Chapter 1

Rosie Gomez was a woman on a mission. She had a wedding to plan, and nothing or no one would stand in her way. This was her coup de grace, her swan song, her last large-scale event in her event-planning career. It would be perfect or by God she’d die trying.

The Texas Rose Ranch—second largest ranch in Texas—was a wonderful backdrop for an outdoor wedding, only it was remote… and well… remote.

Rosie smoothed out imaginary wrinkles on her red business suit and stepped out onto the front lawn of the house of her best friend, CanDee McCain, soon to be CanDee Rose. The icepick heels of Rosie’s Loubies—bought secondhand off of eBay—sank into the grass as she pulled out her tape measure and measured the distance between the front porch and a large clump of oak trees.

Behind her, a mechanical buzzing noise signaled that her other best friend, Justus Rose, was headed this way. Rosie turned around and shaded her eyes from the April sunshine. Justus rode up the driveway behind the wheel of a Bobcat. She was the best landscape architect in the business, and she was in the middle of renovating CanDee’s front yard.

Justus parked next to Rosie, turned off the Bobcat, and lifted the cage door that kept her from getting hurt. “You really should invest in some boots.”

“I have lots of boots. Their heels would sink into the ground too.” A professional dressed as a professional should, and that included heels even when she was traipsing through a cow pasture. She didn’t make the rules.

Justus shot her a yeah-right look. “Work boots. You need work boots.”

“All of my work boots have heels.” Her oldest sister had drummed “Dress for the job you want and not the job you have” into her head from an early age. Only, now that she thought about it, managing the new Texas Rose Ranch Bed-and-Breakfast probably did require ugly work boots. She glanced at Justus’s lace-up, man-style work boots. Rosie mashed her lips together. Over her dead body was she wearing those. As a woman, there were four things she wouldn’t compromise on—getting equal pay for women, stopping domestic violence, ending childhood hunger, and not wearing ugly shoes. Those were the four pillars on which she’d built her life and she wasn’t about to change now.

Justus held her leg up so Rosie could inspect her mud-spackled boots. “Trust me, your feet will thank you.”

Rosie’s toes recoiled in disgust.

“They’re even worse up close.” She shook her head. “I’m good.”

“Don’t knock them until you’ve tried them.” Justus unrolled a set of landscape plans. “You need to sign off on these because I’m starting the demo today. AG is with her father. Rowdy read another baby-rearing book and he’s dying to prove to the world that he knows everything about babies.”

Rowdy, second oldest son of the Texas Rose Ranch family and a master vintner, was Justus’s new husband. Their seven-year-old son, Hugh, wasn’t happy that two months ago his mother had given birth to a baby girl—AG, short for Anna-Grace.

“Maybe I’ll stop by the winery and give Hugh and AG a kiss.” Rosie had been in and out of the ranch weekly for the last year. Now she was moving here permanently. Or she would be once her bags that were still in her car were unpacked in the rustic cottage turned guesthouse. Taking a leap of faith and investing all of her savings in the Texas Rose Ranch Bed-and-Breakfast was the first truly risky thing she’d ever done. And now she was part owner and the full-time manager.

Justus grinned from ear to ear. “The whole ranch has baby fever. AG has more uncles than she knows what to do with.”

“That’s because she’s the cutest baby in the world.” Rosie wasn’t biased. It was true.

“Rowdy’s convinced she’s a genius and that the gibberish she’s begun to babble is in fact Mandarin Chinese.” Justus pointed to the landscape plans. “Are you sure you want a waterfall right there?”

“Do you have a better idea?” The wedding was less than two months away. Every single change would cost her precious time.

Justus pointed to the space next to a copse of trees. “Putting it right there makes it look like it was always a part of the landscape.”

Rosie stared at the spot and readjusted her mental image of the layout for the ceremony. If she moved three of the tables to the other side of the yard, then the waterfall could go there. She had to remember that this was CanDee’s front yard, and CanDee had to live with it after the wedding. “You’re right, it would look much better between those trees.”

“I’m glad you agree.” Justus threw her an over-bright smile. “Because we need to discuss these rose bushes.” She pointed to a line of bushes on the plans.

“What’s wrong with the rose bushes?” They would scent the air, as well as give lots of pops of color.

“They’re lined up in perfect little rows like crops waiting to be harvested.” Justus ran her finger along the line of roses.

