Chapter One
The limo turned onto the dirt road and under the archway of the Triple T ranch.
“What do ya think, baby?” Elaine asked.
Dean scooted forward to see through the front windshield. “Wow.”
With a huge red barn and corral to one side and a row of small cabins to the other, the log house at the end of the lengthy driveway looked to have been plucked from another century. One with a detached three-car garage and a satellite dish.
Dean pointed to the hillsides around them. "Look at all the horses."
"It's a horse ranch, honey. We have horses."
He sneered at his fiancé. "If I can deal with your sudden accent, you can overlook my ignorance."
"I told you. It's not sudden. I just hid it in New York."
"I understand."
Elaine latched onto Dean's arm. "Do you like it?"
"I love it. I didn't know Texas could be so green."
"Not Texas, baby. My accent."
"Oh." He shrugged. "It's okay."
"Just okay?"
"Yeah. You know..."
Elaine pouted in a way he hadn't seen before.
He kissed her on the forehead. "I'll get used to it."
"Good."
Dean gazed out the window. He was in awe of the openness of it all. Elaine's childhood home was breathtaking. He wondered why they hadn't visited sooner. "You're not going to talk like that when we get home, are you?"
"Oh, you." Elaine playfully smacked his arm and scooted away.
"I'm kidding. I'm kidding."
Aside from a Texas accent popping out Elaine's mouth the moment they stepped off the plane, her need to cling was off the charts. She practically hung on him in the airport. He was afraid to use the restroom, thinking she'd follow him in.
Dean wasn't opposed to showing affection, but the most they'd done in public was hold hands. He assumed Elaine's personality changes were a result of wedding jitters. He saw no reason to object; not of her nor where she chose to have their wedding. If only for the beauty of it, he was glad they came to Texas. From the looks of the giant standing on the front porch, Dean wished he'd never left New York. "Who is that?"
"That's Daddy. And, that's Jimmy next to him. He's the ranch foreman."
Dean didn't hear much beyond 'daddy'. "That's Buck?"
Elaine mentioned her father was a big man. Not a seven-foot cowboy who looked strong enough to take on a grizzly. Buck was in good shape for a man in his sixties. His pronounced chin might not have looked odd if his head weren’t so square. Or maybe it was the scowl on his face.
"He doesn't look happy," Dean said.
"Nonsense. He always looks like that."
The driver rounded the fountain in the middle of the circular driveway and came to a stop near the front steps.
Elaine hopped out. "Daddy!"
Buck smiled. "There's my baby girl."
She trotted up the stairs and jumped into her father’s arms.
Dean slid out of the car. Seeing Elaine with her father was touching. The size difference between Buck and his petite daughter was almost comical. Dean gazed at the rose bushes lining the porch that ran the length of the house. Their scent made the lung-roasting heat almost bearable.
"I missed you so much, Daddy." She repeatedly kissed his cheek as the big man laughed.
Dean made his way up the steps. He nodded to Jimmy; who returned the gesture in kind.
Buck set Elaine back on her feet. "I think you've gotten prettier since the last time I saw you." He looked at Dean; not a trace of a smile on his face. "Which has been too damned long."
Being six foot three, there weren’t too many people Dean had to look up to. Buck Tucker was one of them. He reached out his hand. "It's nice—"
Elaine collided with his arm when she rushed to swallow Jimmy in a tight hug.
Dean clasped his hands behind himself, worried he'd interfered with some Texas greeting ritual.
“Jimmy. Jimmy. Jimmy. Jimmy. Jimmy.”
The foreman held his cowboy hat on his head to keep Elaine from knocking it off. “That’s enough, girl. You’ll get your dress all dirty.” He gave her a one-arm squeeze before aiming her toward her father.
Latched onto Buck, Elaine held her hand out to Dean. “Daddy, this is my future husband, Dean Marshall.”
Queue the handshake. “Mr. Tucker, it's nice to finally meet you face-to-face.”
Buck glanced at Dean’s hand. “You got some reason for keepin’ my little girl chained up in that city? You ever heard of frequent-flier miles, boy?” Buck took Dean’s hand and squeezed hard.
