Eventually, though, Stoney River tapped on the window, the cowboy’s craggy face appearing, eyes like chips of emerald. “You dying, man?”

  “You wish.”

  “Not so. You make my husband a lot of money.”

  “Not you?” He motioned, and Stoney stepped back to let him out. “I need coffee.”

  “Money isn’t my problem, man. Coffee, though? That I can provide. Come on.”

  “Thanks.” He grabbed his laptop bag before closing up the SUV. He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I don’t suppose the yoga people brought in a masseuse.”

  “They did, in fact. Two. One pretty little boy from Carbondale and a big, hairy bear man who could break you in two from over by Vail.”

  “Oh, you are a flirt.” Maybe he could get tag-teamed. Was that bad?

  “I may be married, but I ain’t dead.” Those green eyes twinkled. “You iron out a menu, and I’ll set you up an appointment.”

  “Thank you. I have a headache that’s threatening to destroy me.”

  “You want some Tylenol?”

  “If anyone has Excedrin, I’ll take that.” He smiled. “I’ll make it.”

  “Come on to the kitchen. Geoff will offer some scary-assed herbal remedy, and I’ll sneak you Excedrin from my medicine cabinet.”

  “My hero.” Mason meant it too. He would be in Stoney’s debt.

  “That’s me. Cowboy Superman.” A guy walked by, stacked to the ceiling and naked as the day was long. “Namaste,” Stoney called.

  The guy nodded and grinned, just happy as a pig in shit.

  “I assume your kiddo….”

  “At his grandpa’s. He’s not really… ready for random nudity.” Stoney’s voice dropped. “I got to admit, the first time some customer walked through the kitchen nekkid, I damn near dropped my teeth.”

  “I bet. How’s Geoff holding up?”

  “Well, I had to tell him he couldn’t strip off and cook. Health code violations.”

  “Shame.” He walked into the kitchen and held his arms open. “Geoffy!”

  “Oh, Mason. How are you, you crazy little man? Upscale redneck? I adore you.” The little man came bebopping over and grabbed him in a tight hug that threatened to dislodge his spine and realign all his chakras. “Trev is sounding a little hysterical on the phone. Have you been into the office?”

  “Does he micromanage you, Stoney?”

  Stoney shot him a glance from over one shoulder. “Shit, man. I live here with him. He gets my kid to do it.”

  Mason chuckled. “God, it smells good. Hazelnut coffee?”

  “Hazelnut and cinnamon with a hint of vanilla. Magical. You look like your head hurts. Are you okay?” Strong hands landed on his shoulders and spun him, fingers immediately digging in and kneading.

  “Oh.” He let his head fall forward on his neck, his tension beginning to melt away. Why wasn’t Geoff his type? He could do this all day.

  A cup of perfect coffee appeared before him then, and Mason was in heaven. This was why he went out of his way to use this place—the best coffee, an unbeatable view, rustic luxury, and people who actually gave a shit.

  “Hey!” Angie, the head wrangler, walked in, then tugged off her cowboy hat. “I smell hazelnut. Mason, how’s it hanging?”

  “Hey, lady. I’m going to steal Geoff away.”

  Stoney handed Angie the cup of coffee he’d been making and started another one.

  “No, you won’t. This is where he belongs. Thanks, boss. Your better half is on his way, walking bowlegged. Good job last night.”

  “Angie!” Stoney’s cheeks went hot pink. “Too much sharing.”

  “Sorry.” She winked, looking wicked as hell. “This whole yoga retreat needs naked girls.”

  Ford walked in, all long-legged and wearing the same jeans and button-downs everyone else was and making it look like they were utterly designer. “Find a naked-girl yoga retreat that needs a home and I’m absolutely willing to do it. Hey, Mason. Coffee, baby? Please?”

  Mason watched Stoney hand over another cup of coffee and grab another mug. He couldn’t stop the smile on his face for anything. Well, except when Geoff grabbed his head like a chiropractor and popped his neck.

  Oh God.

  “Did you kill him?” Angie asked. “Because if you did, I’m totally taking pictures.”

  “Hey, I have never killed anyone with my ministrations,” Geoff intoned.

  “My headache is gone.” Mason stared at Stoney, who was laughing at him.

