Christy Jeffries - The Maverick's Bridal Bargain

“What am I going to do with you?” she asked. The guinea pig twitched its nose in response, the whiskers on either side of its face quivering.

Vivienne wasn’t much of an animal person. Growing up, she’d had only one pet, and that had been short-lived. When her parents divorced the first time, not only had they fought for custody of Vivienne, they’d also fought for custody of Filmore, a fluffy Pomeranian who didn’t understand the concept of every-other-week visitation. Vivienne was at school one day when Filmore snuck out of her dad’s sparsely furnished apartment and tried to make his way back to the house he was used to—the split-level home her mom got in the divorce. He never made it.

Her mother accused her father of giving the dog to one of his girlfriends, and her father accused her mother of leaving a trail of bacon the entire two miles between his apartment and her house. At first, Vivienne was heartbroken over her lost pet, but a week later, she was getting off the school bus a block away from her mom’s place and saw Filmore in the window of the Petersons’ house. She knew the Peterson girls from school. They were younger, and their parents never screamed at each other on the front lawn like hers did. So Vivienne decided not to say anything, because at least Filmore would get to live with a happy family even if she couldn’t. Every once in a while, she would go over to their house and pretend she was interested in having make-believe tea parties and playing with their babyish pink palace dream house just so that she could visit her dog.

When her mom and dad eventually got back together, Vivienne asked if they could go over to the Petersons’ and get Filmore. However, her parents were so caught up in each other and making up for lost time that they didn’t want the burden of a pet again.

Vivienne bit her lower lip as she studied the helpless guinea pig. Maybe she should take him back to her apartment for now. She should also call the pet store and tell them that under no circumstances were they to sell that poor turtle to Estelle. But, first, she had a wedding to put together. Balancing her binder in one arm, she carried the cage into the office.

The peanut M&M’s were long gone, so she broke off a piece of the granola bar she’d thrown in her purse this morning when she realized she wouldn’t have time for breakfast, then pushed it through one of the slots toward her new friend. The guinea pig cautiously moved forward and sniffed the food before using its tiny paws to shove the whole thing into its cheek. Then Vivienne settled into her chair and got to work.

She opened the binder to see that a photo had gotten stuck inside one of the divider pockets. And not just any photo. The photo. All five of the Dalton brothers were handsome. And after hearing about the tragedy of losing their mother, Vivienne was fascinated to find out more about them. She told herself she was interested in learning all their stories, but it was really Cole she stared at, Cole’s story she wanted to hear.

Something inside of her ached. Maybe it was all the romance novels and bridal magazines pulling at her heartstrings. She’d read her fair share of both, and every once in a while she could forget about the bridezillas and the uninterested grooms and the wedding marketing ploys and wonder if there was such a thing as love at first sight.

Not for her, of course. Having witnessed the whirlwind of her parents’ marriage, Vivienne was smart enough to want to get to know her future husband for at least a few years before she decided if they were compatible.

She was also smart enough not to get all worked up by a pair of well-worn jeans and a sexy smirk and a honeyed voice calling her ma’am .

* * *

A week later at the Circle D, Cole was in one of the corrals exercising his uncle’s injured horse when a Jetta zipped down the driveway toward the ranch house. As the car approached, he recognized Vivienne behind the wheel and his pulse sped up. Paying attention to the driver instead of where he was going, Cole kept walking straight as the horse rounded the turn. Zorro’s front hoof grazed the side of his boot, causing them both to stumble.

“Easy, boy,” he said more to himself than to the stallion.

She was wearing some sort of silky floral dress that wrapped around her curves like a second skin, and her high heels had no business navigating the dirt driveway, which was still fairly muddy after a recent spring rain. Balancing that big binder on her hip, Vivienne used her free hand to carry a tall vase. A strong wind caused the side of her dress to flip open and his lungs froze as he was treated to a full view of her shapely thighs. When she tried to pull her dress back into place, she dropped the binder, its contents spilling out everywhere.

Quickly, Cole secured the lead rope to the mechanical arm of the hot-walker, then hopped over the fence, mentally kicking himself for initially staring at her like a lovesick calf instead of immediately rushing to her aid. On his way, he picked up scattered papers and pictures of cakes and flowers. The dainty images and carefully handwritten lists made his work-roughened hands look big and coarse, and he quickly shoved the stack at her.

“Thank you,” she said, not noticing that the notebook she’d just pulled to her chest was covered with mud. “I’m supposed to meet Zach and Lydia here at the ranch and then drive over to check out Maverick Manor as an option for a wedding venue. But I’m running a little early.”

“You’re getting dirt all over your...” He pointed at the mud now covering the neckline of her dress, then slammed his fingers into his front pockets when he realized he was gesturing toward her breasts. When she pulled the binder closer as if she could shield his inappropriate gaze, he felt his cheeks flame.

“Do you want to wait for them on the porch?” he asked. He had no idea when Zach and Lydia would get here, and while Cole could rescue windblown papers, he wasn’t much for entertaining guests or making small talk. Racking his brain, he asked himself what his aunt Rita would do if she were home. “Can I get you a drink?”

Vivienne rotated her slender wrist to glance at her watch. “Actually, if you wouldn’t mind me using the restroom, I could try to clean myself up a little before they get here.”

“No problem,” he said, taking the tall vase from her. “Follow me.”

He slowed his pace so that she could better follow him without getting one of her heels stuck in the driveway. His uncle and aunt’s sprawling log ranch house was pretty big, but with Cole’s dad and brothers living there temporarily, he couldn’t vouch for the cleanliness of anyone else’s bathroom but his own.

He said as much as he led her down the hallway toward the girls’ wing. Then, because he didn’t want her getting the wrong idea about where he was taking her, he added, “We have to walk through here to get to the Jack-and-Jill-style bathroom.”

“This is your bedroom?” she asked, her gaze focused on the fierce pink sign on the door ordering all boys to keep out.

“Originally, the two rooms on this side of the house belonged to my cousins Kristen and Kayla before they got married. So I can’t take credit for the decor. All the frills and ruffles and throw pillows were here when I moved in.”

“That’s good to know.” Vivienne’s playful smile sent an electrical current through his gut. “I had you pegged for more of a roses-and-chintz type of guy, so the daisy quilt and eyelet curtains threw me off for a second.”

“Roses? Me? And here I thought I was sending out a strong tulip vibe.” He grinned back at her and then continued on toward the bathroom.

“I think it’s sweet that your masculinity isn’t threatened by a few pastels and floral prints.”