Last Chance on Moonlight Ridge

Autore

Catherine Mann

Letto da

18,6K

Capitoli

Autore

Catherine Mann

Letto da

18,6K

Capitoli

Harlequin💕 Romance 🤠 Cowboys 😌 Second Chances 🏙️ Contemporary 🏡 Small Town

Chapter One

Her wedding dress still fit.

The marriage, however?

It was exploding at the seams.

Hollie O’Brien smoothed her hands down the fitted lace gown, tiny seed pearls beading under her fingertips just as they’d done two decades ago. Even though she hadn’t been able to do up the buttons in back just now, the satin-and-lace creation felt the same against her skin, molding to her figure without being too snug.

Thank goodness it wasn’t too small, since she’d put off pulling it from the back of her closet until the very last minute. Avoiding memories?

Absolutely.

But now, time was up, and she had to face all this gown represented—all that she’d lost. She spun in front of the antique full-length mirror, her bedroom suite behind her in a rustic chic wash of blue velvet brocade and dark pine walls.

She’d put such care in choosing the dress back then, full of hope, confident that she and Jacob could withstand any storms life sent their way. She’d been naive—and so very wrong.

This definitely wasn’t the way she’d expected to celebrate her twentieth—the china—anniversary. Maybe that porcelain was prophetic, in some way, about the fragile nature of happiness. She and Jacob had exhausted every option—every alteration, so to speak—in hopes of salvaging their fractured union.

How ironic that they had built a thriving business focused on mending broken hearts and damaged relationships. Their Top Dog Dude Ranch perched in the Great Smoky Mountains was a success—and yet none of that reputed healing magic had shimmered over onto them.

At least she didn’t have to hang on much longer. She just had to make it through the next two weeks with her sanity intact. Their dude ranch was featuring a massive spring weddings event. Non-stop weddings for the next fourteen days.

What pure torture, especially now.

When they’d planned this event a year ago, it had seemed like a brilliant idea to combine their anniversary month with a spring weddings theme. As part of the promotion, she’d gotten roped into putting on her gown for a photo shoot to be featured alongside images from their original ceremony.

But the positive press from the event was crucial for drumming up business. They needed the extra cash now more than ever. The expansion to a second Tennessee locale would give them each a place to live and autonomy in running their own division of the business. Otherwise, they would have to sell off the whole enterprise and split the proceeds once their divorce was final.

Hitching up the hem, she bunched lace in her hands, her buff-colored cowgirl boots tapping on the hardwood floor as she turned. She’d dreamed of passing the gown on to a daughter one day.

Even thinking of children brought a hitch to her throat and an ache all the way to her soul over so many losses. Miscarriages. Infertility. Her body had failed her.

Dropping on the end of her four-poster canopy bed, she sagged back, fingertips tracing the patterns in the creamy tapestry throw blanket like a talisman. Rumor had it the bed came from an old saloon. She prided herself on decorating the ranch with authenticity, the cabins with a Western vibe. She’d thrown herself into the business to fill empty hours.

To distract her thoughts from the grief that had hovered at the edges of her marriage for so long.

Her gray tabby leaped from the floor, to the navy paisley cushion, then settled onto her lap, purring. She threaded her fingers though the cat’s fur, medium length and plush rather than the typical shorter tabby coat. Pippa purred louder, pressing closer. Most people didn’t know a cat’s purr matched a hertz level that supposedly increased bone density and healing. She’d told ranch attendees that this was just one of the beauties of nature they utilized to help ranch guests. It was a miracle and science all wrapped up together. How many times had she preached that people who trusted the animal-assisted pack-tivities would feel the Top Dog healing boost?

Right now, she doubted that even a litter of kittens could mend her broken heart. Pippa mewed, nestling further into her lap as if to comfort Hollie’s unspoken pain. Petting under her cat’s chin, she took a deep breath. Then another.

She faced such a lonely future without her husband, without even her child. They’d finally embraced hope through adoption, welcoming a precious baby boy into their lives, only to have the birth mother change her mind and take the child back.

