The Cowboy’s Country Charm (A Wyoming Romance #2)

Chapter 1

“You want me to do what?” Rusty Russell shook his head at his youngest sister, Junie, a lock of auburn hair falling over his brow. He wasn’t used to longer hair after the air force buzz cuts, but that was all the more reason he was determined to grow it out. Not super long, just enough so someone would notice he at least had hair. “If Parker is sick, let me stay with him and you go meet with this event planner.” That was the sensible thing.

His sister pulled off her work apron and hung it up on the hook by the back door of the small shop. Of the three siblings, Junie was the only one with blond hair, like their mother, and the only one of average height. He, along with his middle sister, Lexi, had their father’s reddish-auburn hair, and Rusty had surpassed his father’s six-two height during his senior year of high school. But they all had blue eyes, and there was definitely a family resemblance in the prominent cheekbones and heart-shaped face they all bore.

The long worktable in the back of Junie’s floral shop was strewn with hacked-off flower stems, fading petals, and cast-off sprigs of leaves as the mingled fragrance of multiple flower types scented the room.

Junie looked pained. “His nursery school teacher said Parker is asking for me. When he’s sick, he always wants me with him. And she said he has a fever. I wouldn’t feel right leaving him.”

“What about Mom? Make use of the fact she’s up here now.” His parents were back in Gillette—from New Mexico, where they’d retired—precisely to spend more time with Parker during the summer months.

“Mom and Dad are having lunch with some friends in Casper today.” Junie reached across the worktable and touched his arm. “This event planner said she’s only available today. If you can take this meeting for me, I have Sandy, the high school girl whose been helping me, coming in to mind the shop. Please.”

He took a step back and peeked through the doorway into the front of the retail space, crammed with flowers of all shapes, sizes, and colors sitting in vases, in bowls, tucked in refrigerators. How could he say no? Especially since he had nothing better to do. Still…

“I don’t know anything about flowers, Junie. When I said I’d help out during these summer months, I was thinking more of making deliveries.” At thirty years old, he was a little long in the tooth to be a delivery boy. But after leaving the air force in January, finishing up some college credits this past semester, and applying for a civil service position, he did have time on his hands while he waited to hear about his acceptance into the police academy.

“All you have to do is show her my portfolio, contained in this notebook.” She thumped the binder on the table. “This way she can see my work. Tell her she can keep the portfolio and I’ll phone her tomorrow to follow up on pricing. Please, Rusty. For your little sister. For Parker.”

He heaved a sigh. He could never refuse either of his sisters. Or his little nephew. He grabbed the binder off the table and tucked it under his arm in a sign of surrender.

Junie winked. “And I hear she’s single, so who knows.”

Since he’d gotten out of the air force, his sisters had been trying to fix him up. Trouble was, all the women he met were looking for a commitment, and he wasn’t a candidate for a happily ever after. Never would be. “How do you know she’s single?”

She tilted her chin up. “Social media.”

Of course. Everyone’s life was chronicled on the Web. He would probably regret this. Nothing could come of it anyway. “You owe me a home-cooked meal.”

“Isn’t Lexi having the family over tonight?”

Lexi had married the rancher next door to their former family ranch.

“Never enough home-cooked meals when you’re a bachelor.”

“You’ve got Mom and Dad staying at the house for the summer. You hardly need my cooking.”

“Well, you owe me one once they leave.”

“For sure.” She leaned over the table, stood on tippy-toes, and kissed his cheek. “Rusty to the rescue.”

He smiled. That was what his air force buddies used to say.

***

Kristy set her phone down just as the buzzer for the office door sounded. She checked her watch. Flowers by June was on time at least. She pressed the buzzer, rose, and placed a check mark next to a name on the copious to-do list that rested on her desk. Lisa Wilson, whom the phone call had been from, had chosen An Affair to Remember as her day-of wedding coordinator. It wasn’t as big a job as if the bride had booked with them from the outset, but at least it would be something. The company’s first Gillette contract since Marcia Graham, Kristy’s boss and the owner of An Affair to Remember, had snagged the largest event in this town—its charitable foundation gala. As Gillette was far afield from the company’s headquarters in Denver as well as the Cheyenne office, which Kristy usually worked out of, taking on the gala had necessitated opening a new office in Gillette, at least temporarily.

