The Cowboy's Holiday Bride
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Cathy McDavid
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17
CHAPTER ONE
NO ONE IN their right mind climbed a fifteen-foot extension ladder in flaming red three-inch heels—which, in Cash Montgomery’s mind, explained a lot.
He strode through the barn’s wide entrance, removing his denim jacket first, then his Stetson, and tossing both onto the nearest table. While bare now, it would soon be sheathed in a linen tablecloth, set with fine china and silver flatware, and surrounded by happy guests. That was, if Phoebe Kellerman didn’t accidentally kill herself first and cause the wedding to be canceled.
Reaching the foot of the ladder, Cash’s gaze traveled up to the top rung, where Phoebe stood attempting to hang a Christmas wreath the size of a tractor tire on the wall.
He should have been glad she’d worn pants today rather than those silly little skirts she tended to favor—not that he noticed her clothes. Much. Her legs, however, were an entirely different matter. Cash was human, after all, and Phoebe had what his late grandfather used to call spectacular gams.
“You’re not wearing appropriate footwear to be on a ladder,” he called, his voice echoing off the walls in the enormous empty space. “You could hurt yourself, and we can’t afford an increase to our workman’s comp premium. Or the cost of hiring your replacement while you’re at home recovering.”
Even at that height and while wrangling a heavy load, she managed to crank her head around and fire a laser stare down at him. “Your concern is touching.”
“How much did that behemoth cost?”
“The invoice is on your desk.”
“Am I going to be unhappy?” he asked.
“When aren’t you unhappy?”
Grumbling under his breath, he gripped the base of the ladder with both hands and steadied it. What had made her think she could manage a clearly two-person task all by her lonesome?
“Get down from there. Let me do it.”
Her answer was to draw back slightly and examine the wreath.
His blood pressure spiked. “For Pete’s sake, Phoebe. Hold on, will you?”
Sighing, she obliged him. “Do me a favor. Go to the middle of the room and tell me if this thing is centered and hanging straight.”
“Promise not to let go.”
“I’d cross my heart, but I’d have to use my hand.”
Against his better judgment, he did as she requested—only because he’d learned long ago that arguing with her was a waste of time. They’d been picking fights with each other since grade school. For over twenty years, she’d been underfoot, in the way and a thorn in his side. Initially because she and his younger sister, Laurel, were best friends and these last two years because she, Laurel and Cash were in business together.
On second thought, maybe Phoebe wasn’t the only one lacking common sense. Cash, apparently, suffered from the same affliction.
Except, no denying it, she was the best wedding coordinator in Payson and one of the best in the state. Without her, Wishing Well Springs wouldn’t have been recently ranked ninth on a list of Arizona’s top ten wedding venues. Cash had to admit, he and his sister were lucky to have Phoebe—even if she did irritate the heck out of him on a regular basis.
Reaching midroom, he turned and evaluated her handiwork. “It’s straight.”
“You sure?”
What did he know? “Straight enough.”
“The Pendergrass-Sloans are paying top dollar for this wedding. They expect perfection.”
“It’s a wreath. I doubt the placement will have any effect on the wedding’s perfection or the couple’s fifty-fifty chance of not divorcing.”
“Ha. For someone in the business of happily-ever-after, you have a pretty negative attitude.”
“Comes with the territory,” he said dryly.
“Right. I forgot for a second.”
She sent him a glance that managed to be both guilty and amused before turning back to the wreath. She was well acquainted with Cash’s history and knew he preferred not to talk about his three failed engagements.
“Hey, I booked a holiday family reunion this morning,” she said in that effervescent way of hers. “For the week of Christmas. That’s twenty-eight total weddings and events between today and New Year’s. Nearly one every day of the month.”
“Cha-ching!”
She rolled her eyes. “I swear, Cash. You’re hopeless. Wishing Well Springs isn’t just about the bottom line. We bring people together and make their dreams come true.”
“Hmm.” He ignored her in favor of running numbers in his head.
“I recognize that tone. You’re already spending the profits.”
“Right again.”
Twenty-eight weddings and events, Cash mused. More than double the number they’d had last December. And with their planned mock Western town expansion, they’d increase that number next year.
