Chapter One
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Saedra Robbins.”
Saedra’s whole body jerked at the sound of that voice, the piece of luggage she’d been in the middle of pulling out of her rental car momentarily forgotten.
She closed her eyes, blotting out the California mountains and pine-studded meadows that surrounded her.
Cabe Jensen. The fly in her soup. The splinter beneath her nail. The rock in her shoe. Too bad he would be her host for the next two weeks.
Taking a deep breath, she turned to face the man. “Cabe,” she said with as pleasant a smile as she could muster.
He stood on the porch of his two-story Victorian home painted the color of an autumn forest—buttercup-yellow—his hands resting on the white railing. From nowhere came the thought that he looked like the quintessential master of the manor standing there, his tall, broad-shouldered frame the epitome of masculinity. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Even sideburns. For a moment she wondered if he expected her to curtsy before him as if he were some kind of feudal lord.
His gaze swept her up and down. “I see you made it in one piece.”
He looked for flaws, no doubt, although he would find none in the tasteful jeans and long-sleeved brown cotton shirt she wore.
“I sure did.”
“Pleasant drive?”
“Pleasant enough.”
She’d come to California straight from Nevada where her best friend, Trent Anderson, had won the team roping average at the National Finals Rodeo with his longtime roping partner, Mac. That left her exactly two weeks to plan Trent’s wedding, something that seemed like an impossible task, especially without his bride, Alana McClintock, around. The two of them had flown home to meet Trent’s mother. That meant she was on her own with nobody but Alana’s best friend, Cabe, and Cabe’s daughter, Rana, to help her out. To top it off, she’d never planned a wedding before in her life, but it couldn’t be that hard, right? And she had the food thing dialed-in thanks to the catering business she used to own. All she had to do was make arrangements for a wedding hall. Flowers shouldn’t be too hard. Party favors. Centerpieces. Decorations. She could handle all that, and the cake....
“You need some help?” Cabe stared pointedly at her car.
She glanced at the three pieces of luggage in her trunk—two suitcases, a matching toiletry bag and a garment bag that contained the dress she would wear to Trent and Alana’s wedding, bought in Las Vegas, of course. Enough clothes for three weeks. “No, no, I’ve got it.”
“Here.” He darted down the steps.
The man didn’t know how to take no for an answer. She quickly pulled the last piece of luggage out—the small toiletry case—hoping to scoop everything up before he got there, but she should have known better. He was by her side in an instant.
“Let me have that.” He grabbed the handle of her largest suitcase before she could stop him.
“You don’t need to do that.”
She was treated to his censorious stare beneath the brim of his black cowboy hat—one that matched his shirt—but that wasn’t curled up around the rim like a traditional hat. In this part of the country, everyone wore them wide and flat. They might look silly on some cowboys, but not Cabe. Too handsome for his own good, she thought, not for the first time.
“Thanks,” she said, cursing inside because she’d meant the word to come out sounding truly thankful, but it’d come out all wrong—more grudging than grateful.
“My pleasure.”
He didn’t like her. She’d known that, although it didn’t make it any easier to swallow. She knew why, too. From the moment she’d first spotted Cabe Jensen standing in the middle of a barn aisle five months ago, she’d become a babbling moron. She hadn’t meant to sound so domineering and bossy, but she knew that’s exactly how her words had come off to his ears. She’d tried to rectify the situation at least a half dozen times, but every time she opened her mouth she said the wrong thing all over again. Drove her nuts.
“And thanks so much for letting me stay with you.” She really was grateful about that. It would make things much easier.
“It’s going to be great.” His smile looked as sickly as a cardiac patient’s. “I can’t wait.”
She almost laughed. Acting would never be his forte. “I can’t wait, either.”
He glanced back at her. She felt her cheeks flush with heat. The man had that effect on her. That, too, drove her nuts.
“I, ah...” She smiled. “It’s going to be a lot of work, of course. You know. The whole wedding in two weeks thing, but it’ll be easier with your help.”
There. That hadn’t sounded too bad.
He picked up the last of her luggage and turned to face her. She almost laughed all over again. Poor man looked like a pack mule with her luggage stacked beneath his arms.
“Don’t count on me for much help. You’re the pro.” He headed for the house before she could stop him. “And I hope you can pull it off for Alana and Trent’s sake,” he added over his shoulder.
Thanks for the vote of confidence, she found herself thinking. Typical Cabe. He was Alana’s boss and best friend, and so she bit back a sarcastic retort, but it was hard.
He paused at the top of the steps, glancing back at her. “Coming?”
She’d been staring after him like a buffoon. “I need to get my cat.”
“Excuse me?”
Oh, dear. He hadn’t been told. Darn that Alana and Trent. They should have given him a heads-up.
“Ramses.” She smiled sheepishly. “My cat. After the pharaoh. He thinks he’s king of the world, and if I’d left him behind in Colorado, he wouldn’t have spoken to me for a month. Seriously. He has major catt-itude. Didn’t Alana and Trent tell you I was bringing him along?”
Clearly not.
“I hate cats.”
Big surprise. He probably hated puppies, babies and fuzzy little chicks, too. “I promise you won’t even notice him.”
His lips tightened in a way that projected “Famous last words.”
Oh, well. Nothing she could do about it now. It wasn’t like she could ship Ramses home.
“You’ll see. He’s adorable. Nobody can resist Ramses.”
Nobody but him, she would bet.
She headed toward the front seat of the rental where Ramses had spent the past few hours riding it out—much to his dismay. The orange Peke-faced Persian stared up at her in the same way Cabe Jensen did—with a combination of resentment and disgust.
“Hey there, buddy.” She lifted the travel kennel up to her face. Ramses’s gaze moved from her to the pasture behind her, then back to her face again, pupils flaring, smooshed-in nose lifting up as if he’d caught a whiff of the pines and freshly cut grass behind her. “You okay?”
As a reply, the cat let out his trademark Persian howl, a cross between stepped-on kitty and wailing banshee. Her gaze darted to Cabe, but he just raised his