Daddy had been talking about this place for ten years, at least, just on and on about how pretty it was, how the hunting was good. Noah wasn’t much of a hunter, but he did love to photograph wildlife when he got some rare time away, so he’d take it.

  He turned off on a county road, then finally a ranch road with a cattle guard at the gate. A tiny thrill went through him, because this was perfect for Sammy’s wedding. Just amazing.

  He hit the button at the electronic gate, and he heard, “Leanin’ N Ranch, this is Miranda. How can I help you?”

  “Hey. I’m Noah Wright, with the Wright/Preston party.”

  “Mr. Wright. Of course. I’ll buzz you in. You can park at the main house, and someone will be out to meet you.”

  “Thank you.” He hoped the main house was clearly marked…. Noah had seen his share of ranches, but this took his breath away.

  The gate slid open, not a rattle to be heard, and he headed in. The place was a little compound, with cabins dotting the area and a vast main house that was absolutely welcoming—there was a huge porch with rockers, and fire pits and chimineas placed here and there.

  He’d bet they got cold as a witch’s tit up here in the winter, but right now it looked like heaven, which was a good start. Maydell had been worried after dealing with the assistant or office manager or whatever he was with Rustic Romance. Apparently the guy was a little flittery and intense. Kinda citified too, which always made his Maydell deeply suspicious.

  She’d moved to Dallas from Royse City thirty-plus years ago and still considered herself a small-town girl.

  He took a couple of pictures and sent them to her and Sammy both, just so they could see.

  He parked at the house, sitting behind the wheel a few moments to stare. A little blond hard body and a skinny cowboy were heading across the porch, obviously chatting. Noah admired the view, hoping they didn’t notice him right away. This was better than dinner and a movie.

  The cowboy laughed at something Mr. Short and Studly said, and damn, that was a picture and a half.

  They both turned just then to look at him, and he was caught by bright blue eyes, rivaling the Colorado sky above them. Lord. Pretty.

  Okay, man. Get your ass out of the car.

  He popped the door open, and damned if Blond and Beautiful didn’t trot out to meet him. “Mr. Wright?”

  “That’s me.”

  “I’m Mason O’Reilly. I’ve been coordinating the wedding.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” He shook hands with Mason, then went for a wry grin. “Can you show me to a restroom?”

  “I can. Please, come with me.” They headed into the house and off to the right. There was a huge open room with windows that let light pour in, the whole place covered in shelves of books and sturdy furniture, a giant fireplace along one wall. “Right down that hall, first right. If you hit the dining room, you’ve gone too far.”

  “Thanks.” He liked the look of the ranch so far. Rustic but comfortable, and more modern than he’d been led to believe. He found the bathroom, which held sleek fixtures and Western art behind glass.

  Okay, this was nice. He’d seen the random picture, but they hadn’t done the place justice. He should have looked them up, sure, but he was busy, and really, this was what Sammy had wanted.

  He washed up, then made his way back out and found Mason waiting for him in the great room. “Would you like to put your bags in your cabin?” Mason asked, looking bright-eyed as a chipmunk.

  “I guess so. Y’all do a lot of events here?”

  “We do. They’re family, and this is a glorious space.”

  “It’s nice. This isn’t where the reception will be, though, right? It’s way too small.” He didn’t want to come off critical, but the space was tiny for two hundred or more.

  “No. No. There’s an outdoor venue with tents and fly covers that we’re going to use.”

  “Okay.” He glanced out one of the big windows. “If it rains?”

  “The tents are strong and sturdy. Unless there’s a hurricane, we’re covered.”

  “Right. I just need to check plan B and plan C. Sammy will freak right out if weather ruins her day.”

  “O-of course.” O’Reilly stumbled over the edge of a rug.

  “You okay?” He reached out to steady the guy.

  “Yes. Clumsy. Let me introduce you to one of the owners, Stoney River.”

  The cowboy from earlier stood in a doorway that clearly led to a dining and kitchen area. “Hey, there. Stoney River. Pleased. How was your drive?”

  “Good. Good. It was farther than I thought from the airport.”