The new office could become permanent, along with Kristy’s long-awaited promotion to manager, if Kristy could secure more business in the area. Marcia had also dangled a 10 percent stake in the business if Kristy was successful.

Kristy gulped air into her lungs as if that would relieve the pressure she felt. Not only for her own ambitions, but she’d convinced her talented cousin, Ariel, to join the firm as the event designer for the Gillette location. But it all hinged on a triumphant gala and substantial new business. Despite several years working under Marcia’s tutelage, Kristy couldn’t shake the fear that she wasn’t ready for the responsibility.

She’d read about imposter syndrome, and she had it bad. Courtesy of a father who thought he knew best. About everything. Including Kristy’s career path.

She stepped toward the door. A key element for meeting Marcia’s goals for the office was to secure quality local vendors, especially for the gala. Hence the meeting with Flowers by June.

Kristy opened the door to the waiting area and walked out, expecting to meet the blond-haired, blue-eyed woman whose profile picture was on the Flowers by June website. Instead, a red-haired cowboy had folded his considerable height onto the two-cushion waiting room sofa. He was holding a white cowboy hat between his jean-clad legs, and a large notebook lay beside him on the seat.

What was a good-looking hunk of a cowboy doing in her waiting room? “May I help you?” Maybe he’d mistaken the An Affair to Remember sign on the door for something else entirely and had wandered in by mistake.

The cowboy’s grin stretched to his ears, giving him a cocky, almost mischievous look. One that most women would find charming. She was not most women.

“I’ve an appointment with Ms. Winslow.” He tipped his hat brim to his forehead.

“Well, you aren’t June, I take it.”

His blue eyes twinkled, and she felt a tingle somewhere in the vicinity of her belly. Odd that. She shifted her weight, hoping the feeling would go away.

“I’m her brother, and I’m here to represent her. She had a family emergency, and I offered to step in.”

“I hope everything is okay.”

He nodded, his smile still full and strong, as if he was amused at being in her office. “It will be. She asked me to meet with you and show you the portfolio, and she’ll call you tomorrow about pricing and all that stuff. She really is an excellent florist. Very creative, with a great sense of color.”

Now it was her turn to smile. She appreciated family loyalty, family support. The kind she’d always gotten from her mother, if not from her father. “Sounds like a plan. Come on in…” He hadn’t introduced himself.

“Rusty. Rusty Russell.”

She couldn’t help but look him over as he unfolded to his full height. That tingly sensation was back. He must be over six feet. His face was etched with high cheekbones, a Grecian nose, and a firm, wide jaw. He had a muscular build, as revealed by the blue T-shirt that stretched over his rather prominent arm muscles and the jeans that hugged a pair of strapping thighs. Way too handsome to be in her waiting room.

“For the hair color?”

“Yes, ma’am. Family thinks it suits, so I’m stuck with it.”

She motioned for him to enter her office and wondered why her heart was pounding. True that at five feet eight it wasn’t the norm for her to feel dwarfed by a man, but it certainly wasn’t fear that caused that reaction. Quite the contrary. He intrigued her. Most men of her acquaintance wouldn’t be caught dead lugging around a portfolio of flower arrangements. But he didn’t act as if there was anything strange about it and seemed happy to be helping his sister.

He squeezed into the bamboo-backed chair by her desk, and the seat seemed to shrink to child size. She’d rented the first chairs she’d seen at the furniture rental store. She made a mental note to get more substantial seating. She wanted clients to feel comfortable.

Usually she sat behind the desk in an effort to project a more businesslike and in-charge image, but for reasons she wasn’t about to examine, she opted to sit across from him in the other chair.

He swung toward her, their knees within inches of touching. Something else she should remedy by repositioning.

“Now show me what you’ve got.”

He winked, and heat rose to her cheeks. Goodness, she hoped she wasn’t blushing, but from his widening grin, that was a lost hope. He handed her the binder.

