Jill Kemerer - The Rancher's Mistletoe Bride

Whether she liked it or not, she was the boss, and she’d better not forget it.

Chapter Three

“Storm’s coming tonight. I’m heading into town.” Clint shifted from one cowboy boot to the other Monday afternoon. “Do you need any supplies?”

“I’ll come with you.” The words were out of Lexi’s mouth before she’d thought them through. She stood in the open doorway as a gust of wind swooshed inside.

She hadn’t left the house in three days, and she was losing her mind. Natalie Allen, her vice president and top wedding planner, had taken more responsibilities off Lexi’s shoulders, but details continued to slip through the cracks. Lexi was still reeling from the nasty phone call she’d received this morning from a very unhappy client. She couldn’t help thinking if she’d been there, the situation could have been prevented.

In his Carhartt jacket, jeans and cowboy hat, Clint looked ready to bolt. “If you give me a list—”

“I want to tag along.” She was already pulling on her faux fur–lined boots.

“I have errands to run first.”

“Even better.” She shrugged into her coat. “Just drop me off downtown and text me when you’re ready to go to the store.”

His expression darkened, but he nodded. “I’ll be in the truck.”

He didn’t have time to walk away, because she’d grabbed her purse and followed him outside. With Clint managing the ranch, maybe it was time for her to return to Denver. For good.

She bit the corner of her bottom lip, less than thrilled at the thought.

He opened the passenger door of his black truck for her, and she buckled herself in, thankful the cab was warm.

“So...what’s on your agenda?” She watched him adjust the mirrors then back the truck up.

“Dottie will be mad if I don’t stop in and say howdy, so I’m headed to her diner first. Then I’m meeting Art McFall about his hay supply. I have to stop in at the bank, and I’m due for a trim.”

“Dottie. Hay. Bank. Barber. Got it. How long do you think it will take?”

“Two hours.”

Two whole hours.

She watched the bare countryside pass by. It was part of her, the same way selecting complementary colors for a bouquet was part of her. After living in the city for years, she’d never thought she’d miss the raw emptiness of the land, but she did. Was that why the thought of returning to Denver wasn’t lighting up her insides?

“I’ve looked over the ranch’s books some more,” Clint said. “We’ll be selling the calves soon, even though the prices are low.”

“Okay.” She faced him, remembering the twinge of doubt she’d had at their meeting last week.

“The new barn is empty, and it cost a lot to build.”

“I know.”

“To fill the barn with square bales next summer, you need farm equipment.”

She knew where he was going with this. Equipment cost money.

He concentrated on the road ahead. “If you want the equipment, you need to get a high price for your calves.”

A dull ache formed behind her eyes. “You think we should wait a few months to sell, don’t you?”

“Not if we can’t feed them.”

“Can we feed them?” She watched him carefully, trying to read his reaction.

“I think we can.”

She weighed her options. If they couldn’t feed the cattle, they’d lose even more money than if they sold them soon at a low price.

“Let me think about it more.” She waited for him to argue, but his only reaction was a curt nod. Was he mad she hadn’t instantly agreed with him?

Maybe these unresolved ranch issues were the reason she wasn’t speeding back to her real life. It wouldn’t be fair to Clint if she deserted him now. She’d told him she planned to stay until Christmas.

“I can’t take chances with the ranch,” she said. “Every decision I make is important.”

“I understand.”

He remained silent as the miles passed. She wished she could tell him to go ahead and do whatever he wanted with the calves, but she had to think about the big picture. Logan and Sarah and their little ones depended on her. As did the other ranch hands. Not to mention the cattle—she wouldn’t risk harming them. Preserving the ranch itself loomed heaviest. Would Daddy have approved of Clint’s plan?

The lingering silence set her on edge.

“Has Banjo been okay?” she asked.

“He’s fine.”

Not exactly forthcoming with information, that Clint Romine. What was a safe topic for small talk?

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” she asked. “Hard to believe it’s only a few days away.”

His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “I’ll feed the cattle in the morning and later ride out to check on them.”

“What about your family?”

“I don’t have one.”

“What do you mean?” It hadn’t occurred to her he’d be spending his Thanksgiving alone, too.

He glanced her way and shrugged. “Dad died in a blizzard back when I was four. Multicar pileup. He drove trucks for a living. Never knew my mom. My grandfather took care of me until I turned six, then he died. I lived in foster homes from then on.”

The full impact of his words didn’t hit her for a few seconds. When it did, she didn’t know what to say. Was he completely alone in life? “Who do you usually spend Thanksgiving with? And Christmas?”

“Thanksgiving isn’t a big deal to me. Dottie always invites me to her place, but it’s a little too crowded for my liking. As for Christmas, my best friends and I usually get together when we can, but we’re all bachelors, all live a cowboy life to some degree...”

“So you spend the holidays alone.”

“Yes.”

She tapped her legs. He didn’t sound bothered at the thought of being alone for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Unlike her.

“Here we are.” Clint stopped in a parking spot in front of Dottie’s Diner. “I’ll text you when I’m done.”

“Tell Dottie hello from me.” She climbed out of the truck, shoved her hands in her coat pockets and headed toward the jewelry store. Clint’s childhood must have been pretty bad for him to spend holidays alone. She’d been blessed to always have Daddy to come home to. Who knew how she’d spend the holidays from now on?

Sweet Dreams was all decked out for Christmas. Rows of buildings—some brick, some with awnings—lined both sides of Main Street, and all were trimmed in green-and-red decorations. White lights wrapped around light posts and store windows. Evergreen boughs and red ribbons abounded. Very Victorian Western. She imagined women in long dresses and bonnets singing carols back in the day. Throw in a cowboy or two, and the picture would be complete.

Lexi ducked into Sweet Dreams Jewelers and instantly felt at home. There was something about jewelry, soft lighting and gleaming glass displays that soothed her. She zoomed to the diamonds showcased on blue velvet. Lingering over the engagement rings, she sighed in delight. The one in the top right corner caught her eye. She’d pick it as her ideal ring. Oh, how she loved weddings.

The recent Anderson nuptials had been particularly moving. The bride and groom had stared into each other’s eyes so deeply as they said their vows that Lexi had shed a few honest tears at their devotion. Those moments made her job worth the petty calls, ornery brides, making payroll and endless meetings. Yes, the I dos made it all worth it.

After browsing the store, she made her way to Amy’s Quilt Shop. Lexi herself had never quilted, but the fabrics might give her ideas for any rustic weddings coming up. The bell clanged above her, and she stopped to take it all in. The aroma of spiced cider and the sounds of soft contemporary Christian Christmas music filled the room, pretty rag rugs in navy blues and brick reds covered the wood floors, and the displays—magnificent! She plunged forward, marveling at the combination of fabrics. The quilts hanging from the walls were works of art.