Her Montana Christmas Groom Page 3

  “You’re overly sensitive. It’s not that much of a difference. You just had a birthday.” He decided it was best not to put a finer point on it with numbers. “And in two months I’ll be a year older. See? We’re practically the same age.”

  “Nice try. With hinky math like that it’s a wonder you got into an engineering program at all.” She shot him a rueful look.

  Austin followed Rose, mesmerized by the sway of that feminine skirt. There were white cloth-covered tables three deep lining the perimeter of the room with the center open for dancing. Poinsettias in red and white with candles on either side made up the centerpieces. In the far corner, wedding gifts were piled up and there were two bars set up on either side of the room. Austin guided her straight to the closest one.

  “I’d like a glass of chardonnay,” she said.

  The bartender, in crisp white shirt, red tie and black pants, had dark hair shot with gray. “May I see your ID?”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Identification,” he repeated. “It’s illegal for me to serve alcohol to anyone under twenty-one.”

  “I’m way over that,” she assured him.

  “Okay, but I need to see some proof of that.” His tone was polite and professional.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No.” He didn’t budge.

  “He’s a friend of yours,” she said to Austin, suspicion lurking in her eyes. “You put him up to this. It’s a practical joke.”

  “I’ve never met him before,” he assured her, giving the guy a what-are-you-going-to-do shrug.

  She blew out a breath, then opened her tiny beaded black evening bag, pulled out her driver’s license and handed it over.

  The bartender checked the date and looked surprised. “Wow, I’m usually not that wrong.”

  “And I haven’t worked that hard for an alcoholic beverage since… Actually ever.”

  “Did you even try to get a drink before you were old enough?” Austin asked.

  “No.”

  “Good thing.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ve probably always looked about twelve.”

  “Thanks, I think.” She took a sip of the pale gold liquid.

  “What’ll you have?” the bartender asked him.

  “Beer. Bottle is fine.”

  “Coming right up.”

  “Hey,” she said to the bartender. “How come you didn’t ask him for ID?”

  The guy grinned. “Because I can tell by looking that he’s legal.”

  Austin saluted a thanks with his bottle and they walked across the open dance floor to find their table. Rose was frowning and clearly in a snit.

  “What’s bugging you, Red?” he asked.

  “Like you don’t know,” she grumbled.

  “I’ve always looked older.” He shrugged. “It’s why I was able to get a tattoo when I was under age.”

  “No way.”

  “Yeah.” He took a sip of his beer. “It’s a beaut, too.”

  “Where is it? Show me.”

  “That would require undressing—”

  She slid him a wry look and shook her head.

  Too bad. He would very much like to undress her and see if she had more freckles on the curvy body under her lace and velvet dress. She was really stubborn about the age thing and if he was as smart as everyone thought, he’d throw in the towel. The problem was, he liked her. She was a real firecracker and it had nothing to do with the color of her hair.

  Austin was inclined to hang in for a while and see if he could fire her up.

  After dinner, Rose sat alone at the table watching couples on the dance floor. Until a few minutes ago she and Austin were one of them and she’d really liked the feel of his arms around her. Then his sister Angie had commandeered him for the chicken dance. What wedding was complete without that?

  Everyone seemed to be having a great time. What was not to like? The whole event had lived up to its advance billing as the social affair of the year. It was completely enchanting. This room looked as magical as the resort’s transformed lobby with twinkling lights wrapped around bare white branches and the poinsettias added a touch of red. The brides were perfect and perfectly happy with their hunky, handsome grooms.

  It was the ultimate romantic fantasy and Rose was having serious doubts about her own ever coming true. Of course her brother Jackson chose that moment to sit down beside her. His fiancée, Laila Cates, pulled out the chair next to his.

  “Hey, sis.”

  “Hey, yourself. Hi, Laila.”

  “Hi, Rose.” The other woman smiled. “Love the dress.”

  She appreciated the compliment, but it didn’t lift her spirits. How she longed to rest her head on her big brother’s strong shoulder, but he wouldn’t understand. Besides the fact that he was a guy’s guy, he’d found the love of his life. Blonde, blue-eyed and beautiful, Laila looked like she’d stepped off a page of People magazine. And handsome Jackson, with his dark hair and eyes, could be in the movies if he wasn’t doing community outreach and public relations work for Traub Oil Montana.

  “You look really pretty tonight,” Laila added.

  Rose smiled at the woman who would be her sister-in-law. “I might have had a shot at mildly attractive until you sat down.”

  “Oh, please.” She waved off the compliment.

  Jackson’s dark brown eyes glowed with pride and love when he looked at her. “My sister is right.”

  “About what?” Rose demanded. “That I have to wear a bag over my head?”

  “No, that the woman I plan to marry is as beautiful as she is sweet and caring.”

  “Yeah.” Rose nodded grudgingly. “If she wasn’t, I could take great pleasure in hating her guts.”

  Laila laughed and like everything about her, the sound was beautiful. The least she could do was snort. “That’s probably the highest praise and most sincere compliment I’ve ever received.”

  “But true.” Rose sighed. “Darn it.”

  “You’re not happy for me?” Jackson glanced at his fiancée. “For us?”

