The Rancher's Mistletoe Bride Read online

  Coming Home for Christmas

  Wedding planner Lexi Harrington needs a manager for her inherited Wyoming ranch. Clint Romine is the perfect man for the job, but the ruggedly handsome cowboy soon presents a new dilemma—distraction. Lexi can’t fall for a small-town rancher when she’s planning to return to her big-city career after the holidays. Home has always been elusive for former foster kid Clint. Working alongside Lexi at Rock Step Ranch feels too cozy—and too risky. Opening up to her means revealing a secret about his past that could jeopardize everything he holds dear. This Christmas, can Clint learn to trust Lexi with the truth...and with his heart?

  “I saved the best for last.” Lexi held out a straw cowboy hat. “It’s the tree topper.”

  Clint laughed. “I might not know much about decorating, but isn’t it supposed to be a star?”

  “Not on a cowboy Christmas tree. The hat is the finishing touch.”

  Clint smiled and sidled up next to her, gently taking the ornament from her hand and placing it at the top of the tree.

  They stepped back to survey their work. With the colored lights, cowboy ornaments and red bandanas tied here and there, it represented him and all he stood for. Something shifted inside him. Softened his heart.

  It was his first Christmas tree, and it suited him perfectly. And it was all because of Lexi.

  She turned to him, holding up her hand. “Nice work.”

  He high-fived her, wanting to express how much this day meant to him, but not knowing how.

  “Come on. Pumpkin pie is waiting for us.”

  Pumpkin pie, Christmas decorating, laughter and music? He’d better not get used to this; it would be gone all too soon.

  Jill Kemerer writes novels with love, humor and faith. Besides spoiling her mini dachshund and keeping up with her busy kids, Jill reads stacks of books, lives for her morning coffee and gushes over fluffy animals. She resides in Ohio with her husband and two children. Jill loves connecting with readers, so please visit her website, jillkemerer.com, or contact her at PO Box 2802, Whitehouse, OH 43571.

  Books by Jill Kemerer

  Love Inspired

  Wyoming Cowboys

  The Rancher’s Mistletoe Bride

  Small-Town Bachelor

  Unexpected Family

  Her Small-Town Romance

  Yuletide Redemption

  Hometown Hero’s Redemption

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  THE RANCHER’S

  MISTLETOE BRIDE

  Jill Kemerer

  Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.

  —Philippians 2:3–4

  For Rachel Kent. This book wouldn’t be here without you. I’m thankful for you every day.

  For Pen to Paper, the first writing group I ever joined. Jan and Patricia, your gentleness and knowledge were instrumental to my growth. Thank you.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from An Alaskan Christmas by Belle Calhoune

  Chapter One

  He hadn’t ranched in four years, but the tug of cowboy life always beckoned.

  Clint Romine slowed his truck to study the magnificent property splayed before him. Well-maintained fences lined the perimeter and divided areas for rotating stock. Acres of grazing land, fields for hay production, barns, cabins, outbuildings, paddocks—all appeared neat and orderly and only a ten-minute drive from Sweet Dreams, Wyoming. Rock Step Ranch was everything a cattle ranch should be. And more. If Clint’s interview went well, he’d be in charge of this entire outfit.

  Unease slithered down his neck. Was he fit to manage it?

  His mistake haunted him. A slip in his judgment. The death of a dream. But owning a ranch wasn’t the same as being hired to manage one. Four years ago, he’d had everything to lose. And now? There was nothing left for him to lose. He’d already lost it all.

  Clint drove into a gravel lot near the barn and paddocks, cut the engine, and stepped out. Mountains stood proudly in the distance, and the wind held the bite of early November. Cowboys shouted from the cutting pen. Looked like they were weaning calves. He longed to slap on his chaps and join them.

  After watching for a few minutes, he checked the time and forced himself to stride toward the main house. A two-story log home with a covered porch, a pair of rocking chairs and a faded mat greeted him. Before he knocked, he paused to pray.

  Lord, I’ve made mistakes. I don’t deserve my own land. But if You’ll give me the opportunity to manage this operation, I’ll try not to let You or the ranch down.

  Clint stretched himself to his full height and rapped twice on the door. It opened almost immediately, and he stared into light brown eyes the color of the pronghorns he often saw bounding across the land.

  Alexandra Harrington had grown into a beautiful woman.

  He wasn’t in her league—had never been in her league. When he’d found out she was the one hiring, he’d been concerned about working for his former classmate. Attraction complicated the employer/employee relationship. When he’d worked on LFR Ranch, a cowboy had been fired for flirting with the owner’s daughter. But now that he’d seen Alexandra, his fears disappeared. A smart, successful, stunning woman like her was out of reach for a working guy like him. Not that he needed to worry about it. Rumor had it you had to spend time with a woman, get to know her, to have a shot at dating her. He had no intention of spending time with her, let alone dating her.

