Vicki Thompson - Cowboys & Angels

But Pam, who’d been previously married to a cheating bastard, wanted the wedding of the century this time, and she’d reserved the entire Serenity Ski Lodge in Jackson Hole for a Christmas-themed celebration. Trey was thrilled because Pam had hired him to play guitar for the ceremony along with Watkins, a seasoned ranch hand and the husband of Mary Lou Simms, the ranch’s cook. Trey had caught a ride up to the Serenity resort with Watkins and Mary Lou, who were as eager for several days of celebrating as everyone else. Everyone, that was, except the groom.

Trey edged his guitar case aside and leaned toward the front seat as they navigated the snowy road leading to the resort. “Do you think there’s a chance Emmett will bail and ruin everything?”

“No,” Mary Lou said. She’d tamed her flyaway gray hair under a furry hat. “I’ve known Emmett Sterling for a lot of years, and he’s considerate. He might not like this operation, but it’s what Pam wants, and he loves her.”

“That’s a fact,” Watkins agreed. “And the Chance family has gone to some trouble to hire temporary help so we could all get up here and stay a couple of days after the wedding. Emmett wouldn’t mess with that kind of generosity.”

“I hope not.” Trey looked out at the snowy landscape. “I know how much everybody’s looking forward to this, including me.”

Watkins grinned as he glanced in the rearview mirror. “You gonna try skiing, cowboy?”

“You know, I might. I mean, thanks to Pam, it’s free, so why not?”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Watkins said. “At least the bunny slope, right, Lou-Lou?”

“At least. I used to be pretty good, but I haven’t skied in years. I hope it’s like riding a bike and it’ll all come back to me once I suit up.”

Watkins sent her a fond glance. “I can’t wait to see you all decked out. I’ll bet you’ll look great in goggles.”

Mary Lou laughed. “No, I won’t, you old flatterer, but I appreciate the thought.”

Trey got a kick out of those two. They were both in their fifties, and Watkins had been after Mary Lou for years. She’d resisted the idea of tying the knot until about eighteen months ago, but now that they were married, they both seemed deliriously happy. It was very cute.

The truck approached a curve, and Trey sucked in a breath, as he always did when he came to this part of the road.

“You okay back there?” Watkins glanced in the rearview mirror again.

“Yeah. This is where I had my accident last spring. It always gets to me a little bit.”

“I’m sure it does.” Mary Lou looked back at him, her gaze sympathetic. “You could’ve died.”

“I would’ve died, if that woman hadn’t come along.” His angel. For the millionth time, he asked himself why she’d come to his rescue and then left before he could thank her.

He’d been heartbroken after getting a Dear John letter from Cassie, who’d moved back east to attend law school and had fallen for someone there. In the predawn hours, he’d lost control of his Jeep on this curve. Pure misery had kept him from fastening his seat belt, so when the Jeep flipped, he’d been thrown into a snowdrift.

As cold as it had been that morning, he could easily have died from exposure. But his angel had shown up, pulled him out of the snow, taken him to the hospital and left. In his dazed state, he only remembered a halo of blond hair, blue eyes and a soft voice. He also thought she’d come to his hospital room once to check on him, but he’d been really out of it and might have dreamed that.

After he’d recovered, he’d tried unsuccessfully to find out her name. His search had yielded nothing. If she’d given it to the hospital personnel, it had disappeared somehow. Nobody could help him.

Without a name, his chances of finding her dropped considerably. He couldn’t even describe her very well, other than her blond hair and blue eyes. Lots of women in the Jackson Hole area had blond hair and blue eyes. She also might have been a tourist, which meant she could live anywhere. People from all over the world visited Jackson Hole.

He wasn’t even sure he’d recognize her if he saw her on the street. But her voice haunted his dreams, and he thought he might know the sound of it if he heard it again. More than once he’d stopped a blonde walking down the sidewalk in Jackson and asked her something lame, like directions to the nearest burger joint, so he could listen to her voice. None of them had sounded like his angel.

He’d begun to think she might have been an honest-to-God angel instead of a real woman. He didn’t really believe in such things, but that would explain her sudden appearance at his hour of need and why she’d vanished into thin air after rescuing him. Still, he kept looking and listening, hoping that he’d meet her again so he could express his gratitude.

In the meantime, because he owed his life to her, he’d wanted to do something to commemorate her rescue. She might be a caring woman who didn’t want to be identified, or she might be a spirit sent down from heaven. In either case, she was his angel.

After much thought, he’d chosen to have an angel’s wing tattooed on his left biceps in her honor. Whenever he looked at it, he was reminded that he was one lucky son of a bitch to be alive. In the months that had followed the accident, he’d also realized that Cassie had not been worth dying for. He was ready to move on. Unfortunately, the woman who had made that epiphany possible had vanished without a trace.

* * *

ELLE MASTERSON LOOKED forward to having the Last Chance Ranch folks at Serenity for a long weekend while the foreman and his lady got hitched. She’d been warned by management that these would not be experienced skiers, but teaching beginners was her first love. With no other guests to take care of, she’d build her schedule around whatever they wanted, beginning first thing in the morning.

Before then, she needed to finish her Christmas shopping. Rather than head into Jackson, she’d decided to see if she could find something for her favorite cousin in the Serenity resort gift shop. The items were pricey, but she’d get an employee discount.

The shop wasn’t busy. The only customer was a tall cowboy, probably part of the Last Chance bunch, who had his back to her as he glanced through a selection of postcards on a rack near the door. Samantha, a fun-loving, curvaceous redhead, stood behind the jewelry counter at the far end of the store, and Elle headed in that direction.

“Hey, Elle! What’s up?” Samantha seemed eager for company.

“I need something pretty for my cousin Jill. A necklace, maybe. She likes turquoise, but she also likes nature-themed stuff, like wolves and—”

“My God, it’s you! I recognize your voice!”

She whirled toward the speaker. The tall cowboy who’d been shopping for postcards stood at the end of the jewelry counter staring at her as if he’d seen a ghost. One glance into his brown eyes and she knew why.

Trey Wheeler looked completely recovered and perfectly healthy. He also was as drop-dead gorgeous as she’d remembered. Like most cowboys, he wore his hat indoors, the brim pulled down a bit so it shadowed his eyes and gave him an air of mystery. He’d also left on his sheepskin jacket, but he’d unbuttoned it, which provided a glimpse of his physique.

The guy was built like a defensive end—slim hips, broad shoulders, powerful chest. She wondered if he was still hung up on Cassie, the woman he’d called out for at the hospital, the woman he’d begged not to leave him.

He swallowed. “So you’re real, after all.” His voice was husky with emotion.

“Did you think I wasn’t?” Then she considered what shape he’d been in after the accident. He’d suffered from exposure and a concussion. He might have thought she was a hallucination.