  “Well, Grand Junction is closer, and they do have direct service from Dallas, but rental cars are much more scarce, and it’s a pretty drive in the summer.” Stoney chuckled. “You ever come up in the winter, come into the Junction.”

  “You sound like you might know a little bit about Dallas, hmm?”

  “Just a bit. I came up to New Mexico to go to college and never went back down.” Stoney chuckled. “Coffee?”

  “Lord yes, please.” They wandered out of the great room and through a huge dining room and into a warm, comforting kitchen that was set up with a huge farm-style table, where a young man sat and studiously wrote on a tablet.

  “This is my son, Quartz. Quartz, this is Mr. Wright.”

  “Hello, Mr. Wright. It is very nice to meet you.” The boy wouldn’t quite meet his eyes and didn’t offer his hand, but Noah got the sense that it wasn’t a bit of rudeness.

  No, he thought maybe Quartz was a little… what did Sammy call it? She had an early education degree. On the spectrum?

  “How do you take your coffee?” O’Reilly asked.

  “Black, please. Thank you.”

  “No problem.” The guy looked stressed as hell, but hey, wedding for over two hundred, right?

  He didn’t even want to be here, much less organize it. He had work to do. He had his laptop in the car. As soon as he saw the menu and the rest of the venue, he was holing up in his room and staying there.

  “So, we have two cabins that are connected, and we thought we’d give those to the grooms and then have the others for the wedding party and the family,” Stoney said.

  “The grooms?” Noah blinked. “You mean the bride and groom, right?”

  The cowboy blinked right back. “Of course. Sorry. I was tongue-tied there for a second. Quartz, can you go find Geoff and Uncle Ford for me?”

  “Okay.” Quartz stood up and gave him a half smile before leaving the room.

  O’Reilly stood with his back to them, making coffee.

  “Is everything okay?” How long did it take to make coffee? His senses—which had gotten him through a shitload of business deals and one particularly hinky merger—were telling him something was off.

  “Fine. Sorry. Just dealing with details. Lots of details.” O’Reilly handed him a coffee cup with the Leanin’ N logo over top a rainbow.

  He stared at the cup for a moment, alarm bells ringing. “Hmm.”

  “Let me show you to your cabin, Mr. Wright, and I’ll let you get settled.” O’Reilly gave him a look that was pure fake calm.

  Noah raised one brow, a habit that drove his sister nuts. “I would rather you tell me what’s going on.”

  “A wedding, I hope. There’s been a bunch of planning for it not to be.” O’Reilly smiled brightly. “Come on, let me show you your cabin. I think you’ll love it. Then I can give you a tour.”

  Oh, something was so going on here. Noah rose, taking his coffee with him. He had a feeling getting this one alone would make him much more forthcoming. “Lead the way.”

  “Of course. Stoney? Key?”

  “On it. You’re in a premium cabin. It’s the best cabin save the bride and groom ones. If y’all want to meet me out there, I’ll meet you.”

  “Absolutely. It’s a lovely accommodation. I think you’ll be incredibly comfortable.” O’Reilly had this tiny bit of hysteria going on.

  Stoney didn’t come with them, and Noah waited until they were well outside before grabbing O’Reilly’s arm. “Tell me.”

  “Pardon me?”

  He hated being lied to. Touching was probably off-limits, but he needed to know what was going on.

  “Tell me what’s going on, buddy.”

  “Look, Mister. Back off. No manhandling the staff.” Ooh. Touchy.

  He held up both hands. “Fine. Sorry. I’m a little stressed because you think my sister is a dude.”

  “Everything is going to be perfect for your sister’s wedding. Trust me.”

  “I want to do that, Mr. O’Reilly, but I’m getting a bad feeling that someone screwed up. Samantha Wright is my sister. She has six bridesmaids. This may be rainbow central, but she’s not a second groom.”

  “Perhaps if anyone at any point had contacted us using her full name, it might have saved some confusion.”

  “Did you ask?” He could chew on Maydell later, because she sure deserved it, but damn. “Didn’t you have to get her full name for invitations and the guestbook and all?”

  “I didn’t handle the invitations, your people did, and no. This is a gay resort. I was told Sammy. I had no reason to question.”