That had been the true beginning of the end for them. The blow had been fierce when, as a couple, they had already given all they had left inside. She hugged Pippa closer, only to realize she’d gotten fur on her dress, kitty hair dark against the white satin and stubbornly wrapped around seed pearls.

Standing, she eased Pippa to the floor and searched for the lint roller. A bark outside the bedroom door gave her only a second to react before a border collie Lab mix puppy bolted inside.

“Bandit, settle,” she called.

The pup ignored her, bounding and barking. Close on his heels, her Scottish terrier—Scottie—trotted, quietly, but radiating energy with each speedy wag of his stubby tail.

Pippa hissed, hair standing up along her spine.

Uh-oh.

The feline darted under the bed in a blur of mottled fur. Bandit took chase. Scottie shot beneath the puppy, taking the lead.

Squealing, Hollie stumbled out of the way. “Pippa, Bandit, Scottie, please...”

She searched for the best way to corral them without tripping or diving onto her knees after them. The photo shoot would be ruined if she showed up in a torn and muddy gown, her hair sticking out every which way.

Grabbing the bedpost with one hand, she clapped the other to her chest to anchor her dress in place. Her booted feet tangled in the hem. She heard a rip and cringed, struggling to loosen her hold to save the gown that had suddenly become more precious than she would have admitted an hour ago.

Satin slithered from her grip, the fabric pooling at her feet. A gasp behind her sent her gaze flying up to the mirror again.

Her gaze met the reflection of—her husband.

Jacob O’Brien braced a hand against the door frame, his world rocked by the sight of his gorgeous wife, a wife he hadn’t held or seen naked in months. Although technically, she wasn’t naked, but close enough to make his blood sizzle.

Hollie stood with her wedding gown around her ankles, her wide blue eyes appearing every bit as stunned as he felt. Her dark brown hair tumbled over her shoulders in waves. The white satin of her strapless bra cupped her breasts, making his hands itch to sweep it away and take her to the bed, to their bed.

His mind scrolled back to the first time he’d seen her in the gown and when he’d peeled it from her that night on their honeymoon cruise. Their marriage had seen struggles, but they’d always connected on a physical level—until their son had been taken back by his birth mother.

Just the thought sent a stab of pain clean through him, echoed by scrolling memories of JJ’s cherub cheeks and baby laugh. His eyes shifted to the place by their bed where JJ’s basinet had rested.

A movement just past that too empty space shifted his attention back to the present.

The cat shot from under the four-poster bed, reminding him that he didn’t want to risk anyone else seeing Hollie half-clothed. He closed the door quickly, throwing the bolt. Even though their quarters were private, that didn’t preclude someone from the ranch staff searching for them. The day had turned into utter chaos—in more ways than one.

Jacob strode deeper into the room, kneeling to scoop her dress upward. Rising, he met her halfway as she bent forward at the same time. Their eyes met, so close he could see her pupils widening with awareness.

He needed distance.

He wanted his wife.

And there wasn’t a chance he would get either.

Hollie took her dress from his fists, the brush of her touch electric, the lilac scent of her heady. His mouth watered for a taste of her.

Hitching the dress back up, she inspected every inch for damage as she pulled it in place again. A tiny tear showed along the hem. “I should have locked the door.”

“At least the photographer wasn’t with me.” A dry smile kicked across his mouth. “Although I wouldn’t mind having a few boudoir photos of you, for old time’s sake.”

“Not funny.” She waved him away. “Go tell the photographer I’ll be there as soon as I can get dressed. At least the rip is small and only in the hem.”

Watching her struggle to reach behind herself, he finally said, “Do you, uh, need help?”

“Actually, yes. With the buttons.” She sighed in exasperation. “I didn’t think this through, and I can’t reach them. How much longer do I have?”

“The photographer’s ready to roll. There’s not time for me to do anything more than help you.” He steeled his resolve, cupped her shoulders and turned her around.