It was almost enough to dim the painful memory of his family losing the ranch and going bankrupt.
Phoebe tilted the wreath a few inches to the right, the movement causing her long curtain of pale blond hair to resettle between her slim shoulders. “How about now?” she asked.
“Looks great to me. The wreath,” he clarified.
“You sure? You don’t want me to have to climb up here again, do you?”
She was smiling; he could hear the mirth in her voice. Darned if she wasn’t an expert at jerking his chain.
“It’s fine.” He started back across the room toward the ladder. “Now get down from there before you break your scrawny neck. I mean it, Phoebe.”
She fiddled with the wreath for another minute before gingerly climbing down the ladder. Cash waited at the bottom, steadying it. With each step, her bright red high heels drew nearer and nearer until they were at Cash’s eye level.
“Are those bells?” he asked.
“Cute, huh?” A delicate silver chain circled her right ankle from which hung a pair of matching bells that jingled softly with each movement. “My sister gave them to me.”
Cash didn’t ask which sister. She had four; all of them older than Phoebe and carbon copies of each other. From the time they were young, the Kellerman girls had been a force to be reckoned with, and he’d diligently avoided them. Nowadays, unfortunately, that proved impossible.
Phoebe’s parents owned and managed Joshua Tree Inn, which, besides their four-star accommodations, offered one of the best dining experiences in Payson. They frequently catered wedding receptions at Wishing Well Springs, and the two neighboring enterprises enjoyed a mutually beneficial relationship, regularly referring customers to each other.
All the Kellerman sisters, save Phoebe, worked for Joshua Tree Inn and showed up regularly at the weddings they catered. Cash could only tolerate them in small doses. Just like Phoebe.
He let go of the ladder and retreated, giving her room as she descended the remaining rungs. Reaching the floor, she pivoted, a bright, happy smile on her face—which was a mere four inches from his. How had that happened? And when had he started noticing every tiny detail about her?
Taking another backward step, he studied what had to be the newest addition to her ugly sweater collection: a Christmas tree decorated with cat-head ornaments.
“Tell me you’re not wearing that to work,” he said.
“The clients love my sweaters.”
They loved her. Unlike Cash, she related well with people and developed instant rapports. That was why he much preferred being the long-distance member of their partnership.
Once or twice each month, he traveled from Phoenix, where he worked as a project architect at Strategic Design, and spent the weekend in Payson. Cloud file sharing and video meetings allowed him to easily handle the majority of his duties as Wishing Well Springs’ chief financial officer from afar.
Usually. Thanks to his sister, Laurel, and her pending trip to Palm Springs, that arrangement was temporarily changing as of today.
“You’re here early,” Phoebe commented as they left the barn together, Cash retrieving his denim jacket and cowboy hat on the way. “It’s barely ten o’clock.”
“I wanted to make a few sketches before heading to the house.”
“New idea?”
He was constantly revising the drawings for their Western town expansion. “Been thinking about adding a bank.”
“I love it.” Phoebe quickened her already clipped pace. “Imagine the fun photo ops. The bride holding up her banker dad for money to pay for the wedding—” She stopped short. “Okay, maybe that last part’s not such a good idea. But the bank is wonderful. I approve. It should go between the general store and the livery stable. Leave the sheriff’s office-slash-jail on the end.”
Cash started to say something about running the numbers first only to change his mind. “You’re right.”
“Did we really just agree for once?” Phoebe gawked at him in mock alarm. “And thunderbolts didn’t appear out of nowhere to strike us down?”
“Not yet.” He grinned and peered at the sky.
Rather than any sign of a storm, bright sunlight ducked in and out of picture-postcard billowy clouds. Cash had a habit of checking the local Payson weather every day, even when in Phoenix. Rain, wind and occasional snow wreaked havoc with weddings and events and ran the staff ragged executing a plan B.
“Did you notice the well?” Phoebe asked.
He hadn’t and looked now. “You put a wreath on it. And a red bow on the bucket.”
She gazed admiringly at her work. “I’m going to create a holiday spectacle. Lights. Garland. Animated figurines. Paper lanterns. No, luminaries.”
“We talked about this.”
“I promise not to blow the budget.”