The tips of her fingers brushed his. His hands were large, with big knuckles and weathered skin. She wondered if he was a working cowboy like his clothing suggested. She didn’t detect the scent of hay or horse. But he didn’t look like a weekend cowboy either, though there were lots of them in Wyoming these days.

She opened the binder to a picture of an exquisite centerpiece arranged in a long-stemmed vase. White peonies, pink and red roses, and white hydrangeas were clustered at varying heights, all interspersed with baby’s breath and white stock. Stunning.

“Doesn’t that make a statement?” the cowboy asked.

What man said that about flowers? She raised her gaze, and he was still grinning at her, but now with an element of pride in his expression.

“It does. It’s a beautifully balanced piece both in color, texture, and size, with the larger, heftier blooms at the bottom of the cluster and the more delicate ones toward the top.” It really was special.

“She’s always had an eye for flowers. When she was younger, my dad built her a greenhouse so she could grow all kinds of flowers, and she’d make these beautiful arrangements for my mother. Kind of put her siblings to shame when it came to giving my mom gifts.”

Kristy chuckled. Likely June Thompson would not have shared such a personal tidbit with a prospective client.

Kristy settled the binder on her lap and flipped through the colorful photos. One arrangement was more spectacular than the next. Some were opulent and lush, others elegant and spare. All were beautiful. The woman certainly had an eye.

And Kristy needed a good florist for the gala. She had to present to the committee the following week, and she’d been scrambling to line up vendors. And apparently flowers were a detail the new bridal client, Lisa Wilson, had not gotten around to arranging. So Kristy had offered to take on that chore and everything that went with a day-of coordinator for about a fifth of what she would charge for planning the whole wedding. But if that was what it took to get started, to develop a reputation in the region, that was what she’d do. Marcia was a stickler about pricing, but uncharacteristically, she’d given Kristy free rein on that score in order to get the business off the ground.

Now Kristy just had to make the right decisions.

“What are her payment terms? Will she take a twenty percent deposit, or will she require the whole bill to be prepaid? I have a wedding client that needs flower arrangements.” Prepaid would be a deal-breaker for Marcia and, she suspected, the new client as well.

He leaned closer, blocking out anything in her line of sight but him. So close she could see the flecks of orange in his blue eyes. She sat back until her spine pressed the textured back of the chair.

“That you’d have to discuss with her when she calls tomorrow.”

He sat back, and she could breathe again.

“Fair enough but you can tell her that even though my business is new to the area, we are an event company with a strong reputation, and we are not interested in prepaying for services. But if we can work out a reasonable deposit, I have a client who needs flowers for the rehearsal dinner, the church, the wedding party, and of course, the reception. I would not expect my client to have to prepay the total.” And it would give her a chance to check out the work of Flowers by June before handing over the gala order.

He cocked his head. His blue eyes sparkled, and the lines around his eyes crinkled. Her mind went blank.

“I don’t think she would ask you to do that.”

“What?” She flipped her blond hair over her shoulder.

He grinned. “Ask you to pay ahead.”

Right.

“Some vendors have gotten burned when a couple has a change of heart.” She closed the notebook. “So I understand the concern.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, and his muscles bulged under the T-shirt. He definitely was a big guy. All male. But talking flowers. With her.

“A change of heart? I can’t imagine that happening once two people decide to get married. If they love each other, then there shouldn’t be a problem.”

A romantic too? Yet he sat there, a big, brawny cowboy who looked like he’d be more at home in a bar talking cattle than in an office talking flowers. And wasn’t she stereotyping. She mentally shook her head.

“Reality is a lot less romantic, Mr. Russell.” As she well knew.

“Rusty, please.”

She nodded toward the portfolio on her lap. “May I keep this to show my event designer?”

He nodded but made no motion to leave.

“Is there something else?” He was way too distracting.

He looked around, as if expecting to find something else. “Just wondering if you wanted to go for coffee? Since you’re new here, I could fill you in on the area. I know a lot of people.”

