Page 31 of Wicked Cowboy

He smirks. “I thought you were the glamour.”

Martha hums from the stove. “She’s that, too.”

I grin at him, trying and failing not to blush. We’re supposed to be finalizing seating charts, but mostly, we’ve been laughing our way through the morning. Luke’s somewhere outside wrangling extension cords for the lighting tests. I can already hear him singing off-key through the frosted window.

“Tell me again why we’re doing this at Christmas?” Rhett asks, wrapping an arm around my waist as I lean against him.

“Because you proposed with a pumpkin,” I say. “And after I said yes, you made me promise to get married quickly.”

“Oh, yeah,” he says, pressing a kiss to my hair.

Before I can tease him, the front door swings open, bringing a rush of cold air, snow, and Luke’s voice. “All right, folks, brace yourselves. The wedding planner’s here, and she brought blueprints.”

I arch a brow. “Blueprints?”

“She said the word flow.I got scared.”

“Be nice,” Martha scolds, even though she’s smiling. “Let the woman do her job.”

Luke steps aside, and in walks a woman who could probably lead an army. She’s striking, with long red hair, sharp hazel eyes, a black wool coat that probably costs more than my car, and the confident energy of someone who knows their worth. She’s juggling a thermos, a tablet, and a binder thicker than a dictionary.

“Hi!” she says, all professional brightness. “Sorry for the early start. I wanted to see how the light hits the barn before noon, it’ll help with layout and floral design.”

“That’s dedication,” Rhett murmurs under his breath.

“Heroic,” Luke says.

The redhead turns toward him, meeting his grin with one of her own. “You must be Luke Carson.”

He sweeps off his hat with a mock bow. “Depends who’s asking.”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Holly Jameson. Event planner. I’m here to make sure this wedding doesn’t turn into a Christmas pageant with livestock.”

“Now hold on,” Luke says, feigning offense. “That was my one creative suggestion.”

She laughs, a clear, bright sound that makes even Martha glance over her shoulder, impressed. “As long as you understand there is no way that’s happening, we’re going to get along just fine.”

I watch the exchange with thinly disguised delight. Rhett leans in, murmuring, “You’re seeing this too, right?”

“Oh, absolutely,” I whisper back. “He’s already doomed.”

Holly sets her planner on the table and flips it open to a page labeledBrush Creek Wedding Timeline. Every line is color-coded. She’s clearly the kind of woman who can make miracles out of mayhem.

“All right,” she says briskly, business mode engaged. “The theme is rustic mountain Christmas meets cozy romance. Think candlelight, evergreen, gold accents—”

“Not gold,” I interrupt automatically.

She nods without missing a beat. “Then champagne tones. Classic and warm.”

Luke props his hip against the counter, arms crossed, watching her talk with a half-smile that’s one part admiration, one part trouble. “Do you always come this prepared, or are we just lucky?”

“Preparedness is my love language,” she replies. “And yes, you’re lucky.”

Martha chuckles from the stove. “Careful, dear. That one flirts like it’s a full-time job.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Holly says, eyes twinkling. “But I don’t mix work and flirtation.”

“Shame,” Luke says, voice all smooth mischief. “I bet you’re great at multi-tasking.”