“Yes, and that’s a problem why?” Rosie’s life worked better with everything lined up in little rows.

“Because nature doesn’t do symmetrical rows. In two years, the canes of the roses will completely overtake the front porch and the gazebo.” Justus pointed to the area that hopefully by next week would have the gazebo.

“How do we fix that?” Rosie knew that she needed to think long-term for this front yard, but she was having a hard time seeing the yard through the forest of wedding plans.

Justus but an arm around Rosie’s shoulders. “Remember that time in college when we spent that weekend volunteering at the at-risk-teen camp and they did all of those trust exercises?”

“Yes. Having to free-fall back off of a platform and trust that the others were going to catch me was literally my worst nightmare.” Rosie shivered at the memory. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust total strangers to catch her, it was more that she was a control freak and couldn’t control the situation. Realization dawned. “Oh God, you’re going to toss my plans and ask me to trust you.”

Justus’s smile turned used-car-salesman bright. “Don’t worry. I’m going to catch you, unlike those ungrateful kids at that stupid camp. Who knew that you could actually break your tailbone?”

“I had to sit on that dumb donut pillow for weeks.” Rosie’s palms began to sweat. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, because you know I totally trust you with my life, but …”

Just because she trusted someone with her life, didn’t mean that she trusted them with her work.

She glanced at the landscape plans. This was her final wedding. It had to be perfect.

“I think you need to sit down. Your face is turning this awful shade of mint green.” Justus led her to the front steps. “Just put your head between your knees until the nausea passes.”

“No, I’m fine. I’m good.” Rosie put her head between her knees anyway.

“I know you’re a crazy control freak, but you’re going to have to trust me on this.” Justus patted her back.

“‘You’re going to have to trust me on this.’ Words every control freak never wants to hear.” The nausea was beginning to pass. On her very first wedding job, she’d trusted the cake maker to interpret the beachy theme of the wedding. It had been a disaster. The cake had been neon blue with plastic seashells all over it. Rosie had thrown together some cream cheese frosting and slapped it on the cake. Luckily, the bride and groom had loved the minimalist beach vibe she hadn’t known she was going for.

“Come on, you can do it.” Justus hip-bumped her. “Walk out on the ledge and take that leap of faith.”

“You know I’m afraid of heights.” Life would be so much easier if she could just delegate everything and not have to do anything herself, but she couldn’t work that way, and she wasn’t interested in changing anytime soon.

“Would it make you feel better if I drew up some plans and had you sign off on them?” Justus patted her back one more time and then stood and made her way to the Bobcat. She pulled out a second set of plans. “Well, what do you know? I happen to have a second set of plans right here.”

“Funny how that worked out.” Rosie sat up.

Justus rolled them out on the front porch. “I even colored them in so you’ll get a feel for how the plants work together.”

Rosie studied the plans. “I like how you moved the roses to the middle but still left room for the walkway.” Damn, these were way better than her plans. She leaned in closer to get a better look. “What are the plants lining the walkways?”

“Lavender. It gives off a nice scent, has pretty purple flowers, and it repels mosquitoes.” Justus ran her finger along the walkways. “I’ve also incorporated lemon thyme and rosemary for added bug protection.”

“Any mosquito with an ounce of self-preservation wouldn’t dare show up to one of my events.”

“On the off chance that mosquito HQ didn’t get the word out to all of their bloodsucking membership, I think we should go all backup plan with the herbs.” Justus pointed to the new waterfall. She’d toned down the height and made the pond beneath much wider. It looked like it had been there since God populated the earth.

“I like it.” It was hard for Rosie to relinquish control, but on rare occasions it needed to be done. She swallowed down the jaw-dropping fear and nodded. “Go for it.”

“Really, just like that? I thought there’d been some yelling, or at least some vomiting.” Justus sounded disappointed. “I’d blocked off most of my morning just to talk you down off of the ledge. It’s kind of a letdown.”

“What’s kind of a letdown?” CanDee opened the front door.

“She just okayed the new plans.” Justus stared into Rosie’s eyes. “Are you high?”

CanDee laugh-snorted. “If you really think Rosie’s high, I’m going to need to see your eyes, because I’m thinking that you’re high.”

Justus widened her eyes like Bela Lugosi and said in her cheesiest Dracula impression, “Look into my eyes.”

