How to Rope a Real Man (3 page)

Any guy who’d ever thought dancing was unmanly had obviously never danced a waltz with Jenna Sorentino.

All his childhood years of being forced by his parents to attend cotillion classes, the innumerable dance partners throughout his life who’d stepped on his toes, and too many late nights in loud, smoky country-western bars were all made worth it with the look Jenna gave him when she realized he knew what he was doing.

It was a breathless look of arousal that sent a surge of lust and machismo pumping thick and fast through his veins. Those same men who thought dancing was for sissies were probably the same ones who thought anything more than a hard, fast fuck was a waste of time. Their loss, his gain, because dancing with Jenna was one of the most erotic forms of foreplay he’d ever experienced.

Dangerously so. Every swish of her hips and arch of her back led him deeper into wanting. In his hand he held her delicate fingers, which ended in white-tipped nails. He could imagine those nails, those fingers, grazing him all over, wicked and hot. Her skin and hair smelled of honey and almonds, and damn, he wanted to feast on her something fierce.

He’d never danced a waltz with a hard-on before. Any dance, for that matter. Probably should’ve expected as much tonight; after all, a man didn’t want a woman for as long as he had Jenna without experiencing some sort of visceral reaction the first time he touched her body. And Jenna was, quite simply, the sexiest, most luscious creature he’d ever laid his hands on.

He should’ve never dared to dance with her.

But the alternative would’ve been that slick rodeo cowboy taking her for a spin around the floor, and there was no way in hell he was going to watch another man leading her in Matt’s favorite dance while he stood on the sidelines.

What a crazy, messed-up way of thinking. It didn’t matter how much hot-blooded testosterone pounded through his body when he was dancing with Jenna or how many nights he’d dreamed of holding her, because none of it meant shit when all the chips were down and she was standing there, pressed into him, offering her lips. He may have wanted her worse than he’d ever wanted a woman, but he still wasn’t going to kiss her.

He didn’t date single moms.

Not anymore. Not even those who were beautiful and smart and got his engine revving like Jenna did.

The policy sounded arrogant and callous. Even knowing the reasons behind it, he disgusted himself. Looking down at Jenna’s sweet, rosy lips, he knew he was the most pathetic man in history. But precedence and fear had a way of settling priorities. After everything he’d been through the past eleven years, there were only a handful of things in the world he feared more than single moms.

Tonight, fear won out over longing.

He smoothed a fingertip along her jaw, wishing he could be what she needed, knowing it was hopeless. But how could he turn her away? This soft, clever woman who’d done nothing wrong except try to get closer to him. He rested his cheek against hers and tried to find the words.

They were standing close enough together that he felt her phone vibrate in a pocket hidden in her dress. It was the out he needed.

“Your phone,” he said lamely, cringing at the rawness of his voice.

She opened her eyes and backed her face up to regard him with disbelief. “What?”

“Your phone’s vibrating. I think you should answer it.”

Her jaw tightened and in her eyes he read pain.
Hell.

“You do?”

“What if it’s important?”

She pulled her lower lip into her mouth and bit down, nodding. A ripple went through her body like she was resetting herself. “Silly me. I thought something important was going on right here.”

Giving him a look that told him exactly how much he’d hurt her, she turned on her heel and stalked across the middle of the dance floor, fishing her phone out as she went.

He stepped back, out of the way of the dancers, and inhaled sharply.

Stupid, stupid jackass.

His first instinct was to leave. He could settle the bill, say good-bye to Kellan and Amy, and get in his car. But all that was waiting for him at the end of the drive was a lonely hotel room, and besides that, he wasn’t the walk-away kind.

True, he was the leading-a-good-woman-on-and-causing-her-undue-pain kind, but running and hiding was a shade more cowardly than he was willing to stoop.

What he really needed to do was cowboy up and talk to Jenna tonight so things weren’t weird between them at the wedding. To make that happen, he needed to figure out a way to explain why they couldn’t get involved without telling her the whole, hideous truth.

A little liquid courage first wouldn’t hurt either.

