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last single one of us. We’re just going to help you cut loose, so you can move forward and slay as many single men as you want.”
    Callie shook her head. “I am not going anywhere with you dressed like that. You can just forget it.”
    “Oh, come on. It’s all in fun,” Kathie urged.
    “Slay men? I don’t slay men.” Callie shook her head. “Nope. I’ll leave right now if you plan on wearing those stupid things. You might as well have shirts that say, Please help us find a man for my loser friend .”
    “First of all, you’re definitely not a loser.” Kathie whipped her shirt off. “Second of all, this is definitely not a man-seeking mission. This is just the opposite.”
    Christine and Bonnie took off their shirts and tossed them on the bed. All three of them now stood in their bras and jeans with their hands on their hips, like Charlie’s Angels without the guns.
    “This is a confidence-building mission so you can take Trusty, Colorado, by storm,” Kathie explained.
    “Yeah. Then you can go after Mr. Hottie…What’s his name again?” Bonnie asked. She picked up her camera and clicked off a shot of the pile of T-shirts. “Gotta have memories.”
    “Wes. Wes Braden.” Her stomach fluttered as she said his name.
    Charlie’s Angels shared another glance that made Callie sweat. “Oh no. What?”
    A loud bell rang in the distance, and Christine gasped. “Calling all fillies! That’s the dinner bell. We gotta get dressed, and, Callie, you haven’t showered. Hurry.”
    She ushered Callie toward the bathroom.
     
    THE RUSTIC LODGE was made of logs and stone, with exposed-beam ceilings, hardwood floors, and wooden railings that led up to the guest rooms. The Woodlands had a small staff, including a receptionist, a housekeeper who also helped bartend, a barn manager, and two ranch hands who assisted on outings, cooked, took care of the animals and the ranch, and pitched in just about anywhere they were needed.
    Wes greeted a young couple by tipping his Stetson. He amped up the Western hospitality that folks from out of town loved so much. Howdy, ma’am. Yes, sir. Y’all enjoying your stay? Then he headed out to the barbecue area by the barn to meet the women he’d be guiding over the next few days. As he crossed the lawn toward the barn, with the sun setting behind the mountains and Sweets trotting by his side, his mind drifted to Callie.
    He wondered what she was doing at the spa with her friends. He imagined her dressed primly, sitting poolside and drinking froufrou cocktails. He wondered if she wore a bikini or a one-piece bathing suit. He’d bet his bottom dollar on the one-piece, given all those tiny buttons that ran up the center of the blouse she’d had on that morning. His mind immediately retrieved the image of her nipples becoming taut peaks beneath the sheer white material of her blouse. He had to stop thinking of her like that. She was definitely not the kind of girl who would want him to rip those buttons off with his teeth. He stifled his desirous thoughts as he came to the picnic area.
    The twelve-foot barbecue pit was built of indigenous rock at the base of a hill on the east side of the entertainment barn, where the barn dances were held. Wes spotted four women talking to Cutter Long, the barn manager. At twenty-eight, Cutter had a youthful face and a rich tan. In his leather chaps and Woodlands T-shirt, with a perpetually unshaven face, piercing blue eyes, and pitch-black hair he wore a little long, women flocked to him. Wes shook his head at the common sight. The employees knew how he felt about hooking up with guests, and as far as he knew, they respected that thin gray line.
    Wes joined Butch Armstrong, one of the ranch hands, by the barbecue pit.
    “Hey. Butch. How’s it going?” Butch had worked for Wes for six years, since his wife of thirty-seven years passed away. He’d since sold his property in a neighboring town and moved to the lodge full-time. Butch was