Christina Skye - The Accidental Bride

“Clothes? Why clothes?”

“Because you’re going on a trip and you’ll need them.”

“This is a joke, right? You planned some kind of a girls’ night out in Portland. Just don’t tell me it’s at a Chippendales place because my heart isn’t in it. My heart, get it?” Jilly’s face was stony. “I’m trying not to spoil the party here, Grace.”

“No Chippendales. I promise, you’ll like this. It’s a cooking retreat that I found on the web. It’s only offered every three or four years, so you’re in luck.”

Jilly began to smile. “Really? I could handle that. I never have time to improve my skills, and I could finally dig in and catch up.” She hesitated. “But the doctor told me no work—”

“You won’t be working.” Grace grinned. “You’ll take classes. No worry and no cleanup. Low stress all the way.”

“Wow. It sounds great.” Jilly waved at Caro and Olivia, who slid into the backseat. “Cool scarf, Livie.”

“I got the yarn in Florence. They really know how to live over there.” Olivia tapped on the suitcase near her feet. “I’ve loaded up on your favorite travel food, chocolate included. You’ll be in junk-food heaven. Caro packed the rest of your stuff, and I added a few clothes.”

Jilly looked shell-shocked. “You mean I’m going now? What about Duffy? What about my ticket?”

“All taken care of.” Olivia high-fived Jilly. “We’ll take care of your dog and everything else. This trip is our gift to you.”

“Seriously? You mean—”

“We mean you are going to go and have fun, Jilly. You’re going to start over and learn how to relax.”

Jilly rubbed her hands in excitement. “You guys are the best. You know that? I’ve told you that, haven’t I?”

Grace coughed and then pulled back onto the road. “Terminal 3, here we come.”

“Where is it? San Francisco? New York?”

“Wyoming,” the three others said in unison.

Jilly frowned. “I’ve never heard of any cooking programs there.”

“It’s all in your travel folder. Olivia will give it to you at the gate.” Caro frowned at Jilly. “And remember. No caffeine. No alcohol. No heavy exercise or stress. You’re supposed to take it easy.”

“Sure, sure. I can go without coffee now. I won’t buy a single cup while I’m gone. And no all-night keggers, I promise.” Jilly wriggled like a kid, eager for details. “So what is this place called?”

“Stop asking questions and move.” Grace eased the car to the check-in curb, motioning to Olivia in the backseat. “Olivia will go inside with you and help with your bag. She can answer any questions, too. We’ll circle a couple of times and wait for her. Now get moving.” She leaned over to hug Jilly. “Take care of yourself.”

Olivia jumped out first, but Jilly grabbed her suitcase away and charged inside.

Caro shook her head. “She’ll never change.”

“Don’t worry, Livie can handle her. By the time she realizes the truth, she’ll be on the ground in Wyoming.” Grace gave a guilty laugh. “And there are no more flights out tonight. I already checked. Like it or not, Jilly will be stuck there—on the vacation of a lifetime.”

Lost Creek, Wyoming

JILLY HAD ONLY LANDED ten minutes before, and her head was spinning from the whirlwind trip. So this was Wyoming.

She hadn’t expected the mountains to be so big.

And the airport to be so small.

She crossed the waiting area and frowned at the row of two dozen seats. “This is a mistake. This can’t be the airport for Lost Creek. It’s tiny.”

“No mistake, ma’am.” The attendant at the sleepy baggage claim glanced at Jilly and sized her up for a big city tourist. “You going up to the resort?”

“I thought I was going to someplace near Jackson Hole.”

The attendant laughed. “Quite a few peaks between you and Jackson. A couple million dollars in real estate values, too.” He pointed out to the curb. “You can get a taxi over there. May have to wait a bit. Joe just had a baby so they’re short-staffed.”

Jilly felt a headache building force. “How long would it take to drive to Jackson Hole?”

The attendant looked as though she’d made a rare joke. “Couldn’t do it. Not with all the mountains you’d have to cross. Why’d you want to go there anyway? Overpriced and overpopulated, if you ask me.”

“The restaurants for a start. The fresh produce.” Jilly closed her eyes. “The coffee,” she whispered with a sigh of longing. “Oh, yes, the coffee.”

“We got coffee here. Darned good coffee shop over on Main Street. This your bag?” He lifted the bright blue suitcase and sniffed. “Smells like chocolate.”

Jilly took the bag and frowned. It did smell like chocolate.

“Probably sitting on the heater in the service truck. Must have melted the chocolate.”

Another disaster. Jilly closed her eyes and tried to relax. “So how far is it to this resort?” Jilly dug into the pocket of her leather bag and found the big envelope that Olivia had handed her right before she boarded the flight to Denver. Jilly had assumed this place called Lost Creek was near Jackson Hole. Remote but sophisticated.

But there was no point in arguing now. She was bone-tired and ravenous. Coffee would have been nice, followed by room service and a long soak in a big tub. Maybe even a massage. That’s what people did to relax, right?

Jilly didn’t know. She’d never had a massage and she hardly ever relaxed.

Something nudged her foot. She looked down and fell into a pair of big brown eyes.

A broad, furry face stared up at her.

The big brown Lab retriever looked calm and expectant, as if Jilly were an old friend who would know what to do next. And just like that Jilly’s mood brightened.

She loved dogs. Any color, any size, any breed, they made her day.

Her irritation vanished as she sank down on one knee and rubbed the dog’s soft brown fur. “Oh, my. You’re a beauty, aren’t you? Smart, too.” Impulsive as always, Jilly felt no fear. The dog made a rough sound of pleasure as she found the little hollow behind the right ear.

It never failed. What dog didn’t like to be scratched slowly, just along that sensitive little ridge?

“Excuse me, ma’am. My dog isn’t good with strangers. Touching him is a bad idea.”

“He’s your dog? Well, we’re doing just fine here. In fact—” Jilly glanced up, ready to protest, but her breath tangled up in her throat, lost in a husky gasp as she saw the rugged man looming over her.

HE WAS TALL, AT LEAST six-four. His eyes were an uncommon shade Jilly had never seen before. Not quite navy. Not quite gray, either. No, they were an unusual, restless shade warmer than both.

His skin was tan from long hours outdoors. A cowboy, by the look of him. Long legs. Seriously long legs. Jilly couldn’t help running her eyes up that long, lean length of man with a silent sigh of appreciation.

Okay. This was one ruggedly handsome cowboy.

She coughed and stood up slowly, gathering her wits. The man was almost six inches taller than she was. She wasn’t used to that. She also wasn’t used to the quiet, focused way he was studying her.

No chatter. No cues of any sort. Totally reserved. But he looked as if he liked being in command of things around him.

Her brain began to race. Maybe he was a rancher with a few hundred thousand acres, which he personally supervised by Jeep and horseback. On the other hand he carried himself with an almost tangible sense of command. Slow, simmering charisma of a very alpha type.

An actor?

No, not an actor, Jilly decided. His face was too contained. Actors were always on stage, oozing energy and playing to an audience. This man looked as if he could keep his secrets very well. He would give orders, but he’d do it so smoothly you never knew you were being controlled.