How the Cowboy Was Won Page 2

  “I have to tell you right up front, this is a labor of love. There’s no pay at all on the front end,” Ember said. “When and if the film makes revenue through ticket sales, the actors will get a small percentage of the take.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind. I just want the experience of working with you.”

  “Why?” Ember wasn’t trying to be difficult; she was just a bottom-line person who liked knowing where she stood. “Are you looking to become an actor?”

  “Confession time.” Chriss Anne splayed her hands on the table, her fingernails painted chartreuse with pink seahorses on them. “You mentored my friend Kourtney, and she says you completely turned her life around.”

  Aww, that was sweet. One summer, back when she was in college, Ember had served as a mentor for an at-risk-teens program through her church. She remembered Kourtney well. She’d been a disadvantaged young girl with a rebellious streak and a bright IQ who reminded Ember a lot of herself at that age.

  “How is Kourtney?”

  Chriss Anne beamed. “She’s spending a year abroad as an au pair in Spain, and she said she would never have had the confidence to go for it without the life skills you taught her.”

  A warm glow lit the center of Ember’s chest. She might have messed up royally in her own life, but if she helped an underprivileged kid like Kourtney, she’d done at least one good thing.

  “Filming goes for three weeks, starting next Tuesday. Eight in the morning until five at night. Do you currently have a job?”

  Chriss Anne shook her head. “I was looking after Miss Delia, but her Old Timer’s got real bad, and my cousin had to finally put her in a home.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that about Miss Delia.” Chriss Anne’s great-aunt Delia was a town fixture and one of the founders of the group of women who answered the Dear Cupid letters that tourists left at the base of the Cupid stalagmite in the local caverns. At one time or another, almost every woman—and a few men too—in town had served as a Letters to Cupid volunteer, Ember included. She liked volunteering. It made her feel like a larger part of her community.

  “It’s a shame about Delia.” Chriss Anne fidgeted with her bra strap, which kept falling out from underneath the sleeve of her party dress. “But that means I’m free and can help with your movie. If you could use someone. I’ll do anything. Be a gofer. Make coffee. Whatever you need.”

  Ember had a feeling she hadn’t yet struck at the heart of the girl’s true motive. “Wouldn’t your time be better spent looking for another job?”

  “Oh I have one,” Chriss Anne said. “As a camp counselor, but it doesn’t start until the middle of June.”

  “So that’s it? You’re just looking for a way to kill time until the camp opens?”

  “Gain experience.” Chriss Anne’s smile was a bit over-the-top, like the latest trend to put way too much sugary frosting on cupcakes.

  “And?”

  Chriss Anne leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “I was hoping . . .”

  Ah, here it comes.

  “If you could . . .” Chriss Anne moistened her lips. “If you could . . . well, you know . . .”

  “Know what?”

  “Do that thing you do . . . for me.”

  Ember cocked her head. “What thing is that?”

  “You know . . .” The girl seemed to love the phrase. “Hook me up with a guy.”

  Ember inclined her head and suppressed a smile. Now here was the meat of it. “You want me to find you a boyfriend?”

  “Not just any boyfriend, but the right boyfriend. I want a forever man.”

  “Don’t you think you’re awfully young to be settling down?”

  “I’m twenty-two. My mama got married when she was nineteen, and my gamma before her was only seventeen. I’m ready, but I’ve been through a string of guys who were all flash and no substance, if you know what I mean.”

  Oh she knew all right. Trey.

  “Please, please, please.” Chriss Anne pressed her palms together in front of her heart, a gesture of entreaty. “I want to be madly in love.”

  Hey, she thought, so do I, and that surprised her.

  “Honey,” Ember murmured, “here’s where being ‘old’ comes in handy. You learn the hard way that sometimes the thing you want the most is not the thing you most need.”

  “But sometimes, you can get what you want, right?” Chriss Anne looked like a kitten, all wide-eyed and huggable. “I mean, your sister Kaia got Ridge Lockhart, and she’d had a crush on him since she was knee-high to a grasshopper.”