  Noah stared at the guy, who stared back at him. No way was he taking any of the blame for this debacle. No way.

  “This used to be a hunting lodge. My daddy talks about it all the time. I had no reason to think it was a gay resort.”

  He could hear the little shit’s eyes roll like dice. Noah was going to pick up those eyes and roll them right back.

  “Regardless,” Noah went on, “you have less than a week before the wedding, and I imagine your theme for the wedding is a little skewed.” He was holding back, trying not to be the stereotypical Texan….

  “We’re fine. Honestly. No worries.”

  “I’m not sure you get to say that.” Noah was starting to get a little bitchy and he knew it, but damn. “No offense, but when you work in customer service, it’s wise to acknowledge your client’s concerns.”

  “You have nothing to worry about. Believe me. Your sister is in good hands.”

  “I would like to hear your plan. Is an hour long enough?”

  “For what?”

  He took a deep breath, then gave up and put his Texas right out in the forefront. “For me to sit in here and read my assistant the riot act while you get your shit together and outline how you intend to fix this shitshow you call a wedding planner business. I want a full tour and report in one hour, complete with all of the changes you need to make.”

  “Do you now?” Mr. Short, Broad, and Blond’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I tell you what, Mr. Wright. I’ll give you an hour to chew whatever you feel the need to. I’ll continue to do my job, which is to make sure your sister’s day is perfect. If I were you, I’d take a part of that hour to consider what the fuck you think you’ll do if I decide to walk off the job because you manhandled me. I guarantee you, even your money would find it hard to put a wedding together from scratch in five days.”

  Noah’s mouth dropped open, and he pushed right into the little butthead’s space. “Are you threatening me? Look, I have no doubt Maydell is partly to blame for this, and I admitted it. That doesn’t mean you didn’t screw up dotting your i’s and crossing your t’s.”

  The cowboy appeared like a jack-in-the-box. “I have your cabin ready, sir. Cabin B. It’s gorgeous. I think I may have met your daddy too. You look like him, huh?”

  “I do.” He scowled. “I’ll go unpack and all. You’ll have something for me in an hour?” He raised that one eyebrow again.

  “I’m sure he will. Mason is a miracle worker, I swear to God. Come on with me, sir. I haven’t been to Dallas in a dog’s age. Has it changed a lot?” Stoney got him moving, and he had to admit, the easy voice didn’t sound in the least bit strained or worried, and that soothed him some.

  “It’s gotten far busier, I imagine.” He was already thinking ahead about calling Maydell and maybe even Sammy. Hadn’t she raved about this place’s website?

  “Lord, hasn’t everywhere? I went down to Denver the other day with my husband, and I swear to God, it felt like they were living twenty times faster than I am.” Stoney handed over what looked like an old-fashioned key. “So, this is the key. It’ll get you into the main house area, your cabin, and the main wedding area. There’s a website on the tag—just follow the directions, and you can turn the AC on with your phone before you get in, the lights, order food from the kitchen, what have you.” Stoney dangled the key in front of the keypad, and the door unlocked. “It’ll work if you keep it in your pants too.”

  He hooted, surprised into the sound. “I try to keep it in my pants whenever possible.”

  “Good plan. I don’t have that problem. Mine’s taken.” Stoney laughed, the sound wild, tickled as hell.

  “So I hear.” He liked Stoney, damn it. Noah grinned. “I got some calls to make and such. In about an hour, Mr. O’Reilly is meant to give me a tour.”

  “Good deal. You come up to the kitchen when you’re ready. Geoff is making ice cream, and he wants opinions. I’ll have Mason meet you there.” Stoney held out one hand. “Don’t you worry. This wedding is fixin’ to be epic. I swear it.”

  “Thanks.” That was, at least, not blowing smoke up his ass. He shook hands, then tried the key thing on his cabin.

  Worked like a charm. He sure hoped that was a sign.

  If it wasn’t, he was going to tear O’Reilly a new asshole.

  With his teeth.

  Chapter 4

  “W hat the fuck happened, man?” He was going to kill Trev. Dead. “How did we not know this?”

