, effectively shutting him out during the ride to the ranch. Whatever flirty thing she thought they had going on vaporized. No matter, she had more important ways to occupy her time on this visit.
Once the truck rolled under the metal arch proclaiming the ranch name, she let her hand drop to her lap so she could soak in the beloved setting. Since the first time she visited the ranch—which was just called the ‘homestead’ back then—many buildings and improvements expanded the operation. As the demand grew for people coming to spend a week in fishing, horseback riding, hiking, or doing everyday ranch chores, more accommodations were built. First to be built was a staff cabin to house the summer hires. Then, a few studio cabins to accommodate a single guest, a couple, or a small family. About five years ago, the two-story Gallatin Cabin nestled in the edge of the forest had been constructed.
Before the dust settled around the trunk, the passenger door wrenched open. “Katydid, you’re here.” A blonde-haired woman let loose a rebel yell.
Caitlyn was pulled out of the cab and enveloped in a boisterous, bouncing hug. Judit, Jude for short, the free spirit of the Langstrom sisters. This time, she wore her hair in a short, spiky cut reminiscent of Michelle Pfeiffer in Ladyhawke. One of Caitlyn’s favorite historical fantasy movies. Grinning, she moved back to arm’s length and studied the twenty-five year old in her flouncy denim skirt and white eyelet peasant blouse. “Hey, Jude. You’re looking very chic with this bob.”
“And you are too skinny, as usual.” Jude leaned forward and grabbed the computer bag. In a single move, she hung it from her shoulder before slipping an arm around Caitlyn’s waist. “We stocked your favorite merlot and that Irish white cheddar you can’t get enough of. Maybe that will put a pound or two on you.”
Hearing the caring concern behind Jude’s words, Caitlyn allowed her cousin to sweep her up the flagstone walkway and into the tile foyer of the three-story ranch house. Work had kept her busy, and she had always hated to cook for one.
Running footsteps and squeals came from the back of the house. “You’re finally here.” A grinning Malin stopped about three feet away and held open her arms.
Caitlyn knew her own grin was a mile wide as she scurried across the floor. “Good to see you.” She rocked back and forth in her cousin’s embrace, a lump growing in her throat. These three cousins were more like sisters because, for the first twelve years of her life, they’d all lived in St. Paul. Before Uncle Artur inherited the Langstrom heritage homestead and moved the family to Montana.
Bootsteps on the entry tile behind her drew closer and stopped.
The hair on Caitlyn’s neck prickled, as if her body was attuned to the cowboy’s presence. From the corner of her eye, she spotted her oldest cousin, Tilda, waving over Rhys.
He heeded the beckoning wave and crossed the room then leaned close to confer for several moments before disappearing around the corner toward the kitchen.
Only after he left did she realize he carried her silver suitcase. She wondered what the discussion was about, denying the stab in her chest could possibly be jealousy. Over a guy she’d known less than an hour? Then she focused on the conversation buzzing around her. “Of course, I want to go riding. Can’t wait to change into my jeans and boots.”
A glance around told her redecorating had been made inside the lodge. “Whoa. Who’s responsible for the designer additions?” The main sitting room had always held massive leather couches and armchairs, with the requisite elk or moose antlers hung high on a couple walls. The geometric Native American-influence woven rugs and pillows really set the western tone. On the wooden end tables stood small lamps with pierced tin shades. She ran a finger over the random designs. “I love these.”
“I have a friend who makes them. Isn’t Gabe talented?” Jude’s cheeks reddened.
Caitlyn giggled. “Will I be hearing more about him this weekend?”
“Maybe.”
Tilda rushed into the room. “Caitlyn, hello and welcome. I’m not being rude. Just coordinating some last-minute room shuffling is all.” She gave a hug, and then held Caitlyn at arm’s length and crinkled her nose. “Cuz, your clothes are hanging off your body.”
Maybe I’ve lost a few pounds. Caitlyn resisted glanced down at herself which would only lend credence to Tilda’s and Jude’s comments. But they hadn’t seen her in months and shouldn’t have even noticed. She lifted what she hoped looked like a nonchalant shrug. “They’re not hanging. I like a looser fit.” What she really wanted to know was what Tilda and Rhys had been whispering about. “So, you’re hosting a wedding this weekend. Sounds exciting.”
