How to Rope a Real Man Read Online Free PDF

turning desperate. “She can’t pull out now. The wedding’s tomorrow.”
    “I know that, sweetie.”
    “She should have called you hours ago.”
    “I know that too.” Her smile was serpentine, her voice low and tight. “And I fully plan on shoving those stargazers up Philomena’s you-know-what where they won’t ever see the stars again, but that’s going to have to wait until after I’ve thrown my sister the most beautiful, most perfect wedding Catcher Creek has ever seen.”
    Kellan cursed and turned away to stare at the wall like he was thinking about kicking a hole in it.
    Matt tried a smile on for size and attempted to lend some perspective to the crisis. “It’s not like the reception hall burned down or something catastrophic. They’re just flowers, right?”
    Until that moment, standing before Jenna, Matt wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the full capacity of a woman’s wrath. It made him take a few cautionary steps back in case she burst into flames right there in the middle of the Sarsaparilla Saloon.
    Her eyes got small. Beneath her dusting of freckles, her skin turned pink. She rose up to her full height, then higher still, as if anger were a substance lighter than air, making her body levitate.
    “For your information, all Amy wanted—her only request—was a wedding filled to bursting with flowers. We planned for flowers lining the pews and altar at the ceremony, bouquets, boutonnieres, and corsages for the bridal party”—with each word, her body levitated higher—“flower centerpieces for the tables at the reception, topping the limousine, topping the cake, and fashionably nestled in her updo. Think of her updo, Matt!”
    Matt didn’t know what an updo was, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to ask. He looked to Kellan for rescue, but he was still drilling a hole in the wall with his eyes. Turning his focus back to Jenna, Matt held up a finger like a timid kid hoping the teacher would call on him to speak.
    She didn’t.
    “It’s nine o’clock on a Friday night, the wedding is eighteen hours away, and Catcher Creek is smack in the middle of Bumfuck, Egypt!”
    Those were all valid points, but Matt knew something she didn’t. Something that had a high certainty of fixing the problem. “Take a breath, Jenna. I have a solution.”
    Kellan’s head whipped their way, his eyes pleading, but Jenna was unconvinced. She wagged a finger in warning. “This better not be more of your glass-half-full optimistic bull—”
    He wrapped one hand around her finger and the other over her lips. “My sister Tara is a florist.”
    Could’ve been another optical illusion, but she seemed to drop her boots back to solid ground. Even her expression relaxed a shade. He shoved his hands in his pockets lest he was tempted to pull her closer and help her relax even more.
    “Where?” Kellan asked.
    “Santa Fe. If we left right now and called her from the road, we’d get there in under three hours.”
    Jenna flattened her hand against Matt’s chest, breathing and blinking. “Three hours is midnight. She’d have to work through the night to make enough flower arrangements, and that’s if she has the flowers to spare. That’s a lot to ask of anyone. I mean, she doesn’t even know Amy.”
    His heart rate sped up at her touch and he wondered if she could feel it pounding. He took a breath, pushing his ribs into her palm. “When I tell her how important this is, I guarantee she won’t even blink. She’s family. Besides that, Tara owes me. Big-time.”
    Finally, Jenna met his eyes. Her lips twitched and then spread into a smile, her expression no longer panicked, but amused and maybe a little awed. “You’re going to save me, aren’t you?”
    He wrapped a strand of her wavy blond hair around his finger, then let it spring away. “I’m going to try.”
    Shaking her head, she fiddled with his shirt collar. “This is unbelievable. What’re the odds you have a florist in your family?”
    Matt rocked on