  “I swear to you, boss. That woman never—never once—said Samantha. She even talked about the rainbows on the website, boss. Of course she knew!”

  “I want you to comb every email and contract we did with these people. Make sure there’s nothing, nothing , they can get us on. That’s in your copious spare time. In your work time, I need a bridal bouquet in yellow roses and a central sunflower, along with some bluebonnets if you can get them.”

  “But—”

  “Now.” He hung up the phone and called the Roaring Fork Bakery. “Caroline, we have an emergency.”

  It took five minutes to switch the two grooms topper, to add a metric fuckton of sunflowers and lace to the cake, and to make it a single, less gay-porny groom’s cake.

  He needed to make a checklist. He turned in a circle, trying to remember where his laptop was. Ford came running in. “Cabins! Tell me what to do for the bride.”

  “Get rid of the Mr. and Mr. pillows. We need to make sure the toiletries are appropriate. Check the cornhole games.” He closed his eyes and breathed. “How the fuck did this happen?” How had he gotten into this? Why the hell did he let the Texan get under his skin?

  Mason was a professional. He’d had way worse. Way. There was that time he’d had a wedding planned at the Strater in Durango and the elevator went out. Or the family reunion of sweet, very elderly born-again Christians he’d had planned for six months when the hotel event manager rented the rest of the building to a BDSM convention….

  It was that hand on his arm, like he could be manhandled, like this was his fault and he could be pushed into panic. Fucker.

  He took one deep breath, then another. Ford was still there. “I can work on the bridesmaids’ and groomsmen’s stuff. You get the bridal cabin. I need about a hundred yards of rose yellow tulle. Can someone call that fabric shop in Glenwood?”

  “On it. Can your assistant drive out there?”

  “If he can’t, he won’t be my assistant by 5:00 p.m. He is currently on the top of my shit list.”

  “I’m sorry, man.” Ford squeezed his shoulder. “I got my phone. Call me if you need me before I come back up.”

  “I’m going to let Stoney deal with Wright. He’s good at it.”

  “Good deal.” Ford’s laughter trailed back at him. “I always let Stoney deal with the Texans.”

  “Right on.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. This is your fuckup. You deal with me. I like Stoney.” Tall, Dark, and Asshole stood there in the doorway like he was made to be there. “I want a sitrep. Now.”

  Mason took a step back, putting space between him and Noah Wright. “I am a professional, Mr. Wright, and I will be treated as such. I apologize for the error, but I am in the process of dealing with every detail.” He fought the urge to cross his arms.

  “Well, then, you can explain to me what you’re doing. Easy peasy.”

  “Right now I’m going to make a phone call to a fabric store in Glenwood, if you’ll excuse me for two minutes.” The bastard had given him an hour, for fuck’s sake. He had seven minutes left.

  “Sure. I’ll take a cup of something. The kitchen is that way?”

  “It is. Geoff is making ice cream.” He tapped his headphone and called the fabric shop, made that order, then called Trev to get him moving. “They’re going to have tulle, lace, and a bunch of silk flowers. Grab it and get it here, ASAP.”

  “I will. I’ll be there in a few hours.” Trev sounded reasonably cowed.

  “Make it an hour and a half, tops.”

  “Boss.”

  “Now!” he snapped. Where the hell was his tablet?

  Stoney came in, reaching out to squeeze his arm gently. “Breathe, man. Breathe.”

  “What the hell happened here, Stoney?” This was supposed to be his big break. He hadn’t fucked up a little bit. This was huge.

  “How bad is it, man? Seriously. We’re fixing the cornhole boards, the cake and flowers are on line, the cabins just need a little girl-i-fying and adjusting. What do you think? The big cabin with the little conference room cleaned out for the bride and her girls, put them in the cabins clustered around her, and then put the guys in the rustic chic things in the back?”

  “Can you get a couple of couches moved into that conference room?” If they pushed the tables back along the walls and draped the shit out of everything….

  “I can move heaven and earth in four days. We got this. This feller just set you off. He needs to bluster, and you need to have an answer for every question instead of just saying you’re on it. That’s all.”