Pamela Britton - A Cowboy's Christmas Wedding

She glanced at the three pieces of luggage in her trunk—two suitcases, a matching toiletry bag and a garment bag that contained the dress she would wear to Trent and Alana’s wedding, bought in Las Vegas, of course. Enough clothes for three weeks. “No, no, I’ve got it.”

“Here.” He darted down the steps.

The man didn’t know how to take no for an answer. She quickly pulled the last piece of luggage out—the small toiletry case—hoping to scoop everything up before he got there, but she should have known better. He was by her side in an instant.

“Let me have that.” He grabbed the handle of her largest suitcase before she could stop him.

“You don’t need to do that.”

She was treated to his censorious stare beneath the brim of his black cowboy hat—one that matched his shirt—but that wasn’t curled up around the rim like a traditional hat. In this part of the country, everyone wore them wide and flat. They might look silly on some cowboys, but not Cabe. Too handsome for his own good, she thought, not for the first time.

“Thanks,” she said, cursing inside because she’d meant the word to come out sounding truly thankful, but it’d come out all wrong—more grudging than grateful.

“My pleasure.”

He didn’t like her. She’d known that, although it didn’t make it any easier to swallow. She knew why, too. From the moment she’d first spotted Cabe Jensen standing in the middle of a barn aisle five months ago, she’d become a babbling moron. She hadn’t meant to sound so domineering and bossy, but she knew that’s exactly how her words had come off to his ears. She’d tried to rectify the situation at least a half dozen times, but every time she opened her mouth she said the wrong thing all over again. Drove her nuts.

“And thanks so much for letting me stay with you.” She really was grateful about that. It would make things much easier.

“It’s going to be great.” His smile looked as sickly as a cardiac patient’s. “I can’t wait.”

She almost laughed. Acting would never be his forte. “I can’t wait, either.”

He glanced back at her. She felt her cheeks flush with heat. The man had that effect on her. That, too, drove her nuts.

“I, ah...” She smiled. “It’s going to be a lot of work, of course. You know. The whole wedding in two weeks thing, but it’ll be easier with your help.”

There. That hadn’t sounded too bad.

He picked up the last of her luggage and turned to face her. She almost laughed all over again. Poor man looked like a pack mule with her luggage stacked beneath his arms.

“Don’t count on me for much help. You’re the pro.” He headed for the house before she could stop him. “And I hope you can pull it off for Alana and Trent’s sake,” he added over his shoulder.

Thanks for the vote of confidence, she found herself thinking. Typical Cabe. He was Alana’s boss and best friend, and so she bit back a sarcastic retort, but it was hard.

He paused at the top of the steps, glancing back at her. “Coming?”

She’d been staring after him like a buffoon. “I need to get my cat.”

“Excuse me?”

Oh, dear. He hadn’t been told. Darn that Alana and Trent. They should have given him a heads-up.

“Ramses.” She smiled sheepishly. “My cat. After the pharaoh. He thinks he’s king of the world, and if I’d left him behind in Colorado, he wouldn’t have spoken to me for a month. Seriously. He has major catt-itude. Didn’t Alana and Trent tell you I was bringing him along?”

Clearly not.

“I hate cats.”

Big surprise. He probably hated puppies, babies and fuzzy little chicks, too. “I promise you won’t even notice him.”

His lips tightened in a way that projected “Famous last words.”

Oh, well. Nothing she could do about it now. It wasn’t like she could ship Ramses home.

“You’ll see. He’s adorable. Nobody can resist Ramses.”

Nobody but him, she would bet.

She headed toward the front seat of the rental where Ramses had spent the past few hours riding it out—much to his dismay. The orange Peke-faced Persian stared up at her in the same way Cabe Jensen did—with a combination of resentment and disgust.

“Hey there, buddy.” She lifted the travel kennel up to her face. Ramses’s gaze moved from her to the pasture behind her, then back to her face again, pupils flaring, smooshed-in nose lifting up as if he’d caught a whiff of the pines and freshly cut grass behind her. “You okay?”

As a reply, the cat let out his trademark Persian howl, a cross between stepped-on kitty and wailing banshee. Her gaze darted to Cabe, but he just raised his brows and shook his head.

“Great,” she thought she heard him mutter.

Relax, she told herself. It wasn’t as though she and Ramses would be seeing a lot of the man. He was the proprietor of a guest ranch, one that specialized in people with disabilities. This time of year the ranch catered to a different type of clientele, Alana had told her: big-game hunters. According to Alana it was a booming business. Elk and antelope and a whole host of other animals made their home in the high California desert.

“Got anything else in there I need to know about?” he asked.

“Nope.” She cradled Ramses’s cage in front of her. “This is the last surprise.”

This time, she was certain she heard him grunt. “I hope so.”

She hoped so, too.

* * *

HE COULD FEEL her behind him.

Stubborn, opinionated woman. Why wasn’t he surprised she’d brought along her cat? And what the hell was in the suitcases he lugged up the steps of his home? Damn things weighed as much as a ship anchor.

“Wow. This is pretty, Cabe.”

Hadn’t she been in his home before? He frowned.

Now that he thought about it, she hadn’t. He’d given her a wide berth when she’d visited the ranch last summer.

“How long have you lived here?”

“All my life,” he said, struggling to get the multiple pieces of luggage up the first flight of stairs. It was like carrying bales of hay, and it took everything he had to keep his breathing under control. Damned if he’d let her see him struggle.

“You sure you don’t want help with that?” she asked, almost as if she read his mind.

“Just hold on to your cat.”

“Not my hat?”

He glanced back down at her. She smiled up at him. He decided to ignore her.

She wouldn’t let him. “The house looks really old.”

He paused for a moment, ostensibly so he could respond to her comment, but really so he could catch his breath at the top of the steps. He felt as if his arms had stretched two inches by the time he set her luggage down.

“It was built in 1859,” he all but wheezed.

“No kidding.”

At the bottom of the steps was the family room, the hardwood floor so shiny it reflected the image of a massive stone fireplace that sat kitty-corner from the front door. Claw-footed furniture was arranged around the room, a beige-and-brown cowhide lay in the middle of the floor, matching pillows on the sofa. Across from the family room, still along the front of the house, was a drawing room, and behind that, toward the back, the kitchen overlooked a side pasture that stretched all the way to the main road.

“Our family was one of the first to settle in the area.”

“Neat.”

At the look of approval in her eyes, he picked up the luggage again. Sure, he was normally a lot friendlier to his guests, and sure, he was probably a bit hard on her, but Saedra Robbins annoyed the heck out of him with her I-can-do-anything-you-can-do attitude. That was why he’d be boiled in hoof tar before he let her see how out of breath he was.

One step at a time.

“Where are you taking me?”