  “Some people are luckier than others,” Ember said. “You can’t always bank on luck or chemistry. Chemistry is notorious for leading you astray.”

  Trey.

  “I’m lucky,” Chriss Anne bragged. “I’ve won six lotto scratch-offs this last year to the tune of three hundred and thirty-six dollars.”

  “That is lucky,” Ember said kindly.

  “See.” Chriss Anne beamed. “There’s hope for me.”

  “Sure, there’s hope. But honestly, Chriss Anne, you don’t need a matchmaker. If there’s a guy that you like, why not just go talk to him?”

  “Because the guy I like knows words that are longer than my arm, and when I’m around him my tongue gets all twisted up, and I can’t put two sentences together. I’ve been reading the encyclopedia just so I can understand what he’s saying half the time.”

  It sounded like a mismatch for sure.

  “What do you guys have in common?” she asked, sincerely trying to help.

  Chriss Anne paused, screwing up her mouth in thought and drumming her fingertips on the table. “Oh, I know . . . we both love stargazing.”

  Around Cupid, with the McDonald Observatory not far away and some of the clearest skies in the country, a lot of people enjoyed stargazing.

  “What else do you have in common?”

  “Hmm.” Chriss Anne tapped her chin with an index finger. “Let’s see. We both like Rocky Road ice cream.”

  So did Ember. What wasn’t to like? Chocolate, almonds, and marshmallows. “That’s a solid foundation to build a relationship on.”

  She was being sarcastic, but Chriss Anne squealed, “I know! So you’ll help me?”

  “Chriss Anne, I’m not a professional matchmaker. I introduced a few people to each other, and things just happened to work out for them—”

  “You could at least introduce me to him.”

  “You don’t already know your potential love interest?”

  Chriss Anne shook her head and sent her carrot curls bobbing. “Not official-like. Once, he held an umbrella over my head during a rainstorm and helped me to my car when I worked at the commissary at the McDonald Observatory, but I was too tongue-tied to even say thank you.”

  “How about you leave a note on his car telling him how much you appreciated his kindness?”

  “I can’t do that. It was over a year ago. He probably doesn’t even remember me.” Chriss Anne slapped her cheeks as if trying to wake herself up after pulling an all-nighter. “Although he did compliment my hair.”

  “And you’ve been carrying a torch for him all this time?”

  Chriss Anne’s nose crinkled. “What does ‘carrying a torch’ mean? Is it like in the Olympics?”

  “Never mind the torch thing. It’s just something older people say. Listen, Chriss Anne, if you’re finding it that hard to talk to him, maybe he’s not the man for you.”

  “Please don’t blow me off. I really need help.”

  “I don’t—”

  “I can pay,” Chriss Anne said, pulling money from the butterfly-shaped clutch purse. “I saved the lotto money.”

  “I can’t accept your cash.”

  “I don’t get it,” Chriss Anne cried. “You help everybody else in town. What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing is wrong with you.” Ember’s heartstrings plucked at the desperate, love-struck expression on the girl’s face. “You are absolutely perfect just the way you are.”

>   “I thought you of all people would understand,” Chriss Anne wailed, steamrolling right over Ember’s comment, thrusting a fistful of dollar bills at her. “We’re both gingers.”

  “Listen, listen, I can’t take your money.” Ember folded her hand over Chriss Anne’s trembling fingers.

  “If you won’t help me, who will?” Chriss Anne shook her head like a long-necked goose, all sway and waddle. “You are so smart. One of the smartest people in town. And you don’t take crap off anybody. You’re bold and brave and gosh darn it, when I’m old, I want to be just like you.”

  The girl was so worked up her eyes bugged, and the three couples sitting at the table next to them were leaning in, obviously eavesdropping on their conversation.

  Ember gave the Nosey Parkers a pointed stare, waved toward the crowded dance floor where people were shaking their feet to the “Hokey Pokey.” “Why don’t y’all go find out if the hokey pokey really is what it’s all about.”