Cash hated being the scrooge in their partnership, but one of them had to maintain a close watch on the finances. It wasn’t that Phoebe had no concept of money. Rather, her priorities were different. She believed in sparing no expense, whereas Cash watched every penny.
“If we’re not careful,” he said, “we’ll run out of money halfway through our expansion.”
“I get that you’re not a fan of borrowing money, but companies take out loans all the time. My parents did to start the catering operation, and they increased profits enough to pay off the loan early.”
“Overextending is what bankrupted my family and forced Grandpa to sell off the ranch.”
“With a loan, we could finish the expansion early and do some other improvements around the place.”
“No.”
“Interest rates are down.”
“Phoebe.”
“All right, all right. It was just a suggestion.” She must have accepted she’d hit a brick wall, for she changed the subject. “We really need to showcase the well more for the holidays. It’s key to our marketing campaign, not to mention the history behind it.”
She was right about that.
The original well, dug by Cash’s great-grandfather, had been nothing more than a hand pump mounted on a pipe driven four-hundred feet straight down to the exact spot where the property’s two subterranean springs converged. Cash had decided to construct a fieldstone well complete with a shingled peaked roof and bucket and pulley system.
Everyone who visited the barn raved about the well, and many tossed in a coin. A wire net suspended beneath the water’s surface collected the coins, which, as the posted sign announced, were collected twice a year and donated to a local charity.
“What are you thinking?” Cash asked.
“Off the top of my head, stack a bunch of fake wrapped presents in front of it.”
He kicked at the dry ground. “They’ll get dirty. And what if it rains or snows?”
“Killjoy,” Phoebe muttered.
“Just being practical.”
“Like always.”
“How about I drag that old pony sleigh out of storage from above the carriage house? You can sit it next to the well and decorate it with... I don’t know what.”
She instantly brightened. “Mr. and Mrs. Inflatable Santa Claus! Like they’re riding in the sleigh. And those lighted reindeer could be pulling it. Oh, Cash. That’s perfect!”
What had he gotten himself into?
“But will you have time?” she asked. “We’re really slammed this weekend. Three weddings, remember?”
“I will on Monday.”
“You’re staying longer?”
Too late, Cash realized his mistake. “Actually, I’m—”
He was spared having to explain by the arrival of a white panel van that pulled up beside the golf cart. The van’s side door slid open with a whoosh, causing half of Wishing Well Springs’ logo, their phone number and slogan—We Make Your Wishes Come True—to disappear. Three workers piled out, along with the driver. Each was dressed in jeans and a gold sweatshirt, on the back of which was printed the same logo, phone number and slogan as on the van.
Waving and hollering greetings, the workers immediately started unloading crates, boxes and cases onto a pair of handcarts. Before long, the barn would be ready for the Pendergrass-Sloan 4:00 p.m. wedding.
Assuming Phoebe would be overseeing the crew, and eager to execute a hasty retreat, Cash excused himself to start on his sketches. “See you at the office.”
“Don’t go yet.” She hooked him by the elbow, her grasp firm yet gentle. Was that even possible?
He stared at her fingers on his jacket sleeve and found himself wondering how they’d feel on his bare skin.
The next second Cash came to his senses. He and Phoebe had long shared a mild attraction, true. But they couldn’t spend ten consecutive minutes together without disagreeing about something. Usually money.
“What?” he asked, striving to keep his tone neutral.
“You didn’t finish earlier.” She studied him expectantly, her hazel eyes searching. “I asked if you were staying longer.”
Cash cleared his throat and silently cursed himself. He’d hoped to postpone this conversation until he and his sister were both free to talk to Phoebe.
“Is something going on?”
Left with no choice, he admitted, “Um, actually, I’ll be here for the next three weeks. I’m covering for Laurel while she’s in Palm Springs,” he finished with less conviction than he would have liked.
“You’re covering for your sister,” Phoebe repeated slowly.
“Yeah. We—you and I—are going to be working together. Well, more than we usually do.” He produced what he hoped passed for an affable smile. “I’m your new able-bodied assistant.”
“You’re...joking.”
“Afraid not.”
Gone was the perpetual twinkle in her eyes and the upward tilt of her Cupid’s-bow mouth. “We agreed to bring Georgia Ann on full-time to help me while Laurel’s gone.” Her glance cut to the crew unloading the van and the lone gray-haired woman.