  “Of course I am. Truly.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything’s fine.” If she pretended long and hard enough, maybe that wouldn’t be a lie.

  “Look, Rosie, you ought to know by now that fooling me isn’t going to happen. So why won’t you tell me what’s up with you?”

  “Because you really don’t want to know.”

  “Yes, I do. We do,” Jackson said and Laila nodded her agreement.

  Rose looked at the happy, perfect couple and loneliness sucked her in further. This room was filled with happy, perfect couples and that was hard to look at when you weren’t part of one. Especially when she’d worked so hard to make it happen. She’d dated a lot of guys, but not one of them was her prince and a happy ever after wasn’t looking hopeful.

  “I think there’s something wrong with me,” she finally said.

  Jackson frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “It would be easier if I could blame my singleness on a lack of men. But no one would buy that excuse because I’ve dated more than any girl in the history of Thunder Canyon.”

  “We noticed.” Her brother’s tone was wry.

  “Don’t start on me. The thing is, you’d think out of all those men there would be a spark, some chemistry, some hope, but not so much. There’s no magic. No zing. No lightning. No sizzle.”

  Except with Austin Anderson.

  It was proof that fate had a bizarre and warped sense of humor. From the moment he’d picked her up for this wedding, her skin had tingled. Being near him made her chest feel tight and don’t even get her started on the zing and sizzle when he’d held her in his arms on the dance floor.

  Rose met her brother’s gaze. “The guys I’ve met are all great, so the only possible conclusion is that there’s something wrong with me. Maybe my standards are too high.”

  “Maybe you’re afraid.” Jackson’s
gaze never wavered.

  “Of what?”

  “Being hurt. You haven’t had a long-term relationship since the jerk in college.”

  Rose was surprised that, not only had he been paying attention to her romantic life, but that he had also remembered. And the memory shouldn’t still sting, but it did. She wanted very much to change the subject, but blowing off the question gave the past more power than it should have.

  She looked at Laila. “When I was in college there was this pre-med student. We were together over a year and I was in love with him. Graduation was coming up fast for both of us and it was time to fish or cut bait. He cut bait.”

  “Why?” Laila glanced at Jackson who nodded.

  “He fell into the poor-but-proud group. I believed that love was all we needed.” She shrugged. “He chose medical school over marriage.”

  “That’s too bad.” Laila’s blue eyes brimmed with sympathy. “Sounds like the timing was just off.”

  Apparently that was Rose’s fatal flaw—attraction to ill-timed men. The only one who interested her was born too late. Or she was too early. Either way that made him too wrong.

  “Will you two excuse me?” Laila squeezed her fiancée’s hand. “I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

  “I’ll be waiting.” There was love and longing in Jackson’s eyes as he watched her weave through the crowd to the door.

  Rose felt equal parts of envy and pleasure that the two had found each other. She loved her brother and wanted him to be happy. “She’s a keeper.”

  He nodded. “You and Austin Anderson looked pretty cozy out on the dance floor.”

  The words snapped her back to attention even as she wondered if Jackson Traub had turned into a mind reader. She wasn’t sure what annoyed her most: that he’d noticed her with Austin or that he was right about the cozy part. If he’d noticed, surely other people had, too. That’s just what she’d wanted to avoid.

  “What are you talking about? Cozy?”

  “Laila mentioned it.”

  “What?” she hedged.

  “That you and Austin seemed to be having a good time,” he answered. “She hoped that’s a sign that things are looking up for him.”

  “For Austin? I don’t understand.”

  Jackson shrugged. “Apparently he had a bad experience with love.”

  Surely he’d misunderstood Laila. It was hard for Rose to believe that someone as handsome, sexy and smart as Austin wouldn’t have women falling at his feet.

  “What happened?”

  “Not a clue. It was before I moved to Thunder Canyon.”

  Rose tried not to be curious about Austin’s past. It was none of her business. Because she’d scratched him off her list, whatever had taken place would not impact her. They were nothing more than friends. But friends cared about each other. And confided their concerns. It would help to know the details of his bad luck.

  “Laila probably knows his story,” she suggested.

  “Probably,” he agreed.

  “You should ask her.”

  “Why?” Jackson’s look was skeptical.

  Rose couldn’t meet his gaze. She glanced away and saw the man in question coming toward them with a beer in one hand and a glass of white wine in the other.

  “No reason,” she said. “He’s a nice guy and I can’t imagine what woman in her right mind would dump him.”

  “Maybe that’s it.”

  “What?”

  “She probably wasn’t in her right mind,” Jackson suggested.

  “You should ask Laila.”

  His dark eyes narrowed. “You seem awfully interested.”

  “Not really.” She willed herself to look indifferent when every nerve in her body was quivering with questions. “It’s just that we’re friends.”

  “Okay.”

  “So you’ll find out what happened?”

  “I’ll ask Laila.”

  “Promise?” Rose said.

  “You want a pinky swear?”

  She did, but the words would never pass her lips. “A solemn brotherly promise is sacred enough for me,” she teased.

  Jackson glanced at the doorway, clearly looking for Laila. “I think I’ll go find my lady.”