“Please, that was a terrible Bela Lugosi impression.” Rosie widened her eyes. “Look into my eyes.”

Justus stuck out her tongue. “Okay, fine, yours really is better. Damn your Hispanic accent. You sound just like him.”

“I thought he was Hungarian.” CanDee sat down beside Rosie.

“Yes, but he sounds Hispanic.” Justus rolled up the plans and shook her head. “She just signed off on them. No hassle.”

“That’s a shame. We had this whole plan. It involved tears and pleading and finally threats of violence.” CanDee shook her head. “Total letdown.” She grinned broadly. “I do take comfort in the fantastic morning sex I just had.”

Justus reached around Rosie and high-fived CanDee. “I partook in the same thing this morning.”

“I hate both of you.” Rosie hadn’t been on a date, much less had sex, in over a year.

“There are plenty of men around here. You should pick one.” Justus gestured to the man-free front yard.

“Yes, I can see that they’re beating down my door.” Rosie stood and brushed off the dirt from her bottom. “Perhaps they’re all at the cottage now. I’d better run home and check.”

She was kidding, and they knew her well enough to know that.

“I thought you were going to talk to her about work boots.” CanDee pointed to Rosie’s red Loubies.

“I did, and she rejected them like a tent revival preacher casts out Satan.” Justus threw up her hands. “I’ve done all I can.”

“I don’t see you wearing work boots.” Rosie pointed to CanDee’s strappy-sandal-clad feet.

“I’m not on my feet all the time. I’m a writer. We live the soft life. My morning commute consists of walking from the coffeepot to my home office.” Her eyes scrunched up and she tapped her index finger against her pursed lips. “Come to think of it, I should just move the coffeepot into my office. That way I don’t have to walk anywhere.”

“That’s just lazy.” Justus shook her head. “And sad.”

“Lazy is such an ugly word. I prefer efficient.” CanDee stood and stretched. “I’m headed to town for seven crates of sticky notes and enough blue Jell-O to suspend Lefty’s boots in. Need anything?”

CanDee and an old ranch hand named Lefty had a hate/hate relationship that involved lots of practical jokes and smack talk. Rosie shrugged. Everyone needed a hobby.

“No, I think I’m good.” Rosie made her way to the golf cart Lefty had assigned to her. She’d passed both his written and oral driving tests with flying colors, but it had been her relationship with Justus that had won the old ranch hand over. Simply put, he loved Justus and thought CanDee was Satan’s sassy stepsister.

CanDee frowned at Rosie’s golf cart. “Kiss-ass.”

CanDee had been permanently banned from using all machines owned by the Texas Rose Ranch, but she stole one from time-to-time just to piss off Lefty. Once, Rosie had heard that CanDee had taken his prized vintage tractor on a joy ride.

Rosie put her hand over her heart, mortally wounded. “I’m not a kiss-ass. I’m the teacher’s pet. Get your suck-ups right.”

Justus blew CanDee a kiss. “I’m the kiss-ass.” She pointed to the Bobcat. “I get to play with the big-boy machines.”

The Bobcat was covered in mud, and Rosie’s second worst nightmare involved being covered in mud. “Better you than me. I like the girly-girl machines. I’m holding out for the Bobcat that has unicorns and rainbows painted on it.”

Justus glanced at CanDee. “Remind me why we’re friends with her?”

“Because she can talk her way out of anything. Remember when she talked that sheriff’s deputy out of giving us a ticket for going eighty in a fifty-five?” CanDee smiled to herself. “What was the excuse she used?”

“I told him that my hair dryer was broken and we had to drive fast with all the windows down because I had a very important job interview.” Rosie was rather proud of her ability to talk her way out of things.

“Classic Rosie.” Justus climbed into the Bobcat and pulled the door closed.

Rosie slid behind the wheel of her golf cart. She waved goodbye to both CanDee and Justus. Justus was about to tear up the front yard. If Rosie was being honest with herself, and she usually was, she just couldn’t take that much mess. Clutter was like nails on a chalkboard, while destruction simply made her sick. She was woman enough to know her weaknesses.

Plus, she had her own mess of sorts to clean up. She’d left her bags packed in her car. There was a part of her that was ashamed of the fact that all that baggage had been weighing on her. Perfectionism had its drawbacks.