If Dean were a weaker man, it might have hurt. The last thing he wanted to do was arm wrestle with Elaine’s dad, so he held his composure until the man let go.
Elaine stepped away from her father and wrapped her arms around Dean’s waist. “Dean is a very busy man, Daddy, and I like New York. Besides, my baby takes great care of me.”
Dean draped his arm over her shoulder to give her the P.D.A. she seemed to want so badly. "If you'd like to visit, our door is always open."
“New York is no place for me or my little girl.” Buck looked Dean up and down. “Full of nothing but drug addicts and lowlifes if you ask me.”
"Quit talkin' out your ass," Jimmy said. "We got things to do."
The front door opened at the same time Buck started to say something Dean probably wouldn't like.
Elaine flew off him and into the arms of three very attractive – and loud – women. The air filled with squeals and high-pitched screeches. They hugged, kissed each other's cheeks, and hopped up and down like rabbits.
Dean's eyes widened. He focused on Elaine’s mousy-brown ponytail bouncing around, with the hopes that her sudden attention-grabbing behavior was wedding jitters too.
The women spoke over each other at record speed. Dean caught a couple of “oh, my God,” a few “you look hot, girl,” and a slew of “tell me this” and “tell me that”. Otherwise, it was a foreign language made even more confusing by four of the thickest Texas accents he’d ever heard.
Dean smiled and prepared himself to meet those he assumed were Elaine’s bridesmaids. Please, let handshakes and not hugs be the proper etiquette.
As quickly as they showed up, the women scurried into the house, all fighting for a look at the rock on Elaine’s finger.
Buck tossed Dean a key attached to a thick piece of wood. "You're in cabin five." He stepped into the house and slammed the door behind him.
Dean glanced at the key, and then the door a few times. He looked at Jimmy. "I'm in what?"
"Don't try to make sense of it, you'll go bald." Jimmy tipped his hat back. “The name’s Jimmy.”
Dean shook his outstretched hand. “Dean Marshall.”
“So I heard. You need help with your bag?”
Dean swiveled to see his suitcase sitting by itself on the white stones where the now-missing limo had been. “Uh. Elaine had—"
"They're already in the house."
"Oh." Dean looked all around him but there wasn't a soul in sight.
Jimmy pointed to the side of the house. "They went that way."
"I see."
"You gotta be quick if you want to survive around here." Jimmy's calm demeanor and slow drawl wasn't insulting, merely informative.
Dean smiled. "I think I can handle it."
"Follow me." Jimmy ambled down the steps.
Dean grabbed his bag and accompanied the old cowboy along the stone walkway.
Jimmy moved the same way he talked; in no great hurry.
They stopped in front of the farthest cabin from King Buck's castle.
"There she is," Jimmy said. “Dinner's at seven. Don't be late.”
"I won't."
Jimmy walked away.
"If they let me in the door," Dean mumbled.
"Ya never know."
Jimmy hearing him wasn't surprising. Dean didn't think much got past that man.
Dean's thoughts wandered as he watched a group of horses trotting across the hill. The mild-mannered secretary he was going to marry had morphed into a country diva. His future father-in-law was five seconds from shooting him in the back. His lungs were close to spontaneous combustion. His Ermenegildo Zegna suit was soaked with sweat, and he was stuck in, of all places – Texas. "Wonderful."
Dean stepped into the cozy little cabin. There was a large window by the front door. The two double beds with thick log headboards looked comfortable. The little table and chair set appeared to be handmade. The same Native American print covered the bedding, curtains, and the throw rug between him and the bathroom.
Dean dropped his suitcase on the nearest bed and peeled off his jacket. It wasn't as hot as outside, but he was going to melt if he didn’t cool down. He headed for the air conditioner under the small window between the beds.
He unbuttoned his shirt with one hand and hit the switch on the big metal box with the other. Nothing happened. He pressed all the buttons and turned the dials before he grabbed the cord hanging from the side. He held it up and stared at the neatly cut wires that ensured he’d be sweating bullets all week. “Wonderful.”
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