He started for the bar. Halfway there, a man clapped him on the back. “Where I come from, we call dance moves like yours skirt flippers.”

He turned to face Kellan, all six-foot-something of bulky rancher build, grinning from ear to ear as any dopey-in-love man should be.

Kellan’s smile was infectious. Matt found himself following suit despite his lingering frustration from disappointing Jenna. “Something tells me you’ve never made a girl want to flip up her skirt because of your killer dance moves.”

Kellan swigged on his beer, then hid a belch behind his hand. “The only way my dance moves would be killer is if a girl could die from squashed toes. Lucky for me, my intended bride forgives me of my shortcomings.”

“Does that mean for your first dance as husband and wife you’ll be doing the prom hang?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jenna slip in from the patio. If he and Kellan didn’t move fast, she was going to walk right into them and he was nowhere near ready to face her yet. “I was headed to the bar. Join me?”

“Sounds good. I missed my prom, but if you’re implying that Amy and I are going to rock back and forth while bear hugging, that’s exactly what I had in mind.”

The casual acquaintance he and Kellan had struck up a decade earlier had strengthened into a solid friendship over time, thanks in large part to the massive oil deposit sitting under Catcher Creek and Kellan’s family ties to big oil. Over the years, Kellan had called on Matt a lot to help home owners negotiate fair contracts with his uncle’s less-than-altruistic oil corporation.

Matt loved practicing the kind of law that helped ordinary, hardworking people. The royalties he negotiated on behalf of the people with the oil sitting beneath their properties paid mortgages, sent kids to college, and kept struggling farms in the black.

It had been Kellan who’d hooked him up with Jenna’s family last December. The contract he’d negotiated for the sisters had saved the farm that’d been in their family for generations. Victories like that were the reason he’d become a lawyer and were the legacy he wanted to leave. Even if he wasn’t destined to start his own family, he could help other families stay intact.

“Getting any closer to biting the bullet and opening up your clinic?” Kellan asked as they sidled up to the bar.

Matt had dreamed about opening the low-cost legal clinic since law school, a business that would get him out of his corporate job at the law firm and into helping down-on-their-luck families full-time. He’d been socking away money and building industry connections for years, and a month ago, he’d finally gotten serious about going after his dream and hired a Realtor to help him find the perfect storefront.

They’d narrowed the choices to two locations—one in downtown Santa Fe, near his family, and the other in Catcher Creek, the heart of oil country. The trouble was, some gut-level instinct was holding him back from making a choice and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why he was dragging his feet.

Matt signaled for two beers from the bartender. “I’ve got the paperwork and loans figured out, but it’s a scary prospect, giving up my salary and security at the firm.” That had nothing to do with it, but it was an excuse people readily accepted. Matt was in a unique position not to care about such things. Not only did he live a modest lifestyle, but he didn’t have a family to worry about providing for and he lived on his family’s property, which meant he had no mortgage or major expenses.

“Will the senior partners at your firm support you striking out on your own?”

“Yes. Absolutely. I’ve talked extensively with them about my plans and they’re being great about it. They don’t do much pro bono work, so I won’t be any sort of real competition.”

“Glad to hear it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Catcher Creek would be lucky to have you. Vaughn’s old house is on the market, now that he’s living out with Rachel on the farm. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to sell it to a friend.”

The beers arrived, their sides dripping with icy water. Matt snagged one and relished the bite of cold, bubbly brew sliding down his throat. “That’s definitely something to consider. The storefront I’m looking at in Catcher Creek is more affordable than the one in Santa Fe and it’d make my clinic easy to find for Quay County folks who need help.” But Jenna was here and he wasn’t sure he could stand seeing her on a regular basis, knowing she could never be his.

“How do you think your folks would handle their baby boy moving off the homestead?”

“Aw, do you have to put it like that? It’s not like I live under their roof like some overgrown slacker. Our houses aren’t even in shouting distance of each other. And that’s by design.”