  On command, the three couples got up to dance.

  “See?” Chriss Anne giggled. “See how you got those people to do what you wanted?”

  Yes, and if Trey had been here, he would have chewed her out for being too “bossy.” Good thing Trey wasn’t here.

  “All right,” Ember said. “All right.” Chriss Anne might need a lot of work, but in real estate agent parlance, the girl had good bones. She was earnest and sincere and kind. Ember could work with that. “I’ll help you, but only on one condition.”

  Chriss Anne thrust the dollar bills at her again.

  “Put the money away. I don’t charge for helping you find your perfect match . . .” But apparently, she could charge for her services if she wanted. Ember held up an index finger. “And you haven’t heard my condition.”

  Chriss Anne stuffed the money back into her purse and sat up straight. “What is it?”

  “If I decide this man is not the guy for you, you’ll heed my advice and move on.”

  Chriss Anne started to whine. “But—”

  “Shtt.” Ember held up her finger again. “I won’t leave you high and dry. If he’s not the one, I’ll find you someone who will love you exactly for who you are, and you won’t have to read the encyclopedia just to talk to him. Agreed?”

  Chriss Anne bit her bottom lip and toed the leg of the table. “But I really, really like him.”

  Once upon a time, she’d really liked Trey too, back before she knew better.

  “Keep in mind, you’ll want someone who likes you back with as much enthusiasm as you like him. I’m speaking from experience here. There are some advantages to being old.”

  Chriss Anne sighed. “Okay, I agree. But will you try to match me with the guy I want?”

  “I’m not making any promises, but tell me, where is this mysterious brainiac?”

  “Right there.” Chriss Anne pointed toward the open barn door, a dreamy tone in her voice.

  Ember turned her head and saw her most favorite person in the whole wide world.

  Ranger Lockhart.

  Her heart surged.

  A year in New Zealand and he was more handsome than ever. His hair was longer, his dimples deeper, eyes brighter, skin more tanned. Had he gotten taller? Or had she simply forgotten what a compelling figure he cut?

  No wonder Chriss Anne was head-over-heels for him. So were half the women in the building. What a sticky wicket!

  Ranger caught Ember’s eyes, grinned as big as Texas, settled his Stetson back on his head, and held his arms open wide.

  Instantly, Ember was out of her chair and running straight toward her best friend.

  Chapter 2

  “Men of sense, whatever you may choose to say, do not want silly wives.”

  —Jane Austen, Emma

  Laughing, Ranger snagged Ember in his arms and spun her around on the dance floor. Skype and FaceTiming didn’t cut it when it came to best friends.

  Her luscious red hair was pinned in a fancy upsweep that showed off her high cheekbones, creamy skin, and lively blue eyes, and he couldn’t stop staring at her. He’d always known she was gorgeous, but right here, right now, he could have sworn she was the most beautiful woman in the galaxy.

  Ember threw back her head and laughed that sweet laugh of hers, which was such music to his ears.

  He’d been gone for a year, fully submersed in postdoctoral work, and truth be told he hadn’t even realized he’d been homesick until he held her in his arms.

  She was what he’d missed.

  Not the high desert plains of the Trans-Pecos, not his brothers who were all busy with their own affairs, not even the wide expanse of starry skies that had captivated his attention when he was a sickly kid suffering from scarlet fever, and its aftermath. There were starry skies aplenty in New Zealand.

  Nope. None of that.

  Ember, this flame of a woman, his forever best friend, was the only person, place, or thing he’d deeply pined for.

  “I missed the hell out of you.” He growled playfully and spun her around again.

  “Ditto.” She beamed.

  People were staring at them, but that was to be expected. People always stared at Ember; she had that effect on everyone.

  Including him.

  Hell, especially him.

  His best friend drew him like a moth to a candle, but he’d never felt the attraction as intensely as he was feeling it now. Damn, but she was sexy and bright and energetic. It was a bit confusing, this deep need to touch her, and to keep touching her, as if he couldn’t believe she was real.

