The Wedding Ranch by Nancy Naigle

Author:Nancy Naigle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

* * *

Wednesday morning, he put a small cooler in the back of his truck and drove into town to pick up his order from Pastrami Joe’s. When he walked inside, Gladys was standing there grinning at him.

Great. And I was worried about twenty questions from Joe.

“Hey, Gladys. Picking up a to-go order.”

“So I hear.”

He pretended not to notice her accusatory tone.

She turned and put a large brown sack on the counter, then slipped a bottle of wine and two large bottles of water into a four-pack carrier, tucking cups, utensils, and napkins into the other slot. “Here you go. All set.”

“Thanks, Gladys.”

“You’re very welcome. You have a really nice afternoon.”

“Okay.” He started to leave, but he couldn’t without asking first, “So what makes you think this isn’t something for the twins or one of their customers?”

She leaned her arms on the counter with a grin. “Because when Reece was in here an hour ago picking up a deli tray, I flat-out asked her if this order was for them. She said no.”

“That would explain it.” He hurried out the door. Why did he ask? Now she’d be speculating for sure.

He drove over to Lorri’s house feeling incredibly ill-prepared.

Just friends, he reminded himself. Relax.

He pulled into her driveway and shut down his truck. Something he rarely did, it being a diesel, but somehow leaving it running in the driveway seemed like he was rushing things and he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression.

He’d stayed as far away as he could from this neighborhood until now. He had to admit, her house was very inviting. He liked the big stained timbers on the front. Kind of a farmhouse-meets-mountain-lodge look. The sage green was nice against the landscaping too. Every house on the road looked well maintained. The five-acre lots were deeper than they were wide, so it still had the feeling of a neighborhood to him.

He rapped his knuckles against the solid wood door. A deep woof gave him a start, followed by quick footsteps, probably hers.

The door swung open and Lorri stood there smiling in western boots, jeans, and a blue and white blouse. “Hi, Ryder. Come on in. Meet Mister.”

“Thanks.”

He stepped inside. The mastiff sat at attention about six feet back from the entry way. “So you’re Mister?” He held out his hand for Mister to check him out. “I’d have called you Ranger, short for Lone Ranger, with that black mask you’re wearing, but Mister suits you fine.”

Mister stood, sniffed his jeans, then pushed his forehead under Ryder’s hand.

“He likes you,” she said.

“I like him pretty good too.” He rubbed Mister under the chin. “Big as you are, folks better call you ‘Mister.’”

“You ready to go?” she asked.

“Yeah. Sure.”

She grabbed her purse, then dropped a kiss on the top of Mister’s head and made him promise to behave before following Ryder outside.

She walked down the sidewalk to the passenger side of his Ford F-450 and reached for the door, but he was right there behind her and he grabbed the handle first to open it for her.

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