Kellan pounded the last of his old beer and picked up the next. “Just bustin’ your balls. Santa Fe’s only three hours away from Catcher Creek, so it wouldn’t be like you’re moving to Mars.”

“Too true. How are you faring with the wedding? Nervous about tomorrow?”

After another swig of beer, Kellan shrugged. “Nah. Ready to get the show over with so I can whisk Amy away on our honeymoon.”

“The Caribbean, right?”

Kellan chortled. “I don’t see why we have to spend a whole day traveling to get to a private room with a comfortable bed, but apparently it’ll make Amy happy to know the ocean’s right outside our door, even if we never get around to seeing it.”

He dug for his wallet, but Matt waved him away and threw a twenty on the counter. “What time is your brother getting in for the wedding?”

Kellan’s face turned stony, and Matt knew he’d stepped in it. Jake wasn’t coming. Shit.

“I’m sorry,” Matt said.

“Me too.” He squinted at a blank space on the far wall.

The awkward silence that ensued had Matt debating his next move. Change the subject or say something sappy? It was a tricky situation because he and Kellan didn’t have that kind of relationship. They’d been buddies for a long time, but more like beer-drinking, hunting pals than the
let’s talk about our feelings
kind.

What the hell, he decided. There were worse things in life than letting your friends know you cared about them. Didn’t make him any less of a man.

“That really sucks. He’s your family and he should be here for you on the most important day of your life. You deserve better than that.”

Kellan’s eyes shifted to Matt, the stoniness replaced by regret. “I really don’t. That’s the thing. I’m not sure what I was thinking, asking him to be my best man. That was jumping the gun on my part. We only just started talking again this December. It should’ve been enough for me to invite him instead of putting him front and center like I tried to.”

Matt would probably be kicking himself too, if he were in Kellan’s situation. The thing of it was, with five siblings and an extended family that would fill the Superdome, nothing like that would ever happen to him. Still, he knew what it meant to blame yourself for things out of your control.

“Listen, that’s bullshit, man. If Jake wasn’t comfortable being in the wedding party, then he should’ve never agreed. You can’t control what other people say or do any more than a farmer can make it rain when he wants to.”

Which was exactly the mantra he’d been telling himself since the accident that had changed everything. If only the words were as easy to believe as they were to say.

Kellan pressed a finger to the spot between his eyebrows and squeezed his eyes closed. “My mom’s still holding out hope that Jake will make it to the wedding. I think I’ll wait until I drive her home to break it to her that he won’t be there. No sense in ruining her night sooner than necessary. Mostly, I don’t want Amy worrying about this. I can tell she already is, even though she’s doing a decent job of hiding it.”

Good plan. “Neither you or Amy has anything to worry about. It’ll be smooth sailing from here on out. Jenna’s done a great job planning this shindig, and tomorrow, Vaughn, Chris, and I will be standing up there with you, and you know we’ve got your back. It’s going to be a great day, okay?”

Kellan mustered a grin and socked Matt on the shoulder. “Damn right it will.”

A clatter of boot heels had both men turning to find the source of the noise. Jenna shouldered her way between them and waved her phone, her eyes wide. “We’ve got a problem. A big one.”

The pain that had been in Jenna’s eyes when she’d looked at Matt only a few minutes earlier had vanished, replaced with cool indifference, as if he were any other man she barely knew. That was what he wanted, wasn’t it? For her to stop pursuing him? So then why did his chest ache with the loss?

“You were right to have me take that call,” she said, pointing her phone in his direction. “It was Philomena, the florist.” Her eyes shifted to Kellan. “You know, the one I told you about who Marti at the salon recommended because she did her sister’s wedding?”

Kellan fiddled with his beer, wide-eyed and clueless, as if to say,
I’m just a guy. Don’t expect miracles
. “Was that the night the Cardinals beat the Dodgers?”

Jenna gave a little head shake. “Anyhow, the van bringing the flowers in from Texas broke down outside of Amarillo this morning. Complete engine failure in the middle of nowhere. With this summer heat, by the time the tow truck got there, every flower in the back had languished.”