  “I told you he’d have some hippy-dippy answer.” Stoney grinned, utterly unrepentant, and took a deep drink of his coffee.

  “I would never let Geoff kill you, Mason.” Ford sat down next to Angie, and they bumped shoulders. “Did you get the vet up for that one horse that has the hurt hoof?”

  Angie nodded. “He’ll be up in an hour or so. He’s on rounds.”

  “Excellent.”

  The conversation flowed around Mason for a little while, a plate of banana bread and blueberry muffins appearing out of nowhere.

  This place was magical.

  Geoff was like a sprite or something. Fairy? Brownie? Hell if he knew. The guy was unstoppable.

  “So, what can you tell us about these guys, Mason?” Geoff asked.

  “Surprisingly little. The wedding’s being financed by a corporation out of Texas, relatively hush-hush for a two-hundred-and-fifty-guest affair. Sam Wright and Doug Preston. I haven’t even spoken to either one. They’re in… Tibet climbing mountains or snorkeling with turtles or rescuing sharks or something.” He didn’t think either one of them worked beyond just being rich.

  “Ah. Texas money.” Stoney’s tone was wry. “I’ll walk you through the stuff we have ready. Tanner made a dozen cornhole boards, and he’s waiting for you to give him details for the groom and groom’s boards.”

  “They’re doing denim and leather for their ‘colors.’” He was hoping it didn’t end up looking like a leather-daddy wedding. That would clash with his burlap swags.

  “We can totally work with that. Do a nice faded denim and it won’t look too city.” Geoff shrugged when they all stared. “What? Dark denim is for people back East.”

  “Like in Denver?” Angie asked.

  “Like New York or something. I hated that trend.” Geoff scowled, but he couldn’t hold the expression long.

  “Faded denim I have. In yardage. Let’s talk menus, Geoff. Share your thoughts with me.”

  “Well, you said upscale redneck Texas. I chatted with our resident Texan.” Geoff jerked his head at Stoney. “We came up with everything from chicken-fried steak fingers with cream gravy dipping sauce to armadillo eggs. You said they wanted deviled eggs, so I thought some with bacon and jalapeno and some classic.”

  “Absolutely. I want tacos, grape-jelly meatballs, and some version of Li’l Smokies. We’ll need brisket, potato salad, beans for the plate dinner, I think. Maybe a brisket-rib-turkey platter served family style?”

  “Do we need a vegetarian option?”

  He blinked. “Do Texans come in vegetarian?”

  Stoney snorted. “Rich ones might. Or foreigners. What if they have friends from Tibet or wherever they are?”

  “Hmm. Okay, what about something like black-eyed pea fritters?”

  “Are you gonna make queso, Geoff?” Stoney asked.

  “I’m not going to ask Geoff to make cheese, Stoney. He has a budget to work with.”

  Stoney blinked. “Velveeta and Ro-Tel. Costs about six bucks.”

  “We’re having a Colorado/Texas language barrier thing. Of course we’ll have queso and nachos too. Maybe taquitos.” Geoff winked at Mason, who still felt like he didn’t get the joke. That was probably okay, but he didn’t think Stoney got it either.

  “Do you have a budget workup?”

  Geoff moved to his little office corner of the kitchen to open his fold-down desk. “Are you having the cakes brought in, or am I contracting those with Dina?”

  Lord. Dina was a lovely, if batty, old lady who would decorate any cake Geoff baked. She made gorgeous gum-paste flowers, but this was two guys.

  “I have a bakery down in Aspen that’s doing the cake and the grooms’ cake. You’re in charge of the cupcakes in to-go boxes for everyone, the doughnuts for the doughnut wall, and whatever little sweets are needed otherwise.” They’d decided on housing the wedding party at the ranch, along with about fifty of the couple’s friends, but the rest were going to stay in Aspen with shuttles running them up for the ceremony and reception, thank God. “Did we arrange the portable toilets?”

  “I got Fancy-Assed Porta-Potties on it.”

  He spun around and stared at Ford. “Those women are a nuisance!”

  They were notorious for their signs around the Roaring Fork area, their swagger, and their excessive wearing of flannel.

  Angie growled. “Careful, bud. They do have a shitty job.”