“We were considering bringing on Georgia Ann. The fact is, we don’t have any extra money in the budget. Not if we want to start construction for the expansion on schedule. You read last month’s financial reports.” Cash tamped down his impatience. He’d explained this to Phoebe before. “As least, I assume you did.”
“What about your job at Strategic Design?”
“I have enough accrued vacation days.”
She stood there, tapping the toe of one red shoe, her hands crossed over her middle. “Nope. Won’t work. We have to figure out another solution. Find the money for Georgia Ann’s wages somewhere else in the budget. Move a few line items around.”
“I’m sorry you found out this way, Phoebe, but the decision’s made. Laurel and I were planning on telling you together.”
“Without me being consulted?”
“The vote would have been two to one even if we had.”
Her features hardened. “That doesn’t give you the right to cut me out. I’m a partner. An equal one. Not merely an employee.”
And here, he thought, was the real reason for her anger. He and his sister had unfairly excluded her.
Before Phoebe could justifiably lay into him, Georgia Ann called out with an urgent, “Hey, we have a problem.”
“We’ll talk more later,” Cash said.
“We most certainly will.” Phoebe spun on her heels and stormed off.
He watched her go, his thoughts less on his sketches and more on the next three weeks, which, no thanks to him, were off to a lousy start.
PHOEBE STUDIED THE wooden floor where the shattered crystal candleholder lay. Each of the hundred glittering slivers was a perfect reflection of her current emotional state in the wake of Cash’s announcement: jagged and sharp and disconnected.
It wasn’t that he, and not Georgia Ann, would be...what had Cash said? Her new able-bodied assistant. Phoebe would survive, frustrating and nerve-racking as the arrangement was bound to be. No, what bothered her most was being cut out of the decision process entirely.
Granted, Cash and Laurel owned the property. The main house, wedding barn, carriage house and twelve acres were all that remained of the once thriving and sprawling quarter horse ranch that had been left to them by their late grandfather. And Laurel’s custom wedding dress boutique was hers and hers alone. But the business side of Wishing Well Springs was an equal three-way partnership. Phoebe deserved to be included regardless of whether Cash and his sister had planned all along on sticking together.
She rolled her shoulders in an attempt to shed her annoyance. To be fair, Phoebe and Laurel usually sided against Cash. But they included him in their discussions. There was a big difference.
“Chicken,” she murmured under her breath, convinced he’d chosen to avoid what would doubtless be a heated debate.
“What’d you say?” Georgia Ann asked. She stood across from Phoebe on the other side of the shattered candleholder, fretting and fussing.
“Nothing.”
“I don’t know what happened. The darn thing just slipped from my fingers. I know the bride was very specific about having holiday candlesticks, and this was our only pair.”
An oversight Phoebe would soon correct. “Don’t worry. Accidents happen.”
“I’ll be glad to explain the situation to her and take full responsibility.”
There was no hint of insincerity in Georgia Ann’s voice, another reason why the two of them got along so well. Both were convinced that the couple’s wishes, regardless how unusual or outrageous or costly, were important and deserved to be honored to the best of Wishing Well Springs’ abilities. If the bride wanted holiday holders for the unity candles, she’d get holiday holders for the unity candles.
“Hang on.” Phoebe lifted her ever-present phone dangling from a lanyard around her neck and speed-dialed her sister Trudy, head of catering at her family’s inn.
“Hey, sis.” Phoebe called all her older siblings by the same endearment. With four of them, it made things simpler.
“If you’re worried about the lobster crepes, don’t be. Everything’s under control, and we’ll be there by three sharp.”
“I’m not worried. We have another problem.” She explained about the shattered holiday candleholder. “Can you bring that pair from the front window when you come?”
“Mom won’t be happy.”
“Don’t tell her.”
“She’ll notice. She doesn’t miss a thing.”
Phoebe sighed. “Please. I’ll have Georgia Ann drive them back over as soon as the bride and groom walk down the aisle.”
Beside her, Georgia Ann nodded vigorously. She’d fetched a broom and dustpan and had swept the crystal shards into a tidy pile.
