28c4-7b4f-5e5e-83fd-8fd762dc1e94">
“No way.”
“Carter. Come on, think about it. Really think about it. What if it doesn’t work out? What if … one of us falls in love and the other doesn’t?” What if one of us is already in love? “What if it ends up destroying our friendship, our partnership, everything? Then what?”
He just wouldn’t listen. “That’s not going to happen.”
“You can’t be sure of that.”
“Yes, I can. Nobody’s falling in love. That’s the beauty of it. We know who we are with each other. We’re going to have a great life together, Paige, a happy life. That falling-in-love crap isn’t going to happen to us.”
But it’s already happened to me.
* * *
The Bravos of Justice Creek: Where bold hearts collide under Western skies
Carter Bravo’s
Christmas Bride
Christine Rimmer
CHRISTINE RIMMER came to her profession the long way around. She tried everything from acting to teaching to telephone sales. Now she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly. She insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine lives with her family in Oregon. Visit her at www.christinerimmer.com.
For my dear friend Carol Sue Ell,
who loves books as much as I do
and is always ready with a kind word.
Thanks for the smiles, Carol Sue,
and for making every day just a little bit brighter.
Contents
It all started three days before Thanksgiving with a silly magazine quiz.
Paige Kettleman and her best friend and business partner, Carter Bravo, sat in the plush Denver offices of Leery International Drilling. They were waiting to meet with president and CEO Deacon Leery, who had already commissioned five big-ticket custom-redesigned cars from their company, Bravo Custom Cars.
Carter was getting fidgety. He spent most of his working life in old jeans and T-shirts, with his head stuck under the hood of one of his soon-to-be beautiful custom creations. He’d never enjoyed taking meetings.
But Deacon was a major customer. And Deacon liked Carter to come to his gorgeous office and listen to him ramble on about classic cars for a while before getting around to the dream ride he wanted Carter to build for him next. As far as Deacon was concerned, Paige didn’t really even need to be there. But she ran the business end of Bravo Custom Cars. She always went along to visit Deacon for that special moment when they started talking money.
Carter had already taken off his sport coat and tossed it across the back of his chair. Now he sat forward, elbows on his spread knees. He braced his square jaw on his big fist and tapped his booted foot impatiently.
Paige watched him and tried not to grin.
He sent her a quick, challenging glance. “So what? I hate sitting around. That’s a crime?”
She stifled a chuckle. “Who said a word about crimes?”
He grunted. “Smug. You know you are. Sitting there all cool and calm in your preppy little suit, tap-tap-tapping on your tablet.”
She gave him a bland smile. “I’m sure it won’t be long now.”
He grumbled something. She wisely did not ask him what. And then he grabbed one of the glossy magazines from the low table in front of them. Hitching one boot across the other knee, he slumped back in his chair and began thumbing through it.
She returned her attention to her tablet and her email correspondence with Kelly Cobb, the Realtor they’d hired a few weeks before. Bravo Custom Cars was looking to expand. Electric cars were the future, and Carter wanted to start building custom electric cars along with the gas hogs most of his clients favored.
Carter and Paige had their eye on a new location. They’d made one offer and been turned down. The owner had rocks in his head. Nobody else in town wanted that property. The building and large fenced concrete yard had been sitting on an ugly stretch of Arrowhead Drive on the outskirts of their hometown for over a year with a big For Sale sign on the gate. Paige and Carter were waiting for the seller to get real and lower his asking price a little before they tried again.
Carter nudged her with his elbow. “You got a pen?” She took one from her black leather tote and handed it over. “Thanks. You listening?”
“Um.”
“Good. Because you’ll love this. ‘Is he really your best friend or are you secretly in love with him?’ It’s a quiz and you need to take it.”
She zipped off the email to the Realtor. “No, I don’t.”
“Yeah, you do. It’s all about us.”
Paige