“Languished?” Matt and Kellan echoed at the same time.

Jenna held up her palms. “Philomena’s word, not mine. And when I asked her to clarify, she said she’d mail back the deposit, along with a bouquet of stargazers as an expression of her apology.”

Kellan lifted his hat and ran a hand over his hair, his vibe turning desperate. “She can’t pull out now. The wedding’s tomorrow.”

“I know that, sweetie.”

“She should have called you hours ago.”

“I know that too.” Her smile was serpentine, her voice low and tight. “And I fully plan on shoving those stargazers up Philomena’s you-know-what where they won’t ever see the stars again, but that’s going to have to wait until after I’ve thrown my sister the most beautiful, most perfect wedding Catcher Creek has ever seen.”

Kellan cursed and turned away to stare at the wall like he was thinking about kicking a hole in it.

Matt tried a smile on for size and attempted to lend some perspective to the crisis. “It’s not like the reception hall burned down or something catastrophic. They’re just flowers, right?”

Until that moment, standing before Jenna, Matt wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the full capacity of a woman’s wrath. It made him take a few cautionary steps back in case she burst into flames right there in the middle of the Sarsaparilla Saloon.

Her eyes got small. Beneath her dusting of freckles, her skin turned pink. She rose up to her full height, then higher still, as if anger were a substance lighter than air, making her body levitate.

“For your information, all Amy wanted—her only request—was a wedding filled to bursting with flowers. We planned for flowers lining the pews and altar at the ceremony, bouquets, boutonnieres, and corsages for the bridal party”—with each word, her body levitated higher—“flower centerpieces for the tables at the reception, topping the limousine, topping the cake, and fashionably nestled in her updo. Think of her updo, Matt!”

Matt didn’t know what an updo was, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to ask. He looked to Kellan for rescue, but he was still drilling a hole in the wall with his eyes. Turning his focus back to Jenna, Matt held up a finger like a timid kid hoping the teacher would call on him to speak.

She didn’t.

“It’s nine o’clock on a Friday night, the wedding is eighteen hours away, and Catcher Creek is smack in the middle of Bumfuck, Egypt!”

Those were all valid points, but Matt knew something she didn’t. Something that had a high certainty of fixing the problem. “Take a breath, Jenna. I have a solution.”

Kellan’s head whipped their way, his eyes pleading, but Jenna was unconvinced. She wagged a finger in warning. “This better not be more of your glass-half-full optimistic bull—”

He wrapped one hand around her finger and the other over her lips. “My sister Tara is a florist.”

Could’ve been another optical illusion, but she seemed to drop her boots back to solid ground. Even her expression relaxed a shade. He shoved his hands in his pockets lest he was tempted to pull her closer and help her relax even more.

“Where?” Kellan asked.

“Santa Fe. If we left right now and called her from the road, we’d get there in under three hours.”

Jenna flattened her hand against Matt’s chest, breathing and blinking. “Three hours is midnight. She’d have to work through the night to make enough flower arrangements, and that’s if she has the flowers to spare. That’s a lot to ask of anyone. I mean, she doesn’t even know Amy.”

His heart rate sped up at her touch and he wondered if she could feel it pounding. He took a breath, pushing his ribs into her palm. “When I tell her how important this is, I guarantee she won’t even blink. She’s family. Besides that, Tara owes me. Big-time.”

Finally, Jenna met his eyes. Her lips twitched and then spread into a smile, her expression no longer panicked, but amused and maybe a little awed. “You’re going to save me, aren’t you?”

He wrapped a strand of her wavy blond hair around his finger, then let it spring away. “I’m going to try.”

Shaking her head, she fiddled with his shirt collar. “This is unbelievable. What’re the odds you have a florist in your family?”

Matt rocked on his heels. “Pretty good, actually. Five siblings, plus four spouses and an ex-spouse makes ten different careers. Add to that eight aunts and uncles and eighteen cousins, all in the general Santa Fe area. Yeah, I’d say my family’s got you covered no matter what kind of help you need. Well, except dentistry.”

