Okay, so it had been only a few weeks, but when Cole had been on active duty in the Marine Corps, he was used to getting a high and tight every ten days. Zach whistled and replied, “It sure seemed like you had all the time in the world when you wouldn’t let go of that pretty wedding planner’s hand a few minutes ago.”
Cole folded his arms over his chest, knowing his brother was just trying to rile him up. All the Dalton boys enjoyed going back and forth with each other like that. But the defensive stance also helped hide the way he was flexing his right hand, which still tingled from the softness of Vivienne’s palm fitting so perfectly inside it.
Cole nodded toward the building’s entrance. “I was just caught off guard by all the froufrou decorations in that war zone they call an office.”
“War zone?” his brother repeated, his brow arched. “Froufrou?”
“It looked like someone crashed a Humvee full of roses into a lace factory. I mean, how many pictures of fancy white dresses and champagne glasses do they need in that place? It’s like a single man’s kryptonite inside of there, sucking out all masculine logic and rationale. You’re lucky I was able to break you out when I did.”
“I can’t disagree with you on that, although I was surprised you were able to notice anything else in the room besides Vivienne.” Zach grinned, then held up a hand when Cole began to argue. “As much as I’d love to stand out here in the parking lot and listen to you try to deny it, I need to go back inside, since I promised Lydia I wouldn’t make her do all of this wedding planning alone.”
“Fine. I’ll take your truck over to the gas station up the street and fill the tires while you finish.” Cole held out his palm and waited for Zach to toss him the keys.
“Thanks, man.”
A few seconds later, Cole yelled across the parking lot to his brother’s retreating back. “I’ll leave them under the floor mat when I’m done.”
Because he sure as hell wasn’t going back inside that bridal shop and dealing with his unexpected attraction to some fancy—but totally unnecessary—wedding planner. Cole shook his head as he hopped into the cab of Zach’s truck and started the engine. Some sappy love song blasted out of the speakers and his finger dived toward the radio to switch off the country music station.
Yet he couldn’t get the image of the blonde woman out of his mind. Her hair had been pulled back into some kind of loose ponytail, but he could tell it was long and wavy and soft. Her white button-up shirt was all business, and even her navy blue pin-striped skirt was relatively professional, except for the fact that when she’d stood up to greet him, she’d had to tug the hem down. But not before he’d caught a glimpse of a dark brown freckle on the inside of her thigh.
Her lips were soft and pink and her eyes were a fascinating shade of green. She was on the taller side, maybe five-nine. He hadn’t seen if she was wearing high heels or not, but cool and classy ladies like that usually wore fancy, useless shoes. However, all of those details were slow to register with him because when he’d been shaking her hand, Cole hadn’t been able to think of anything but that sexy little freckle.
He turned into the gas station and pulled the truck up to the air hose before squeezing his eyes shut and trying to clear his head. It wasn’t like Vivienne Shuster was the first good-looking woman Cole had ever met. He’d been in the Marines, stationed all over the United States, as well as a few bases overseas, and had always known where he could find a date on the few times he’d gone looking for a fun time.
So then why had his muscles gone all soft and his brain turned to mush when he’d met her?
Unlike his brother Zach, who’d actually placed an ad in the newspaper looking for a wife, relationships weren’t exactly on Cole’s radar at this juncture. Hell, they weren’t even in his atmosphere.
Sure, once upon a time, he’d pictured himself moving back to Montana eventually and settling down with a wife and possibly having some kids of his own. But ever since his mom passed away, Cole had realized there were no absolutes in life. There was no point in planning that far into the future. Right now, his dad needed him. The property they’d been interested in buying fell through and, while they weren’t exactly wearing out their welcome at the Circle D with his aunt and uncle, they still had to help their dad find a new ranch and get it running. Phil Dalton deserved to have a working place of his own, a place he could share with his sons. Yet Cole also owed it to his family to keep things as normal as possible, to prevent them from realizing how much responsibility he was shouldering.
So, yeah, he let his relatives think that he was in the market for the occasional date. He’d even gone out with a few women back when his cousin was filming that reality TV show in town. But Cole was always sure to flirt only with the ladies who didn’t take him seriously. He certainly didn’t react to them the way he’d responded to Vivienne.
But that was just a one-off. Surrounded by all that happily-ever-after propaganda and poster-sized images of wedded bliss back in her office—even for the few minutes he was exposed to it—who wouldn’t have gotten overwhelmed and panicked? He’d been all fired up when he’d walked into her bridal shop, his worry and annoyance with Zach having snowballed during the twenty-minute drive there from Rust Creek Falls. Then, when he got inside, he was so out of his comfort zone he’d felt like one of those green plastic army toys thrown into a frilly, decked-out dollhouse. He’d had to do a complete one-eighty and rein himself in.
Cursing under his breath at his ridiculous reaction to the whole situation, Cole made quick work of the tires, using a pressure gauge he’d brought along with him to ensure that he didn’t overinflate them. The sooner he returned the truck to the parking lot, the sooner he could get back to his aunt and uncle’s ranch and let some much-needed manual labor push these fanciful notions from his mind.
Unfortunately, when he pulled into the parking lot of the tiny strip mall that housed Estelle’s Events, his brother and Lydia were standing outside waiting for him.
Along with the wedding planner.
When Cole exited the truck, his eyes had a mind of their own and kept returning to that spot on Vivienne’s skirt, hoping for another glimpse of her hidden freckle.
Since he couldn’t very well pitch his brother’s keys over the hood and beat a hasty retreat to his own truck, he was stuck with having to walk over to the trio. The smug grin on Zach’s face reminded Cole of the time he’d lost a hay-bale-stacking race with his younger brother and had to volunteer to be on the prom committee at their small, rural high school. Although, the joke ended up being on Zach when Rondalee Franks—a senior on the cheerleading team who’d been in charge of decorating the gymnasium—asked Cole, a mere sophomore, to be her date. It wasn’t his fault that the ladies loved a man who was always willing to help out.
The professional wedding planner, whose back was ramrod straight despite the uncomfortable-looking four-inch-high heels on her feet, had a death grip on a thick three-ring binder and didn’t appear to be the type who needed assistance from anyone, let alone a former Marine-turned-rancher like him.
Cole knew that he should offer to shake Vivienne’s hand goodbye, if only to prove to his brother—and himself—that his initial physical response to her was nothing out of the ordinary. Instead, he came only close enough to toss the keys to Zach. When a late-model purple Cadillac sedan pulled into the parking lot, he tipped his hat and simply said, “Ma’am.”
Then he climbed into his own truck and refused to look back.