She swept aside her flowing brown hair, sun through the part in the curtains shimmering on the barest hint of auburn. He barely succeeded in biting back a groan of appreciation at the thin strip of flesh leading from the nape of her neck to the top of her sweet bottom.

“Jacob?” She looked over her shoulder, her blue eyes wide.

Clearing his throat, he began fastening the tiny pearl buttons. Heaven help him, there were so very many of them, and as much as he wanted to take his time, that wasn’t an option. So he just soaked up the feel of her velvety skin under his knuckles as he made fast work of closing the gap. “Who took care of this the first time?”

“My mother.” Her voice washed over him, soft and musical. “She did my makeup and even arranged the flowers. She had such a gift.”

“I’m sorry she can’t be here to help you now—during this transition, I mean.” He hated to think of her alone.

He also hated to think of her moving on with another man.

“It’s not like our split is a surprise, Jacob. I’ve had time to adjust. It’s the waiting that’s the hardest part right now.”

Time to adjust? How could she be so glib about their life being torn apart? Her calm rationale cut right through him—and pissed him off. He fastened the last button. “There. All set.”

“Thank you.” She let her hair slide back into place, the strands slithering over his hand.

“You look...gorgeous.”

“That’s kind of you to say, but not needed.” She pivoted to face him again, her eyes full of so much awareness, pain...memories.

All that raw emotion, feelings echoing inside him, threatened to drive him to his knees. “Hollie, babe—”

Shaking her head, she flattened a hand on his chest. “I guess we should get moving if we want to finish up before the first of the wedding couples arrive. I’ll just staple the hem. No one will notice.”

“Oh, man.” He thumped himself on the head. “I came here to tell you about the change in scheduling.”

“What change?” She frowned as she hastily put on dangly pearl earrings.

“The vans for the kiddie camp are running ahead of time. They’ll be here an hour early.” Thank goodness his efficient wife would have seen that details were ready far ahead of time. He didn’t know how he would manage without her—in so many ways.

“We need to get moving, then.” She suddenly shifted into high gear, gathering her leather workbag full with her tablet and notes. She fished out a stapler, and with two quick clicks, the rip disappeared. She hastily threw in a makeup bag and a brush. “That’s going to cut it close with getting the photo shoot complete and checking in the wedding couples and then changing back into the Western gear, but we should be able to pull it off before the kids arrive.”

“Um, the bus with the first two wedding parties is stuck on the road because a bear is blocking the way.”

“A bear?” Her face flooded with pure panic. “Jacob, that means all those kids will be arriving at the same time as the wedding parties. It’s going to be chaos.”

Chaos? Yep. He’d thought the same thing at the idea of a bear in the road. It was like even the animals were conspiring against them.

He just needed to get through the next two weeks. Then he could hunker down and recover. Not for the first time, he wished he would be the one moving to the new locale. All the memories of Hollie—of their son—would be a specter he wasn’t sure how he would navigate.

“Here comes the bride.” From the pond’s dock, the photographer pivoted, silk scarf on his shoulder billowing behind him into the breeze.

Hollie picked her way down the wooded trail, her lace dress bunched in her hands. Her assistant held the train off the ground in a pseudo bridesmaid style as they made their way to the promo shoot. Spring caressed the branches of the trees reaching over the water, a splash of light greens and flower buds swaying in the cool mountain air. Jacob would be joining her as soon as he changed into his “groom’s” gear for the photography session.

At least they were out of the house, with the buffer of other people—and her dress wasn’t down around her ankles.

Her heart still hammered double time in her chest, her skin clinging to the memory of his touch along her back as he buttoned her gown. She needed to get her head out of the past, ditch all the memories of their wedding, their marriage, and focus on nailing this photo shoot.

The dock provided a prime spot to showcase the ranch, the mountains and valleys, so lush right now after the saturation of hefty winter storms. A couple paddled a lazy canoe in the distance, adding to the idyllic tableau. The waters narrowed into a stream that trickled over the rocks, and it followed for a mile, it connected to the hot springs inside Sulis Cave.