“Fine, fine,” Trudy grumbled.
Phoebe swore she could hear her sister’s eye roll through the phone. “Thanks. I owe you.”
“I’ll trade you for babysitting.”
“Done.”
Trudy was six months along with her first child and their parents’ seventh grandchild. Phoebe remained the sole offspring not married and not producing future generations—a fact that was brought to her attention on a regular basis. Not in a you’re-a-disappointment way but in a we-just-want-you-to-be-happy way.
Had things gone differently, she’d be celebrating her third anniversary this spring and bouncing one or even two babies on her knee. But it wasn’t meant to be, and the enthusiasm she’d once poured into making her own wedding plans come true she now poured into others’.
“Cash arrived earlier than usual. I saw his pickup drive past.”
Trudy’s comment shook Phoebe from her mental wanderings. “He did.”
“What’s wrong, sweetie?”
It was just like her sister, any of her sisters, to correctly guess Phoebe’s mood after hearing only a few syllables. “He’s not just here for the weekend. He’s staying for three weeks. The entire time Laurel’s in Palm Springs with her VIP client.”
“The wealthy art gallery owner?”
“Yeah. That one.”
“Ooh. Really?”
“What does that mean?” Phoebe was less adept than her sister at interpreting tones and inflections.
“Just that... Well, come on. You. And Cash. Together...”
“So what?” Don’t say it. Please.
“You...like him—”
“I do not,” Phoebe insisted with enough vehemence that Georgia Ann sent her a curious look.
“You always have.” Trudy was either mixing batter or running a blender, for a whirring sound filled the background. “Since you were kids.”
“I had a crush on him for maybe two months in high school.”
“Oh puhleeze.”
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” Neither was she giving herself away to her astute sister.
Phoebe had harbored a crush on Cash for a lot longer than two months or even two years. But he’d barely noticed his younger sister’s best friend except to demand she make herself scarce. She’d hung on arena fences, gawking, when he’d competed in junior rodeo, and bought tickets to see him compete professionally during his college days.
She’d visited him in the hospital when he blew out his shoulder bulldogging at the National Finals Rodeo, attended his graduation from Arizona State University, had lunch with him during her periodic excursions to Phoenix, followed his career at Strategic Design and kept up with the latest happenings in his life from his sister.
She’d secretly cried when, during his junior year at ASU, he’d gotten engaged for the first time. She’d emerged from the despair brought on by his second engagement vowing enough was enough and eagerly pursued the first man to glance twice in her direction—a mistake that had ultimately wasted the best part of her twenties and left her with nothing to show for it except a refusal to repeat past mistakes.
At least one big positive came out of it—she’d been too immersed in her own failed love life to feel much when she’d heard about Cash’s third engagement. Thankfully, she’d sufficiently recovered by the time Laurel’s idiot boyfriend dumped her, so she was able to be a supportive friend. Not long after Cash’s third fiancée bailed, he and Laurel converted their ramshackle house and falling-down barn into the present day Wishing Well Springs, bringing Phoebe in as a partner.
The irony didn’t escape her. One of the most popular wedding venues in Arizona was run by three people with a history of broken engagements and failed relationships. Go figure.
“Hey, I gotta run.” Trudy’s voice sounded muffled, as if she’d entered the walk-in cooler.
“Me, too. See you at three.”
Phoebe disconnected and assessed her surroundings. While she’d been on the phone, her crew had worked their magic and transformed the room into a winter wedding wonderland.
White wooden folding chairs were arranged in rows to resemble church pews, complete with an aisle down the middle. The chairs faced the rear of the barn, where an altar and lattice arch had been set up beneath the empty hay loft. Rather than storing sweet-smelling alfalfa and providing a playground where children’s imaginations could soar, the loft was now used for additional seating, overhead photography and filming, storage, a dance floor or, for one wedding, choir seating.
On the far wall, two of Phoebe’s workers were hanging red and green silk streamers that stretched out from the enormous wreath like long arms. Georgia Ann attached red and green bows to the backs of the chairs while the other two workers set up the tall space heaters.
“Everything looks great,” Phoebe called to Georgia Ann. “If you need me, I’ll be outside. I have another call to make.”
“Okeydokey.”
