Part 1 (1/2)
Big Sky Mountain.
Linda Lael Miller.
The ”First Lady of the West,” #1 New York Times bestselling author Linda Lael Miller, brings you to Parable, Montana-where love awaits.
With his rugged good looks, vast wealth and family name, h.e.l.l-raiser Hutch Carmody is still the golden boy of Parable, Montana. But he's done some growing up-making peace with his illegitimate half brother and inheriting half of Whisper Creek Ranch, which should have been all his. These days, Hutch knows there are some things money can't buy: like the heart of loving, ladylike divorcee Kendra Shepherd.
Kendra's quiet mansion reminds her of what she wants most-a devoted husband and the pitter-patter of little feet. She can't get Hutch Carmody out of her mind. But a rough-and-tumble cowboy like Hutch, coming home for family dinner? Seems crazy! Then again, crazier dreams have become reality under the vast Montana sky.
Dear Reader, Welcome to Big Sky Mountain, near the town of Parable, Montana.
Hutch Carmody is as much a part of the land as his favorite hideout, the mountain overlooking Whisper Creek Ranch, his home since birth. With both parents gone, he's the sole owner, and he's determined to keep it that way. After ditching one bride at the altar, he's not in the market for another, but his feelings for former flame Kendra Shepherd aren't so easy to shake off. She's beautiful, she's s.e.xy and she's smart-everything Hutch wants and admires in a woman-but she's already burned him once, running off to England to marry a t.i.tle and a lot of money. Now that she's back in Parable, with a small daughter in tow, he's as jumpy as cold water on a hot griddle.
Kendra, determined to raise her little girl with all the emotional security she didn't have as a child, sees Parable, with its down-home values and salt-of-the-earth folks, as the perfect place to do that. She's not about to complicate matters with a husband, having learned the hard way that she's better off on her own than married. Even if she wanted a man in her life, though, she certainly wouldn't be stupid enough to choose a renegade rancher-cowboy like Hutch.
So what if he makes her heart race like a runaway Thoroughbred?
My very best, Linda Lael Miller.
In loving memory of my cherished beagle-dog, Sadie.
I'm grateful for every second of our eleven years together.
CHAPTER ONE.
A FINE SWEAT broke out between Hutch Carmody's shoulders and his gut warned that he was fixing to stumble straight into the teeth of a screeching buzz saw. The rented tux itched against his hide and his collar seemed to be getting tighter with every flower-scented breath he drew.
The air was dense, weighted, cloying. The small church was overheated, especially for a sunny day in mid-June, and the pews were crammed with eager guests, a few weeping women and a fair number of skeptics.
Hutch's best man, Boone Taylor, fidgeted beside him.
The organist sounded a jarring chord and then launched into a perky tune Hutch didn't recognize. The first of three bridesmaids, all clad in silly-looking pink dresses more suited to little girls than grown women-in his opinion anyhow-drag-stepped her way up the aisle to stand beside the altar, across from him and Boone.
Hutch's head reeled, but he quickly reminded himself, silently of course, that he had to live in this town-his ranch was just a few miles outside of it. If he pa.s.sed out cold at his own wedding, he'd still be getting ribbed about it when he was ninety.
While the next bridesmaid started forward, he did his distracted best to avoid so much as glancing toward Brylee Parrish, his wife to be, who was standing at the back of the church beside her brother, Walker. He knew all too well how good she looked in that heirloom wedding gown of hers, with its billowing veil and dazzling sprinkle of rhinestones.
Brylee was beautiful, with cascades of red-brown hair that tumbled to her waist when she let it down. Her wide-set hazel eyes revealed pa.s.sion, as well as formidable intelligence, humor and a country girl's in-born practicality.
He was a lucky man.
Brylee, on the other hand, was not so fortunate, having hooked up with the likes of him. She deserved a husband who loved her.
Suddenly, Hutch's gaze connected with that of his half brother, Slade Barlow. Seated near the front, next to his very pregnant wife, Joslyn, Slade slowly shook his head from side to side, his expression so solemn that a person would have thought somebody was about to be buried instead of hitched to one of the choicest women Parable County had ever produced.
Hutch's insides churned, then coalesced into a quivering gob and did a slow, backward roll.
The last bridesmaid had arrived.
The minister was in place.
The smell of the flowers intensified, nearly overwhelming Hutch.
And then the first notes of ”Here Comes the Bride” rang out.
Hutch felt the room-h.e.l.l, the whole planet-sway again.
Brylee, beaming behind the thin fabric of her veil, nodded in response to something her brother whispered to her and they stepped forward.
”Hold it,” Hutch heard himself say loudly enough to be heard over the thundering joy of the organ. He held up both hands, like a referee about to call a foul in some fast-paced game. ”Stop.”
Everything halted-with a sickening lurch.
The music died.
The bride and her brother seemed frozen in mid-stride.
Hutch would have sworn the universe itself had stopped expanding.
”This is all wrong,” he went on miserably, but with his back straight and his head up. It wasn't as if he hadn't broached the subject with Brylee before-he'd been trying to get out of this fix for weeks. Just the night before, in fact, he'd sat Brylee down in a vinyl upholstered booth at the Silver Lanes snack bar and told her straight out that he had serious misgivings about getting married and needed some breathing s.p.a.ce.
Brylee had cried, her mascara smudging, her nose reddening at the tip.
”You don't mean it,” she'd said, which was her standard response to any attempt he made to put on the brakes before they both plummeted over a matrimonial cliff. ”You're just nervous, that's all. It's entirely normal. But once the wedding is over and we're on our honeymoon-”
Hutch couldn't stand it when a woman cried, especially when he was the cause of her tears. Like every other time, he'd backed down, tried to convince himself that Brylee was right-he just had cold feet, that was all.
Now, though, ”push” had run smack up against ”shove.”
It was now or never.
He faced Brylee squarely.
The universe unfroze itself, like some big machine with rusted gears, and all h.e.l.l broke loose.
Brylee threw down her bouquet, stomped on it once, whirled on one heel and rushed out of the church. Walker flung a beleaguered and not entirely friendly look in Hutch's direction, then turned to go after his sister.
The guests, already on their feet in honor of the bride, all started talking at once, abuzz with shock and speculation.
Things like this might happen in books or movies, but they didn't happen in Parable, Montana.
Until now, Hutch reflected dismally.
He started to follow Brylee out of the church, not an easy proposition with folks crowding the aisle. He didn't have the first clue what he could say to her, but he figured he had to say something.