Tempting. She’d love to find out more about him. But as the saying went, curiosity killed the cat. Plus, she had a ton of things to take care of, as her to-do list could testify, including meeting with her new client’s venue manager and caterer and meeting with the event liaison for the gala. No way could she afford to screw up either opportunity. And she was prepared to devote every waking minute to assure her success. She couldn’t fail. For her own sake. For Ariel’s.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m rather pressed for time at the moment.” And you are way too tempting for someone who has sworn off men.

“Maybe there’s a moment when you won’t be.”

He looked so confident she would agree. She admired that confidence, but sometimes confidence was misplaced. “I doubt it.” He would definitely be distracting. Not to mention that it was a little presumptuous of him. How did he know she wasn’t in a relationship or married? Though unfortunately, neither was the case. And not likely to be anytime soon.

He rose and placed his hat on his head, and she was reminded of just how much he filled a room. He looked all western. All man. “Well, I hope you’ll consider Flowers by June, and maybe I’ll see you around again.”

She placed the notebook on her desk, followed him to the doorway, and opened the door to the waiting room. “So you’re actually part of the floral business?” He certainly was a study in contradictions.

“Just for the summer. I’ve applied to be a police officer in town. Waiting to be notified that I got a slot for the training academy.”

Well, police officer fit more with his image and what she guessed was his age—near to hers, she reckoned. Of course, there she was, stereotyping again.

“Good luck. Tell June I hope everything works out with the family emergency and I’ll be calling her tomorrow.”

He lifted his hat just as Ariel stepped through the outer doorway into the waiting room. “Have a great day, Kristy.”

“You too, Rusty.” She couldn’t help returning his smile, a smile she was sure had charmed many women.

He turned his smile on Ariel. “Howdy, ma’am.”

“How-dy.” Ariel strung out the word as Rusty slipped through the outer doorway.

Ariel kept her eyes focused on the glass door as Rusty disappeared into the hallway. “Who was that hunk?”

Ariel was much more open to people and new experiences than Kristy would ever be. With Ariel’s baby face framed by long blond hair, waiflike figure, big brown eyes, and flowy clothes, she looked like a model for a Margaret Keane drawing

“Hunk? I hadn’t noticed.” But she knew her grin would give her away. She headed back to her desk.

Ariel followed.

“Not much you didn’t. Don’t tell me he’s getting married and wants us to plan the wedding? It’d be a shame if he was off the market just as we got here.”

“No. He’s the florist. Or at least representing the florist. Seems the owner of Flowers by June is his sister. She had some sort of emergency, and he stepped in to keep the meeting.”

“I certainly wouldn’t have pegged him for a florist.”

“Makes us both guilty of stereotyping. Turns out he’s applying to be a police officer.”

Ariel scooted to one of the chairs by Kristy’s desk. “Well, didn’t we get chummy.”

Kristy shrugged and hoped she didn’t blush. “Just some chitchat. I mean, I was as intrigued as you as to what he was doing with a florist’s portfolio in his hands.”

“Any good?” Ariel set her purse on the desk.

“The florist? I’d say so, but you’re the real judge.” She pointed to the notebook. “The portfolio shows some beautiful and creative pieces. I just hope she doesn’t need to be prepaid. By the way, we got that new client. It’s a day-of coordinating job, but they do need flowers.”

Ariel clapped. “That’s good news. Now we just have to hope this client goes through with the marriage.” Ariel sat in the seat that had been occupied by Rusty. Her petite figure looked right at home in the minimalist chair. “If only we could screen for potential cold-feet syndrome.”

“Or for cheating spouses-to-be.” Kristy sat behind the desk, sank back in her upholstered chair, and cupped her hands behind her head. She needed to stop dwelling on her own sorry past, especially when dealing with other people’s weddings. “I think I’m going to trade in those chairs for a more substantial set. Those look too… delicate.”

Ariel glanced at the chair, then back at Kristy. “So did you get his number?”

“ His number? Why would I need his number?”

“He had a Cheshire cat-sized grin on his face, like he’d just found his next mouse. And you were blushing. I’d say there was interest on both your parts.”

Kristy straightened. “You’re imagining things. I certainly wasn’t blushing. And I’m not interested. The only thing that interests me is making a success of this operation. The only thing.” If she said it enough times, it would sink in.

“Denial won’t change facts, Kristy.”