Phoebe walked and dialed at the same time. If not for being sidetracked by the broken candleholder and her sister, she’d have placed this call the second Cash was beyond earshot.
Laurel answered almost immediately, mumbling around the pins perpetually shoved in her mouth. “Hiya. What’s up? All set for the Pendergrass-Sloans?”
“Why didn’t you tell me Cash was covering for you while you’re gone?”
A long span of dead air followed. Phoebe pictured Laurel removing the pins from her mouth one by one as she considered what to say next. She had no less than three custom wedding dresses in development at any given time, each one in a different stage of production. “You heard.”
“Cash let it slip. I’m pretty sure unintentionally.”
“We were going to tell you together.”
“So he said.” Phoebe cleared her throat in an effort to erase the whine waiting to escape.
Laurel sighed. “We can’t afford to bring on Georgia Ann full-time. Temporarily or otherwise. I get that you and Cash don’t always agree and he isn’t your first choice for a helper. But the fact is, he’s capable, organized and won’t cost us any extra wages.”
“He’s not good with people.”
“He can be when he wants to.”
“He’s too serious,” Phoebe insisted. “Couples like over-the-top enthusiasm. Especially the brides. And he’s not sympathetic enough. Can you see him comforting a distressed bride or calming a nervous groom?”
“Actually, he’s a good listener.”
He was. Phoebe pushed aside a long-ago memory of Cash patiently sitting with her while she’d cried and lamented about her brutal breakup with her ex, Sam. She remembered wishing Sam had been half as good a listener as Cash.
“Not with strangers he isn’t.”
“Send him on errands,” Laurel said. “He excels at manual labor.”
“He’s bossy.”
“And you’re not?”
“Laurel.” The whine escaped and Phoebe clamped her mouth shut.
“We have two days to train him before I leave.”
“Is that enough? Excellent customer service is our trademark.”
“Be honest. What’s really bothering you?”
She stared at Cash, leaning against a pine tree in the empty field beside the barn, and frowned. “You two made a pretty big decision without including me.”
“I swear, it was last second,” Laurel insisted. “Cash came up with the idea and got approval for his vacation time without talking to either of us. He informed me literally an hour ago. We agreed to tell you after my appointment. I didn’t realize he was heading to the barn first. My bad.”
“He should have called us before putting anything in motion.”
“Him helping out isn’t a bad idea,” Laurel cajoled. “He does know the business and has a personal stake in things going well.”
“Says the person who’ll be gone and doesn’t have to work with him.”
“You’re right.”
“This isn’t how we agreed to run our partnership.” Phoebe pouted and then caught herself.
“I’ll have a chat with him later today.”
“Forget it. No big deal.” The last thing she wanted was for Cash to think she’d tattled on him. They weren’t kids anymore.
“No, it is a big deal,” Laurel insisted. “And it won’t happen again. I was wrong to go along with Cash when he called this morning.”
Phoebe blew out a long breath. What she’d wanted most was to be heard, and she had been. “Apology accepted.”
“Shoot. She’s early. See you later.”
Phoebe heard the distinctive chime of the front door in the background. Laurel’s appointment had arrived.
“I’ll be heading your way in a bit.”
“Again, hon, I’m sorry. Won’t happen again. I swear.”
Not intentionally, thought Phoebe, but it would happen. Blood was thicker than water. She and Laurel were close. Cash and Laurel were closer.
Losing pretty much everything save the shirts on your back either drove a wedge between people or strengthened their relationship. It had done both to the Montgomerys. A dynamite blast couldn’t sever Cash and Laurel’s bond, while their parents had divorced less than two years after filing for bankruptcy.
Cash had changed in the wake of his family’s personal and financial tragedies. Very little of the carefree, impetuous, fun-loving teenager remained in the ambitious, focused and cautious man today.
That hadn’t altered Phoebe’s feelings for him. Her sister Trudy was right. She liked him. Too much for her own good.
Besides his not reciprocating her feelings, which, face it, was a big obstacle, they were in business together. If they started dating and things soured, the result could have a disastrous effect on them and Wishing Well Springs. She didn’t want to risk that. She wouldn’t risk it. Her position here was too important, and she’d be devastated to lose it.
