Bouquets and Buckles: An Age Gap, Snowed In, Cowboy Romance (Crimson Ridge)
Bouquets and Buckles: Chapter 4

Headlights sweep over my vehicle from behind, lighting up the fluffy, white evidence of snowfall that has started coming down thick and fast in the time I’ve sat here waiting for Lucas Rhodes to arrive.

Nearly crawling out of my skin the entire time.

About ten times, I’ve seen something out of the corner of my eye and nearly had a heart attack, thinking that it was Jeremy or his side bitch ready to appear at my window and catch me in the act of lurking down the street.

My pulse thuds a frantic, unsteady beat in my neck. In the rearview, I see a big truck pull up, and the headlights cut off. The driver’s door swings open, boots hit the gathered snow, revealing my every cowboy fantasy and teenage girl obsession who strides through the elements toward me.

Jeans fitted to perfection. High collar weatherproof jacket. Of course, he’s got his requisite Lucas Rhodes felt cowboy hat on his head.

The man is cut straight from a romance novel, and yet somehow has remained single in all the years I’ve known his son.

He even has his own ranch, runs horses, and does cowboy things as and when the other larger properties around here need help.

I quickly brush my hands over my hair to smooth down any strays. Have I got eyeliner running all down my face? God. This is humiliating.

My best friend’s dad has had to come rescue me on Christmas Eve. Would the ground kindly do a gal a solid and swallow me up? Better yet, can I just fast-forward out of this nightmare and wake up in my own bed so this can all be over?

As he draws level with the passenger side, I do a painfully awkward wave and grimace.

He gestures for me to roll the window down, then leans a forearm on the door as he bends to look in on my misery.

“Stay there. Don’t want you catching a cold.” He cuts straight to the point. No smiles, giving me only a display of cheekbones and a short beard to make a girl weep. “Pop your trunk; I’ll get the spare.”

Shiiiiit.

“Um. You’re standing right beside it.” If I hadn’t already cried my eyes out before, I would be tempted now. How could I forget? I had been meaning to replace it since getting a flat just as winter started, only to wind up endlessly run off my feet with the shop. I never got around to it, and now I want to smack myself in the jaw for sounding like the dumbest bitch alive.

“You ain’t carrying a spare?”

I wilt as fast as a dehydrated petal under his dark gaze. His eyes like night study me from beneath the brim of his hat, no doubt chewing silently on my stupidity.

“No. I’m so sorry, Mr. Rhodes. I tried calling Brad after you, and he’s not answering, and I’m…” This is the moment. The moment I run out of words. What am I actually going to do? This town shuts up shop for the holidays, nothing is open, and I’ll bet all of the options for accommodation are displaying No Vacancy signs, thanks to the festive season.

He pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek for a moment. No doubt thinking I’m the human equivalent of a dumpster fire. Meanwhile I’m sitting in the front seat, wearing an outfit that is definitely not appropriate for spending time with a man old enough to be my father.

Hell, he’s friendly with my parents. A little younger than them, but they know each other all the same.

“This your stuff?” He jerks his chin toward the weekender sitting on the backseat.

I nod. Feeling numb and helpless.

“Lock up. Get in the truck.”

Without elaborating, he opens the door, grabs hold of my bag, and then steps back, waiting for me to rediscover how to use my brain. He stands there filling the sidewalk with snow dusting his broad shoulders, white flecks settle against the dark rim of his hat, and doesn’t move.

Meanwhile, I’m stuck in place, not processing what is happening here.

So when the rugged cowboy of my silly little dreams stoops to peer at me through the open window for a second time, my heart zooms around inside my chest at his next words.

“You’re coming home with me.”