  He had missed her so much. Missed her bluntness and her loyalty. Missed her verve and self-confidence. Missed her playful generosity and expressive laughter. Missed her bold cinnamon-and-anise scent.

  He liked her take-life-by-the-horns approach, and how she slapped her cards on the table, direct and honest. He liked the almost constant twinkle in her eyes as if she were perpetually on the verge of mischief, and how her excitement was contagious. He liked the knowing smile that curled her lips over straight white teeth, and how that smile slipped under his skin, warming him from the inside out.

  She was, in many ways, his complete opposite. She was an extroverted risk-taker who had a tendency to leap before she looked. The life of the party, easily bored with mundane activities. She was expressive and lively and filled with raw optimism. She hated phoniness and flattery, and quickly saw through people who tried to pull the wool over her eyes.

  He liked to think they balanced each other out. Him getting her to think about things before she blindly jumped in. Her pushing him out of his comfort zone. The relationship had been going strong for thirty-two years and he couldn’t, in his wildest imagination, picture a world without her in it.

  “I’m getting dizzy with the spinning.” She laughed. “Please put me down.”

  Reluctantly, he let go.

  “Hey mister,” Ember said, giving him a good-natured slug on the arm, the way they’d greeted each other since they were toddlers in the sandbox. “Why didn’t you tell me you were getting in today? I would have picked you up at the airport.”

  He lightly tapped her shoulder with his fist. “I wanted to surprise you, and you had other things cooking.”

  “Paint me happy.” She embraced him in a bear hug. “I was worried you weren’t going to make it for Ingrid’s christening tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said.

  “Cut it pretty close. You were supposed to be home last week.” She pretended to pout.

  “Finishing touches on my research project.”

  “That’s my Ranger.” This time she tapped his chin with her fist. “Head in the clouds.”

  “You do know that time really is relative.”

  “Not here on Earth.”

  “Earth”—he laughed—“has always been my Achilles’ heel.”

  “So New Zealand. Completely done?” She clapped her small hands as if she were thrilled at the prospect. “No going back?”

 
; Ranger didn’t have the heart to tell her that they’d offered him a teaching position at the University of Canterbury. It was plan B if he didn’t get the job he really wanted—a directorship at the McDonald Observatory. Until he’d left for New Zealand, he’d worked at the observatory under various fellowships, but he had not been offered anything permanent. He’d returned to hold the director’s feet to the fire. Either find him a permanent home at the observatory, or he was pulling up stakes and moving to New Zealand for good. The only qualm he had about the move was the woman standing in front of him.

  But what if Wes told him, Bye, have fun being a Kiwi. What would he do about Ember?

  Wes Montgomery had been Ranger’s mentor from the first time he showed up at the observatory when he was fifteen, begging for any kind of work that let him be near the telescopes. Wes had finagled him a position in food service, but when he caught Ranger sneaking into the command center, he’d taken him under his wing and pulled strings to get him accepted into the University of Texas after Ranger graduated from high school at sixteen as the class valedictorian with a perfect 4.0 GPA.

  “Have you seen your family?” Ember wrapped her arm around his waist, and he enjoyed the warmth and weight of her body against his.

  He shook his head. “Dad and Vivi are in Vegas,” he said, referring to his father and his third wife. “They’re flying back tonight, and when I arrived, Ridge and Kaia were meeting with Father Dubanowski, going over the details of Ingrid’s christening, so I came straight here.”

  To you.

  “Remington?” she asked about his younger half brother who was Army Special Forces and deployed in the Middle East.

  “He couldn’t get leave.”

  “I hate that Remington can’t make it home. He’ll be missed.”

  For sure. Ranger hadn’t seen his brother in over two years.

  “And Rhett?” she asked.

  Rhett was his youngest half brother, and a professional bull-riding star. “He’s in town, but no telling whose bed he’s in at the moment.”