  “Sounds like a good idea.”

  He stood, then tapped her nose. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Rosie. If anyone says different, I’ll beat him up.”

  “I’d like that,” she agreed laughing.

  “Seriously, if you need me, I’m there.”

  “I know.”

  She watched him walk away and meet his love at the door.

  “Who is Jackson beating up?” Austin put the white wine in front of her.

  “Guys with tattoos.” That was something else about this particular man that tweaked her curiosity.

  It was nothing more than being nosy. Curiosity was better than feeling sorry for herself. And how stupid was that? She had a great job. A family who loved her. And Traubs didn’t give up. She wasn’t a couple today, but tomorrow? Anything was possible. Still, she felt the tiniest twinge when Austin set the glass of wine in front of her, shades of regret that he could only be her friend.

  “Thanks.”

  “So you’re sure I can’t talk you into looking at my tattoo?”

  She laughed and realized how much easier it was to share in the joy of this beautiful evening when he was around. With luck, the romantic magic would shift in her direction. If it held, she wouldn’t have to kiss too many more frogs before one of them turned into a handsome prince.

  Chapter Three

  And another frog it was.

  There was no way Rose would kiss Harvey French. With her elbow on the wooden table, she rested her cheek in her palm and tried to look interested in what the guy was saying. Two days ago she’d been at the wedding with Austin and now, with her tush perched on the red vinyl seat in a booth lining the big room at Lipsmackin’ Ribs, she was missing him more than she could say.

  Harvey was an attorney she’d met in the mayor’s office that morning and he’d asked her to dinner. Note to self, she thought, when a guy asks you to dinner, be sure to find out where. This place was a big clue that would, as Mr. I’m-the-best-attorney-on-the-planet say, go to character. And his was as repulsive as the short, tight, blue-and-white, belly-baring T-shirts this restaurant made its waitresses wear.

  It was a big red flag. Not only was this place competition for her cousin DJ, there’d been some weird stuff going on between the competing restaurants.

  As far as a kiss transforming this guy, in the fairy tale it was all about looks and Harvey was already handsome. He was blond, blue-eyed and broad-shouldered. The gray suit and red silk tie he wore were expensive. And yet…

  Kill me now, she wanted to say. A direct meteor strike would be sudden and painless, unlike this never-ending, excruciating date. And they hadn’t ordered yet, just drinks. But there wasn’t enough liquor in the world to improve his personality.

  “I really took them apart in court,” he was saying. “It wasn’t even a contest.”

  “Oh?”

  “It cost them a bundle to defend against my client’s cause of action. I buried them in paperwork, tied up the legal team answering motions in court. It was a beautiful thing to behold.”

  “Really?” Rose kicked herself. The single word would signal encouragement to continue, which was the last thing she wanted. He was probably black and blue from patting himself on the back. If she heard one more party-of-the-first-part, fiduciary duty or jurisprudence, she’d scream. Or choke him.

  “They were forced to finally settle out of court. I was making it too expensive for them to continue defending against it. Although, just between you and me, there was no merit to my client’s lawsuit.”

  Rose stared at him. It was lawyers like him who gave every attorney who’d passed the bar a bad reputation. Time to change the subject to something neutral. Like her new hometown. The weather.

  “Thunder Canyon is a great place to liv
e,” she said. No “I” anywhere in that sentence.

  “I’ve lived here all my life. Did I mention I played football?”

  By her count he’d mentioned it four times. She remembered because she’d responded the same way three times and this made number four. “In Texas we take our football seriously.”

  “So you said.” Harvey sipped his whiskey and soda.

  Color her surprised that he’d noticed. She’d hoped that bringing up Thunder Canyon would segue into his asking why she’d moved. How she liked Montana. Did the cold bother her? Was it true that the best way to ride out a snowstorm was in front of a fire? She remembered Austin offering to help her build one and just the memory had her sizzling.

  Rose flashed back to how handsome he’d looked in his traditional black tux at the wedding. She remembered delivering dinners with him on Thanksgiving and his joking about boring her into a coma. No danger of that happening. He was fun. Unlike the buffoon sitting across from her.

  The buffoon continued, “In high school, I was quarterback of the football team when we won our division and went on to state.”

  “Is this a colder winter than usual in Montana?” she asked.

  “No, I remember football practice and games in the snow. Although our season went longer because we were always in playoffs when I was the quarterback.” The ice in his empty glass clinked when he swirled it. “It was good training for practicing law. Everyone tries to knock you down, but you dig in and don’t let them.”

  “Words to live by.” That was as close to neutral as she could get.

  She studied him. Good-looking. Smart enough to become a lawyer. From a nice family. On paper he was everything she wanted in a man if you left out the boring and self-centered part. He hadn’t asked her anything and apparently didn’t care how she was adjusting to her new life in town. Call her perverse, but she let the awkward silence drag on because everything that popped into her mind to say would only lead him into another topic about himself.

  “I’m pretty good on a pair of skis,” he said. “But there’s nothing like the adrenaline rush of snowboarding.”

  “Oh?” She couldn’t resist. “I bet that’s good practice for a career as a lawyer, too. Fall down, get back up.”