“No dentists?” She faked some shock and lightly scraped his forearm with those white-tipped nails. He fought to ignore his body’s response.

“You’d have to look all the way to my third cousins on my mom’s side to find one, and even then, I wouldn’t trust him with my teeth. He’s a shifty sort.”

Kellan clapped his hands together, reclaiming their attention. “Let’s do this thing. You and me, Matt, let’s go. Right now.”

“Not you,” Jenna said. “You’ve got enough on your plate keeping your mom and Amy from worrying. Don’t tell them about this yet. Let them get a good night’s sleep and you can break the news in the morning.”

Kellan glanced across the room to where Amy and Rachel were fumbling through a two-step together. “You’re right. That’d be the best plan.”

“Matt and I are going to fix this, Kellan. We’re going to save the wedding.”

Vaughn chose that moment to enter their circle, chuckling. He hooked his arm around Kellan’s neck. “K, I think our women are tipsy. I like it. How much tequila did you make them drink, Jenna?”

“Just the right amount.” She snagged Vaughn’s other arm. “Hey, listen, would you and Rachel take Tommy home with you tonight? There’s something I’ve got to do.” She waved dismissively. “Last-minute wedding prep.”

“No problem.”

She fished a set of car keys from her pocket and set them in Vaughn’s hand. “For Tommy’s booster seat.”

Matt handed him the key card to his hotel room. “Room one-twelve, in case you need to grab my tux and meet us at the civic center.”

Though Amy and Kellan had originally planned to marry at the farm, the ballroom at the Tucumcari Civic Center, thirty miles east of Catcher Creek, had proved to be the only air-conditioned reception hall in the whole of Quay County that could fit the lengthy guest list they’d drummed up. The ceremony would take place in the center’s sprawling atrium.

“What? Why would you be late?”

“No time to explain.” Matt tucked Jenna’s hand around his elbow, exhilarated by the idea of spending the night with her—even if it was nowhere near the kind of night he’d fantasized about. “See y’all tomorrow. Wish us luck.”

Kellan stuck his hand out. “Thank you, man. When you get hitched, you’ll understand how grateful I am for your help.”

Matt shook his hand and smiled, but his heart sank. There probably wasn’t a man in the free world who wanted to get married as badly as he did, but every year the prospect seemed less and less likely. He simply couldn’t figure out what kind of woman would have a man who wasn’t whole. Certainly none of the women he’d met.

Except maybe single moms, but that was a beehive he was through kicking.

He angled Jenna toward Tommy, who was back on the dance floor, this time with his grandma. “You say good night to your son and I’ll bring my car around. Time for you and me to make some wedding magic.”

It took Jenna a few minutes to wrangle a kiss from her busy son and explain that he’d be going home with Aunt Rachel and Uncle Vaughn. His eyes lit at the prospect. Sleeping in the big house on the farm with two of his favorite grown-ups—and Mom nowhere in sight—was a rare pleasure indeed for an independent little guy like he was.

She couldn’t find Amy to say good-bye, but that was probably for the best. Ever since their sister huddle and tequila shots, Amy had looked so happy and distracted from her wedding nerves that Jenna didn’t want to put herself in the position of trying to explain why she was ducking out early.

On the flip side of the heavy wooden saloon door, she stepped into the sultry summer air. Matt had brought his red SUV near the entrance and stood leaning against the passenger door, his arms in the pockets of his jeans and the slight breeze ruffling the tips of his dark hair. She loved how he wore his hair, styled with product to give it a youthful, mussed-up look. The carefully constructed illusion made her want to muss it up for real.

He offered her a lopsided smile. The appearance of her favorite dimple almost made up for him begging off from kissing her earlier with one of the lamest excuses she’d ever heard.

“You ready to ride with me, young lady?”

“You know it, cowboy. I’ve been trying to get you alone in a car for a long time.” Damn it, she’d vowed not to flirt with him anymore and there she went, already back at it. The kicker was, she knew he had to be aware of their compatibility. The attraction that sizzled between them was too palpable for him not to feel it like she did, all the way deep down to her heart and soul.