  “Thanks for coming, Clint.” She ushered him inside, and once he’d taken off his outerwear, he followed her down a hallway to a large living room with views of the river. The hardwood floors were in bad shape. Scratched. Faded. Three rocks were missing from the stone fireplace climbing the wall to the ceiling. From somewhere nearby, the drip, drip of a faucet fought to override the sound of a ripped screen flapping against a window. Even the air had the stale tang of neglect.

  Strange that the outbuildings, fences and property were in top-notch order, but this house had been allowed to fall apart.

  He turned his attention to the woman he recognized from high school. Still slim in dark jeans and an oversize white sweater. Long, dark brown waves spilled over her shoulders. Her pale face held high cheekbones, full eyebrows and thin pink lips. But Alexandra wore sad the way he wore regret—it permeated her, surrounded her—and he had the strongest urge to take it from her. Which was a laugh, since he had no idea how. He’d never been around many women and probably never would be.

  He did know what it was like to suddenly have no family, though. Her father had died three weeks ago. She had every right to be sad.

  She took a seat on an old tan couch, motioning for him to sit opposite her, and he obliged, his cowboy hat in his hand
s.

  “Dottie Lavert mentioned you might be interested in managing the ranch for me.” Her words were quiet but firm. “As you know, Daddy died unexpectedly, and I need someone here sooner rather than later.”

  He nodded, not knowing what to think of the way she was fingering the bottom edge of her sweater. Was she nervous? No. This was Alexandra Harrington. Vice president of their senior class, organizer of proms and dances and who knew what else.

  “I remember you from high school,” she said. “You worked on a ranch then, too, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” He was surprised she remembered him at all. His one goal in high school had been to be as invisible as possible. As a teen, he’d poured all his energy into keeping his spot at Yearling Group Home for teen boys. The Laverts had been hired to run the group foster home. Back then, Big Bob Lavert kept the boys in line while his wife, Dottie, cooked their meals, made sure they did their homework and accompanied them to church. Too bad Yearling had shut down several years ago. It had helped a lot of kids like him who had nowhere else to go.

  “From your résumé, I see you’ve been working for the oil company.” She smiled, her expression open, expectant. “And before that you worked on LFR Ranch.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Call me Lexi.”

  Lexi? He couldn’t call her Lexi. Couldn’t even think of her as Lexi. Too familiar, too accessible. Alexandra had the right amount of remoteness for his liking.

  “I learned about calving, grazing, hay production, keeping the books and maintaining the property from my years at LFR.” He paused, unsure how much more to tell her. If he confessed how he’d left LFR and then been duped out of his own tiny piece of Wyoming, she’d boot him right out the door. And if he admitted he’d spent four years avoiding working on a ranch because it had hurt too much to be surrounded by what he’d lost, she’d think he was crazy. “I’ve been working for the oil company for four years now.”

  She picked up the top paper from a stack on the end table next to her. “Yes, I see you were promoted three times in as many years. Impressive.”

  Impressive? Him? If she only knew... He hoped she didn’t ask about the six months between LFR Ranch and the oil company. If asked outright, he wouldn’t lie to her. And he didn’t want to return to his mind-numbing job.

  “I need someone I can depend on to do all the things my father did. I own a wedding planning company in Denver. I’ve already told my employees I’ll be living in Wyoming at least until Christmas. To put it simply, my business takes all of my time. If running my company from here proves too difficult, I’ll have to move back to Colorado. In that case, I’d come to the ranch once a month or so. I need someone here who is self-motivated. Someone who can delegate work to the ranch hands. Someone I can trust.”

  Could she trust him? Did he trust himself?

  She continued. “The next question might seem forward, but I have to know. Do you drink?”

  “No.”

  She narrowed her eyes, her lips pursing, clearly unconvinced.

  “I’ve seen what it does to people and have no desire to try it.” He held her gaze. “I like to be in complete control of my faculties. At all times. I’ll take a drug test if you’d like.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” She massaged the back of her neck. She looked tired. More than tired. Exhausted. “You’re not the first person to be considered for this position. I hired a man last week who had a problem with the hard stuff. What a disaster he turned out to be. Daddy’s right-hand man, Jerry Cornell—you’ll meet him in a little while—found him at noon on Saturday still lit out of his mind, sitting in the river in his drawers when he should have been working. When I called him into the office, he had the nerve to tell me not to worry my ‘purdy’ little head about it. Needless to say, I had to let him go.” She got to her feet and started pacing. “He’s fortunate he didn’t get hypothermia.”

  Clint strangled the hat between his hands. He’d worked with plenty of cowboys who drank too much. The fact one of them would disrespect her made him want to rope the jerk up.

