Epilogue - Frankie
I thought I loved Brush Creek Ranch in the fall, but winter is even better.
The hills are dusted in powdered sugar snow, every fence rail glitters like it’s been dipped in frost, and the smell of pine clings to everything.
Inside the ranch house, chaos reigns. The kitchen table is buried under invitation samples, tinsel, and three different sets of place cards Martha can’t decide between.
Rhett’s pretending to read a feed catalog but has mostly been watching me try to pick ribbon colors.
“Do we really need different shades of red?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say sweetly. “We’re getting married in a barn, Rhett. The ribbon is the glamour.”
He smirks. “I thought you were the glamour.”
Martha hums from the stove. “She’s that, too.”
I grin at him, trying and failing not to blush. We’re supposed to be finalizing seating charts, but mostly, we’ve been laughing our way through the morning. Luke’s somewhere outside wrangling extension cords for the lighting tests. I can already hear him singing off-key through the frosted window.
“Tell me again why we’re doing this at Christmas?” Rhett asks, wrapping an arm around my waist as I lean against him.
“Because you proposed with a pumpkin,” I say. “And after I said yes, you made me promise to get married quickly.”
“Oh, yeah,” he says, pressing a kiss to my hair.
Before I can tease him, the front door swings open, bringing a rush of cold air, snow, and Luke’s voice. “All right, folks, brace yourselves. The wedding planner’s here, and she brought blueprints.”
I arch a brow. “Blueprints?”
“She said the word flow. I got scared.”
“Be nice,” Martha scolds, even though she’s smiling. “Let the woman do her job.”
Luke steps aside, and in walks a woman who could probably lead an army.
She’s striking, with long red hair, sharp hazel eyes, a black wool coat that probably costs more than my car, and the confident energy of someone who knows their worth.
She’s juggling a thermos, a tablet, and a binder thicker than a dictionary.
“Hi!” she says, all professional brightness. “Sorry for the early start. I wanted to see how the light hits the barn before noon, it’ll help with layout and floral design.”
“That’s dedication,” Rhett murmurs under his breath.
“Heroic,” Luke says.
The redhead turns toward him, meeting his grin with one of her own. “You must be Luke Carson.”
He sweeps off his hat with a mock bow. “Depends who’s asking.”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “Holly Jameson. Event planner. I’m here to make sure this wedding doesn’t turn into a Christmas pageant with livestock.”
“Now hold on,” Luke says, feigning offense. “That was my one creative suggestion.”
She laughs, a clear, bright sound that makes even Martha glance over her shoulder, impressed. “As long as you understand there is no way that’s happening, we’re going to get along just fine.”
I watch the exchange with thinly disguised delight. Rhett leans in, murmuring, “You’re seeing this too, right?”
“Oh, absolutely,” I whisper back. “He’s already doomed.”
Holly sets her planner on the table and flips it open to a page labeled Brush Creek Wedding Timeline. Every line is color-coded. She’s clearly the kind of woman who can make miracles out of mayhem.
“All right,” she says briskly, business mode engaged. “The theme is rustic mountain Christmas meets cozy romance. Think candlelight, evergreen, gold accents—”
“Not gold,” I interrupt automatically.
She nods without missing a beat. “Then champagne tones. Classic and warm.”
Luke props his hip against the counter, arms crossed, watching her talk with a half-smile that’s one part admiration, one part trouble. “Do you always come this prepared, or are we just lucky?”
“Preparedness is my love language,” she replies. “And yes, you’re lucky.”
Martha chuckles from the stove. “Careful, dear. That one flirts like it’s a full-time job.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Holly says, eyes twinkling. “But I don’t mix work and flirtation.”
“Shame,” Luke says, voice all smooth mischief. “I bet you’re great at multi-tasking.”
She arches a brow. “Let’s hope you’re half as good at stringing lights as you are at talking.”
Luke grins, undeterred. “Guess we’ll find out.”
Rhett groans quietly beside me. “You realize they’re going to end up killing each other or sleeping together.”
“Or both,” I say.
Holly spreads a set of sample photos across the table, they contain sleigh ride routes, lanterns, wreath arrangements. She points to one sketch. “We’ll have the ceremony right here, in front of the barn doors, just before sunset. The trees frame the aisle perfectly.”
I look at Rhett, who nods, content. Holly turns to Luke next, waiting for approval.
“Looks good,” he says. “But what about weather?”
“I’ve already arranged for heated tents as backup,” she replies. “And a generator in case of outages.”
Luke’s grin widens. “Do you believe in miracles?”
She narrows her eyes, but the corners of her mouth lift. “No. I believe in planning.”
“You keep talking like that,” Luke says, “and I might actually start behaving.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Cowboy,” she says, closing her binder with a decisive snap.
Rhett’s trying, and failing, not to laugh. “You sure she’s not here to run you instead of the wedding?”
“Wouldn’t be the worst fate,” Luke mutters.
When Holly glances up, there’s a flicker of amusement she doesn’t bother to hide. “I’ll need a full walkthrough of the property this afternoon,” she says. “Preferably with someone who knows the layout.”
Luke straightens, eyes bright. “I’m your guy.”
“Wonderful,” she says. “Wear something practical. And don’t try to impress me, I can tell when a man’s showing off.”
“Now you’re just daring me,” Luke says under his breath as she heads for the door.
Holly calls back, “Good. I like a challenge.”
The door closes behind her, and silence fills the room for half a second before Rhett lets out a low whistle. “Well, that’s gonna be fun to watch.”
Martha hums her approval. “He finally met a woman who can lasso him without lifting a rope.”
I laugh, leaning against Rhett’s side. “Should we warn her?”
“Let ’em figure it out,” he says. “Could use some entertainment before Christmas.”
Outside, snow keeps falling in lazy spirals. Through the frosted window, I can see Luke catch up to Holly at her car. She’s talking, gesturing at her clipboard, while he’s nodding and smiling that slow, deliberate smile that’s gotten him out of, and into, plenty of trouble.
Holly looks up at him, half-exasperated, half-smiling despite herself. He holds the door for her, still talking, still teasing. She finally shakes her head and says something that makes him laugh loud enough for me to hear through the glass.
I turn back to Rhett. “It’s happening.”
He wraps his arm around me, voice low against my ear. “Yeah,” he says. “He would be lucky to be half as happy as I am with you.”
I laugh, curling against him as the snow thickens and the world outside turns white. Inside, there’s warmth and cinnamon and the quiet joy of something new beginning—not just for us, but for the cowboy on the porch who doesn’t yet realize that he’s about to have a holly, jolly holiday.