Eyes wide, Tilda clamped both hands to her head and shook it. Her loose cornsilk-yellow waves swayed around her cheeks. “Originally, I capped the event at fifty people, but now I’ve been told to expect seventy. Those are the overnight guests. Catering order was for a hundred. Now, I’m concerned that won’t be sufficient. At least a dozen have already arrived.” She clasped Caitlyn’s hands and squeezed. “I really wanted seclusion from the main house, and I held out from renting the lower floor of Gallatin Cabin for as long as I could. But, when the bride begged for more beds, I couldn’t pass up the rental fees.”
“Til even rented out our studio cabins. Strangers will be invading our personal spaces.” Malin slapped a hand on her cheek and affected a stern frown. “We spent yesterday boxing up all our personal stuff. The hands stuffed them into the rafters over the garage.”
Tilda scoffed and shook a finger. “You’ll be thanking me when we can shut down for the season on schedule with reserves in the bank to last the winter. Otherwise, we’ll have to develop programs for sleigh rides and ice fishing.”
Malin gave Tilda a one-arm hug. “I’m only teasing. Believe me, I’m happy to conduct our giant slumber party anywhere.”
“Oh no.” Guilt descended on Caitlyn. Maybe she should have considered all the wedding activity before fleeing to the ranch as her sanctuary. “This all sounds very chaotic…and crowded. Should I go to Ruby’s in town?”
“Not Ruby’s anymore.” Jude sat on one end of a sofa. “Now the place is called Crazy Mountain Bed and Breakfast and has new owners. But all their rooms are booked. I checked yesterday.” She grinned. “I told you this wedding was a big deal. A major event for this region of only a thousand or so citizens.”
“Mal’s right. Who cares about being inconvenienced for a couple of days? We gained a three-day visit with our favorite cousin.” Tilda stepped forward and linked her arm in Caitlyn’s. “Don’t worry. I saved the modular unit for our use. A couple of us will have to sleep together, but we’ve done that lots of times before.” She laughed. “We’ll have everything we need. Not that we’ll do much more than sleep and hang our clothes there. This weekend, everyone pitches in—employees on the payroll and family, who do it for love.”
Inwardly, Caitlyn cringed. This wedding was more involved and potentially time-consuming than she imagined. Of course, when she’d booked her ticket, she was only concerned with getting away from St. Paul. Montana had shone like a beacon of safety.. But without the privacy of her own room, when would she find time to complete her work? “When is the ceremony scheduled? Sunday early afternoon?”
“Oh no, that would be too logical and sensible.” Wincing, Tilda ducked her head and glanced around. “Don’t want to badmouth the couple’s plans in earshot of any guests.” She huffed out a breath. “Sunset on Sunday, with the vows timed so the happy couple says ‘I do’ as the sun slips out of sight.”
For whatever silly reason, her eyes burned. Caitlyn tucked her hands under her chin. “That’s kind of romantic.” Then she glanced around at three shocked expressions. Or not.
“Yeah, maybe, but totally impractical from a host’s perspective.” Jude jumped up and waved her hands. “How many weddings have you attended that played out as scheduled? We are really counting on good reviews of this weekend’s event to spread the word about our destination wedding locale.”
A throat cleared. “Excuse me, Miss Langstrom.”
Three blonde heads turned toward the raspy voice. “Yes?” Then the sisters looked at one another and laughed.
Caitlyn shifted her stance until she spotted the speaker. How did he make cotton clothing look so good?
“Rhys.” Tilda flashed a smile and took a step toward the doorway where he stood. “If you don’t want that confusing response each time, use our first names.”
“Yes, ma’am. Uh, Tilda. I took care of that task we discussed.” His gaze flicked toward Caitlyn and then returned to his boss. “If my work here is done, I’ll head out to the barn.”
“Yes, that’s fine. Thank you.”
He lifted his hat then turned and walked through the dining room to the side door. His boots echoed on the plank flooring.
Caitlyn watched until he rounded a corner and moved out of sight. Her heart pounded a bit faster at the swagger of the confident male. Aware the room had gone quiet, she turned to see her cousins staring with raised eyebrows.
“See something you like, Katydid?” Jude pointed to where Rhys disappeared and then laughed. “You should go for it.”
Hoping her cheeks didn’t flush bright red, she shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “He’s not my type at all. What could I possibly have in common with a cowboy?” With her hidden hand, she crossed fingers against the lie. What did having anything in common have to do with being hot for his body?
“Ah, she protests too much.” Malin grinned and wagged a forefinger back and forth.
Maybe their paths wouldn’t cross again, and her resolve wouldn’t be tested much further. She let out a sigh through barely opened lips. Even she didn’t believe that hogwash. What was the fun in not having another go at practicing her flirting skills?