Maybe she shouldn’t let her pride talk her into giving up on him quite yet. Maybe this night together would prove the tipping point in their relationship.

He pushed off the door and opened it. “Are you confessing that you sabotaged the flowers on purpose to set up this all-night road trip?”

She sent him a sidelong look filled with intrigue. “My lips are sealed.”

“Oh, no. Don’t you dare try to distract me from your mischief by talking about your lips. That’s double dirty dealin’.”

She slid onto the seat, catching the way his eyes followed the swing of her bare legs into the car. She was busy congratulating herself on choosing to wear a sundress instead of jeans when her boot touched down on something hard. A crunch like an aluminum can buckling filled the space. She moved her foot off the can, inadvertently kicking a second.

“Oh geez, sorry,” he muttered, diving down around her legs in search of them.

As he groped along the floor, his cheek brushed her leg. Her breath caught.

He jerked his head away, face averted, one hand holding an empty energy drink and the other covering his cheek. “I didn’t mean to . . .”

He tossed the can into the backseat and stared into the darkness beyond the parking lot.

God, Matt, what’s it going to take for you to overcome whatever’s haunting you?

Determined to reclaim his attention, she ground the heel of her boot into the other can.

Their eyes locked. The band of tension that had been pulling between them all night stretched tighter.

A twist of her ankle crinkled the aluminum again. She cocked an eyebrow in challenge.
Get the can, Matt. Reach on down there, big guy.

He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. “Miss Sorentino, are you trying to seduce me?”

“I’m just trying to clear some room for my legs.” She smoothed her hand over her thigh.

Those must’ve been the magic words because with a jolt his expression thawed. His focus shifted to her lower body. Unfolding his arms, he stepped into the doorway, looming over her.

And then his fingertips were on her bare knee. She sucked in a deep breath and held it, letting her lungs burn.

With a feather touch and a gaze as dark and hot as the air outside, he dragged his fingers higher, to the edge of her skirt.

She slid her eyes to his hand and watched as he ever so slowly pushed the hem higher.

Her whole body flushed with awareness and an ache flared to life between her thighs. She arched into his touch, relishing the sound of his quickened breath that told her he was as turned on as she was.

“You make me forget myself, Jenna,” he whispered, throaty. His hand left her skirt and dipped to the inside of her thigh.

“That’s a shame because I was looking forward to getting to know you better tonight.” Before she had time to second-guess the move, her hand shot to the back of his head. Fingers delved into his thick hair, pulling his head to her. His hand grabbed a firm hold of her thigh as the distance between their lips closed.

The door of the saloon opened with a bang so forceful both Jenna and Matt turned to look. Kellan stood in the doorway, his expression homicidal. “What are you two still doing here?”

Matt rose to his full height, his hand falling away from Jenna’s leg, and pivoted to face Kellan. “What’s wrong?”

Kellan angled his focus around Matt and stabbed a finger at Jenna. “No more tequila for Amy—ever again. She’s in the bathroom, sick.”

Jenna sat back against the seat, her mouth falling open. “What? She only had one shot.” Sure, Amy was a lightweight, but not
that
big of one. “Has to be wedding nerves.”

“This wedding is turning into a circus, for shit’s sake. I’m this close to grabbing Amy and finding a judge to get this thing over and done with so we can get on with the rest of our lives.” He knocked the toe of his boot hard against a brick planter box. Jenna had never seen him this upset before. He looked like a big, angry bear.

Matt moseyed his way, casual and slow, counterbalancing Kellan’s agitation.

“No, you won’t,” he told Kellan in a smooth, confident tone, “because Amy wants a big wedding, and I’ve seen you with her enough that I know you’d do anything for her. We’re going to celebrate you and Amy coming together to start a family, and it’s going to be a beautiful time, even if it’s not exactly like you planned. But that’s life, right? Messy as hell. Weddings are no different. Wouldn’t it set a terrible tone for your marriage to kick things off by quitting?”