  “They’ll also do two luxury portable bathrooms with sinks and showers and hookups for two weeks for six fifty,” Ford said. “You can’t beat their deals.”

  “Six fifty. Oh man. Yeah. That frees up some budget items, doesn’t it?” It was expensive to get Texas wildflowers in Colorado in June. Damned expensive.

  Ford looked a bit smug. “It does. Lets us get some new linens and soap baskets and shit.”

  “Works for me. Let’s get that soap company in Santa Fe? The one that does all the rich scents that you used for the Gregory job?” Those had been magical—leather and black pepper and cinnamons. Masculine and wonderful.

  “You got it.” Stoney waved a hand at Geoff. “Can you make a note, man?”

  “I’m on it, boss.”

  “Good deal. Angie, I see Doc’s truck. I’m going to leave you with Geoff and Ford, Mason. Y’all holler if you need me.” Stoney stood, and so did Angie, both of them taking their cups as they went.

  “How many cups a week do you guys lose?” Mason asked.

  Ford chuckled. “About a dozen. Geoff orders them in bulk.”

  “Stoney’s son builds these crazy structures from the pieces,” Geoff added. “He’s amazing.”

  “He is.” That deeply happy expression suited Ford to the ground. “How experienced are these guys as riders?”

  “I’ve been assured that they’re thrill seekers and both experienced riders.”

  “Okay. It’s a difference of horses that look sleek and expensive versus some slower, more settled mounts.”

  “Let’s go with sleek and expensive. We have a backup plan if the weather’s crappy?”

  “Geoff has a plan for the food to be under cover, at any rate. Flies. As far as the ceremony, we have huge tents to set up to keep the sun off these folks. We’re nearly eight thousand feet closer to the sun than they are. Barring gale force winds or a freak hailstorm, they’ll keep the weather off too.”

  Geoff nodded. “And if that happens, we’ll move everyone into the main gathering space. It’ll be crowded but doable.”

  “Sounds great. You guys are tops. The flowers are going to be delicate and frickin’ impossible, so they won’t be here until the day before or morning of.”

  “That’s fine. Do you have a backup there?”

  “Homicide.”

  “Right. Well, we can always send Tanner off to pick wildflowers and put them in mason jars,” Geoff said. “Anyone want brunchy food? I need to cook.”

  “Sounds good,” Ford said, then turned his attention back to Mason. “So, you’ll be here from the weekend before the event?”

  “If you don’t mind. It’s not a bad drive, but I’ll be putting in some late hours. Someone from the family will arrive Monday or Tuesday, the grooms on Thursday, the rest of the family will be coming Thursday and Friday. The rehearsal dinner is Friday, and we should be out of your hair full-time by Monday.”

  Mason was already exhausted thinking about it. He took a deep breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth. His phone beeped, the text showing Stoney’s number.

  You staying the night?

  ?? Why would Stoney ask that?

  Are. You. Staying. The. Night. Asshole.

  I can, sure, but I don’t want to put you guys out. What the hell?

  Massage appt at 8:30 pm. You can use the guest room at the house.

  IOU

  For a crusty old cowboy, Stoney could be a good man.

  “Are you texting with my man?” Ford asked easily. Ranch folks were like small-town folks. They thought nothing of being in each other’s business.

  “I totally am. He asked me to spend the night, even.”

  “You’re moving fast. I’ll make up the guest room. That will give us some real time to look at tent placement.”

  “And we need to discuss rehearsal dinner menus too,” Geoff added. “Mexican?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing that will make either guy bloated or acidy, Geoff.”

  “Ouch. Right. No broccoli or cauliflower, then, either.”

  “Or asparagus.”

  “Right. No one wants nasty honeymoon blows.”

  “Ew!” Ford tossed a piece of walnut at him from the banana bread.

  Geoff just pulled out eggs and cheese, sausage and flour. “True, though. I mean, the wedding day menu is tough on the tummy, but you know that’s for everyone else. The grooms will barely nibble.”

  “True. That’s really for the pictures.” Most couples didn’t remember eating their cake at all.

  “Not at our wedding,” Ford said.

  “Yes, well, you boys had two feet of new snow and a very sick mare. Everyone ate as if they were starving.” Geoff winked. “It was the most cowboy wedding ever.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “We just had to have it at Christmas,” Ford said. “I’m gonna go make up the guest room, okay? You and Geoff make lists.”