  She spun to face him, chin high. “This is my home. The only thing left of my childhood and my parents. I have ranch hands and their families depending on me for their income. If keeping this operation profitable and in tip-top shape isn’t your number-one priority, you will not work here. It’s that simple. And, in case I didn’t make it clear, I have the final say in all ranch decisions.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He could keep a ranch in tip-top shape. But profitable? He’d made a bad financial choice years ago. What if he made one again?

  She sighed then, her body sagging as if someone had let the air out of her. “I’ll take you out to meet Jerry. He’ll show you around and feed you lunch. When you’re done, come back up here and we’ll talk.”

  Good. She was a take-charge woman unafraid to be his boss. The firmer the line between employee and employer, the better. As long as he made wise decisions concerning the cattle, he could spend his days doing what he loved best—living the cowboy life.

  Working for the prettiest girl he’d ever laid eyes on.

  Living the single cowboy life.

  Pretty or not, no woman would want a man who’d been stupid enough to get swindled out of the one thing he’d ever wanted—a ranch of his own.

  * * *

  “Well, Jerry, what do you think?” Lexi sat on a stool in the ranch manager’s office adjoining the stables. The room smelled of dirt, large animals and burned coffee. Everywhere she looked, she found clutter of the male kind. Ropes, broken bridles, spray cans full of who knew what, stained papers and tools. Her office in Denver was painted the pale pink of a rose petal and smelled of magnolias. She missed it.

  Which brought her back to the three-week-old question...why was she still here? After the funeral, she’d packed her suitcase with every intention of driving back to her life in Denver. She hadn’t made it off the property before turning around, filled with the sensation she was deserting the place, the same way she’d deserted her father to focus on expanding her company.

  Where did she belong? Here with her memories or back in the city with Weddings by Alexandra?

  “Clint’s a good ’un, Miss Lexi.” The wire-thin man scratched his chin and scanned Clint’s résumé. “His former bosses paint him as a fine man.”

  She thought as much, too, but it was reassuring to hear it from Jerry. She tapped a pen against her chin. “Any reason you can think of why I shouldn’t hire him?”

  “Nope.” He rolled the paper and smacked it on the plywood counter.

  Taking it from Jerry, she uncurled it. Perused it once more. “What about the gap between jobs? It was four years ago, but...”

  Jerry shook his head. “A lot of cowboys have periods they can’t account for.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Ah...well...these are lonely parts up here in this blessed country. You know those wild horses that run wild through the north property now and again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Some cowboys are like those horses. They don’t like to be fenced in. Something snaps, and they leave. Could be due to a lady. Could be a sense they need to move on.”

  Clint was the wild horse in this scenario, but he seemed quiet, steady. She bit her tongue. She’d been listening to Jerry’s parables her entire life, and they tended to meander.

  “Now some of the boys take their savings and go off and live awhile. Figure things out. Get close to the land and their maker...”

  It made sense. Everyone needed time to figure life out now and then. Wasn’t that what she herself was doing?

  “...but the restlessness clears up, and they settle down right fine.”

  She hopped off the stool. “Okay, Jerry, I’ll take your word for it. Send him up to the house when Logan brings him back.”
/>   “Will do.” He gave her a nod. “Oh, and Miss Lexi?”

  “Yes?”

  “The Florida fella called again. Wants to know if he can count on us for hay next winter.”

  Lexi tucked her hair behind her ear. One of her father’s pet projects had been to start growing high-quality hay to sell to horse farms and other large-animal breeders across the nation. He’d built the new storage barn in the spring and begun negotiations with various buyers. But the drought conditions coupled with low calf prices last year prevented him from purchasing the necessary equipment to produce the square bales. Putting up high-quality hay had been postponed until next summer.

  “I don’t know the answer. It will depend on the price we get for this year’s calves.”

  “I’ll call him and tell him we’ll know more in a few months.”

  “Thanks, Jerry.” She left the office, savoring the fresh air as she headed back to her house. Between the ranch and her business, there seemed to be an endless list of problems. For weeks, Lexi’s assistant, Jolene Day, had been texting her every three minutes with an urgent crisis. Two clients had called earlier with major changes to their weddings, and the invitations Lexi had ordered two months ago were still on back order.

  And then there was the ranch. Daddy had been the spine of this operation, and without him? If she didn’t find a take-charge manager, she would have to sell Rock Step Ranch. She couldn’t manage both, and she’d rather have someone else own it than let Daddy’s legacy fade to ruins.

  Just thinking about selling made her nauseous. This was her home. Her memories.

  As she reached the path leading to her house, a gust of wind blew her scarf across her face, and she swept it back. Clint seemed to be the perfect candidate for manager, but if she were brutally honest with herself, he presented a new dilemma. One he couldn’t help.

  He was gorgeous.

  And tall. Solid muscle. Quiet.

  The gorgeous part was the problem.