A breeze blew through, the mountain air cool even with approaching summer. She rubbed her arms against the chill.

“Do you want my jacket?” her assistant offered as they closed in on the photographer and reporter.

Ashlynn had joined their team last fall to help during the transition. A dear friend and foster sister of the co-owner of the new branch outside of Nashville, Ashlynn was a perfect fit for their Top Dog family. She floated back and forth between the two Tennessee locations for now, and would settle with Hollie at the new branch once the transition was complete for her to leave Moonlight Ridge.

Home.

“I’m good for now,” she said, swallowing down a lump and waving to the photographer in the distance as he walked around, checking lighting. “Thank you, Ashlynn.”

“I came prepared. I have a Top Dog windbreaker in my bag.” She held up a boho bag, opening it to reveal not only an extra jacket, but also a makeup bag, brush, and hair spray, for the photo shoot, no doubt. Ashlynn was a gem.

“If you’re sure. I wouldn’t mind draping one over my shoulders.” She plucked out the windbreaker with the Top Dog logo. “Hopefully we’ll get started soon. It’s going to be a zoo around here having two buses arrive at the same time.”

If it had been another wedding party showing up ahead of schedule, that would have been more manageable, since the welcome packet and activities were the same. But the vans with the children required a whole different type of welcome.

On the plus side, maybe the photographer would feature the children, too. Two dozen kids in the foster care system had been gifted with scholarships for a vacation at the ranch. One of the wedding guests had come up with the idea to make that his gift to a bride and groom. A truly lovely sentiment from a philanthropist, and one Ashlynn had taken a special interest in overseeing, given her own experience in foster care. Photo releases had been obtained for each child, with the hope of encouraging people to foster.

The whinny from a horse had Hollie looking over her shoulder. Jacob strode down the path, surefooted, leading Nutmeg—a blood bay Thoroughbred they had helped rescue and rehab from a neglect situation. Delicate sprigs of jasmine were threaded throughout the horse’s reddish-brown mane. Nutmeg’s neck arched majestically, making him look like something from a fairy-tale book. Her husband, decked out in wedding finery for the photo shoot, took her breath away every bit as much now as he had when they first married. He wore a black tuxedo with a bolo tie, a Stetson and cowboy boots. He was her every fantasy wrapped up in muscles and determination, honor and charm.

Except fantasies often didn’t hold up to the harsh light of reality. He’d been supportive during the fertility treatments and cancer battle, but she’d seen the strain on him. Not that he shared his worries and fears with her.

She pulled her attention back to the photographer. He was new to the paper, but she’d met him last week to determine the schedule and show him to the cabin they’d designated for his use to save time driving to the ranch every day. “Thank you for being a part of our spring weddings event, Mr. Clark. Where would you like us to stand?”

“Call me Milo. Please.” The photographer tugged on his graying beard, eyeing the landscape, his camera dangling around his neck. “I was thinking we could start out there on the little bridge over the stream. Will it hold up with the horse?”

Jacob stroked a hand along Nutmeg’s muzzle. “Absolutely. Everything here is built to code. We’ve even hosted an entire dinner party on that bridge.”

Milo waved them on. “Lead the way. I can get photos as we walk as well. How about hitch up the train and clasp hands with your husband. Mr. O’Brien, you lead the horse and pretend I’m just a regular guest who’s taking a tour. Forget about the camera.”

Easier said than done.

Hollie shrugged off the jacket and passed it to Ashlynn before linking fingers with Jacob, his touch warm and familiar. His warm brown gaze held her as firmly as his hand. Authentic? Or for the camera?

There’d been a time when this was so easy and natural for them. Now it was all just staged for business. The sound of the camera clicking serenaded them from behind, capturing images she knew would break her heart when she viewed them later.