  “We’re on it. Thank you, Ford. I appreciate it. The massage will make the difference between me being a sane man and me going postal.”

  “Well, none of that.” Ford clapped him on the back when he went by, leaving Mason with Geoff.

  “Are you okay?” he asked Geoff, who was putting together a quiche.

  “I’m good. Excited about such a big party, but good.”

  “So what’s with the nervous cooking?”

  Geoff paused, then turned a rueful smile on him. “Naked yoga men. I am dying here.”

  “Ah. I do understand. The well is… a little dry.”

  “Right? And these guys are all stunning. They’re also guests.” Geoff sighed dramatically.

  “Ah, is that a rule?”

  “No one’s ever said, ‘Geoff, no touchy,’ but it’s sort of unwritten, you know? Like, would you boff a client’s dad?”

  “No. That makes for a bad reputation.”

  “Right? Now, the masseuse guys? They’re colleagues. But they’re so darned busy they don’t have the time.”

  “I have an appointment for eight thirty.”

  Geoff grinned over. “Are you going to be naughty, Mason?”

  “I certainly hope so.” Truth was, he was too tired, but he might have a nap midday. He could, and no one here would tell on him.

  “Good for you.” Geoff popped the quiche in the oven. “So, we’ll need some fun meals leading up to the wedding itself, right?”

  “We will. A lot of the core family guests will be here two or three days in advance. Apparently the father of the… well, the Wright daddy. He stayed here when it was a hunting lodge with Ty. He’d like some game meat. One of the grooms was very excited that you could make the Colorado-style pizza.”

  “I totally can. Ford would love that. I’ll put it on the menu. They do understand we don’t have a serve-to-order kitchen, right?”

  “They do. I explained all meals will be family style. I’ve tapped the Roaring Fork Bakery to help with making sure we always have snacks. I imagine you’ll need sandwiches and nibbles through the day, just like you do now, only on a larger scale.”

  “Ford says he’s hiring me a staff of waiters and a couple of sous chefs.”

  “Good deal. I might see if one of the bakers can come up and hang out. You do great stuff, but anything we can do to ease your load….” He smiled at Geoff, who was a damned good friend.

  Geoff came to him, held his hand a second. “This is a big deal, huh?”

  “Huge. I’ve never done anything this big, and I can’t mess it up. I just can’t.” He’d sunk weeks into this, turned down other jobs.

  “I’ll make sure it’s good, honey. I swear. Ford and Stoney are working their asses off too.”

  “I can tell. We’ll make it happen.” Maybe they’d even get into some magazines. The family was bringing in a photographer from… somewhere over by Austin. He was famous.

  He started making lists—get tux cleaned, make sure the cake was on point, get the Mr. and Mr. pillows from the… embroiderer? Embroidery lady? From Hazel.

  Geoff added all sorts of stuff, and Angie came back up to talk horses and trail rides and so on.

  By the time the quiche was ready, he was hungry and the kitchen was full of people and laughter again. There was a real rhythm to life on the ranch, which was great for guests and working folks alike.

  And if there were a few naked yoga guys to ogle, well, that was okay too.

  Chapter 3

  T he drive from Denver to Glenwood Springs was one of the most beautiful vistas Noah Wright had ever seen. That was a good thing, because it soothed the growly mood having to fly to Colorado a week early had caused him.

  Seriously, his schedule was slam-packed, but Daddy had suffered a minor heart attack last month, and instead of flying, he was going to ride with Uncle Tom and Aunt Cindy.

  Noah rolled his head on his neck and hunted for the turnoff on the state road that led to the Leanin’ N. Apparently one could get there from Glenwood-ish or from the Aspen area.

  God, it was pretty up here. Cold for June but damn pretty, and the sunshine was something special. The road wound up out of the canyon, gaining elevation, the red rock giving way to more alpine stuff.

  At least Sammy had decided to get married somewhere in the States. He would have had a hell of a time organizing this in Mexico.

  He checked the GPS, which had gone suspiciously quiet. Twenty miles. Okay. Man, no wonder the planner had said they’d shuttle folks in from Aspen.