Ashlynn walked alongside them, hitching her cavernous boho bag onto her shoulder. She tugged free strands of black curls that snagged under the strap before flashing the photographer a curious smile. “Milo, how much do you know about the history of Moonlight Ridge? It’s got quite a special legend.”

“I’m new around here,” the photographer answered, sweeping to the side for more photos. “Fill me in on the details so I can include it in our feature.”

“Well,” Hollie said, “there is a cave with hot springs. We have hours it’s open for any patrons, like a pool. Our guests can also schedule time slots to indulge as a family, couple, or private party. One of the bridesmaids has reserved it for a bachelorette party.”

“What a unique idea.” The photographer jogged ahead, huffing, then knelt for another shot.

Hollie tried to ignore how she and her husband’s steps had synched up, a habit of two decades together, instinctive. “We have another bridal party indulging in a spa day. Lonnie and Patsy—our massage therapists—have worked with us from the start and assist with many of our events. They’re also renewing their vows.”

“Mr. O’Brien, could you put your arm around your wife’s waist? Is the spa day at the springs?”

Her thoughts scattered at the strength of his arm, the spicy scent of his aftershave.

“The spa day can be at the springs.” Jacob picked up the conversational slack before the silence grew too noticeable. “But the massage therapists can travel to different locations at the ranch. The hot springs are called also called Sulis Springs. It’s reputed that magic carried from the Old World still lives with nearby animals.”

“Tell me some more about that.” Milo gestured for her to rest her head on Jacob’s shoulder as they neared the bridge over the creek.

Had Jacob kissed her on top of the head? Instinctively? Or for show? Either way, she tingled all the way to the roots of her hair.

“Once upon a time,” Jacob said, his deep breath rustling her hair, “when my ancestors were settling into this area from Scotland and Ireland, they followed a doe to the cave opening. It wasn’t just any old doe, though.”

Hollie slid into their routine easily, taking comfort in the familiarity of it. Had she used the rituals to avoid real connection before now? Very likely. “She was the Queen of the Forest, and she glowed like starlight.”

“My ancestors knew the type of animal well.” Jacob stopped at the foot of the bridge, bringing her hand to his chest as the camera snapped away. “They used to roam Scotland and lead wayward souls to safe places and healing waters that offered respite and a way to connect. My ancestors met all sorts of challenges in getting settled into this region. They wanted to give up on the land—even on each other. But legend has it, when they were at the end of their rope, they followed the Queen of the Forest to the cave mouth.”

Milo eased down toward the creek, using the lower angle to aim the lens up at them. “Keep going. This is all good stuff.”

“There was a lost pup in the cave whimpering.” Her mind echoed with the memory of her child’s cries, a sound that still tortured her dreams as she wondered if he wept for her, wondering why she wasn’t there to comfort him. “They searched and searched. Just when they’d given up hope, they found the scruffy little creature shivering, its paw caught between some rocks. They worked it free—but the real miracle is that the puppy didn’t even growl or bite during the process.”

Jacob’s brown eyes darkened, as if he sensed her thoughts. “So, while they waited for a pot of coffee to brew over the fire, they cleaned up the young pup. As they rinsed the puppy, their bond was renewed. Healed. They found a way to work with the land, with each other.”

Silence stretched, a woodpecker’s rhythm conspicuously loud, but she had nothing to offer up. Her mouth had gone dry. Jacob simply stared back, his eyes awash with pain he never acknowledged.

Ashlynn cleared her throat. “It’s magic,” she interjected. “Much like how our hot springs have healed and gathered people to Moonlight Ridge for over a hundred years. We have a reputation for bringing people together because of it.”

Together?

She felt like a total fraud, peddling snake oil. No matter how many couples and families she saw healed after their time at the ranch, it felt hollow with her own life falling apart. Her hands went cold, a chill that iced all the way to her soul.

Just as she started to angle away, to call an end to this torture, the photographer’s voice cut through.

“Mr. O’Brien,” Milo announced, “you may kiss your bride.”