The Rancher's Holiday Hope

“Max!” his sister gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. “I apologize for him,” she said to Sierra. “He isn’t usually this rude.”

“I don’t need you to defend me, Mel,” he told his sister. “I did listen to your conversation. But I didn’t mean to. I apologize. And Isaac’s portrayal of me is wrong. Mostly wrong.”

Sierra glared, her hazel-green eyes dancing with fire. He nearly smiled. Instead he opted for contrite, but, man, it was hard to do.

Sierra glanced from him to Isaac. She didn’t say anything and didn’t really need to. Her expression said it all. She was angry, cornered and...beautiful.

“I have to get home to my wife.” Isaac headed for the door. “Godspeed, my friend.”

“Prayers appreciated,” Max joked. Because he’d known Isaac most of his life, he knew that Isaac would never let him be “Max St. James, Tech Tycoon.” With Isaac, he was just Max, number 32 on the Hope High basketball and baseball teams, a decent partner in team roping and someone most parents warned their kids to steer clear of.

“Men!” Melody snorted as Isaac left. “Now, let’s show my brother the venue. He’s going to love it so much, he’ll want to get married here.”

“Oh, are you engaged, Mr. St. James?” Sierra asked, her wide-eyed expression telling him she knew he wasn’t.

“No and I have no intentions of getting married anytime soon. Let’s have a look at the venue and then we can discuss the plans that have already been made.”

Sierra led them through the building that had been built like an overlarge stable. The main area, longer than it was wide and with a cathedral ceiling, was the wedding chapel. What might have been an indoor arena was the reception area. The entire venue was light and airy. Stained glass in the chapel allowed warm, golden light to seep into the large, open room.

Melody talked in great detail about flowers, decorations, food. He tried to focus but it all sounded like she was speaking a foreign language. He’d never expected this from his sister. She’d always been so rational.

He didn’t want to interfere but he had doubts about the fiancé who hadn’t stepped foot on Oklahoma soil in months. According to Melody, he was busy working in California. Max hoped that was the truth.

“What do you think, Sierra?” Melody had hold of the other woman’s arm and he saw Sierra stiffen. But she smiled, as if trying very hard to accommodate his sister’s affectionate nature. “Heart-shaped filet mignon or salmon. Isn’t that perfect?”

Sierra’s face said she thought the idea was anything but perfect.

He swallowed and looked away but not before she gave him a look that begged for assistance. He shrugged but didn’t reply, leaving her to come up with an answer for his sister.

“I think that sounds costly,” Sierra said. “But of course it’s up to you. You’re the bride.”

“I’m paying for this nonsense,” Max inserted. “Why do we need heart-shaped food?”

Melody rolled her eyes. “It isn’t about need, it’s about want.”

“There would be a lot of wasted food,” Sierra informed Melody. “They would have to cut the meat to make the heart shape.”

“Oh, that is a waste. Okay, nothing heart-shaped except the cakes and cookies for the dessert table. And I’d like to do a traditional dance. My grandmother has been teaching me and she feels very strongly that the dance should be done immediately following the ceremony.”

“Traditional dance?” Sierra looked confused.

“Our grandmother is Assyrian,” Melody said over her shoulder as she hurried toward the stairs that led to the loft where the bridal party lounge and dressing rooms were located. The groom and his attendants had a separate building. “Our grandparents came to America in the sixties. They’re our mother’s parents.”

Following close behind his sister, Max walked next to Sierra, noticing her thoughtful expression.

“Our grandmother—we call her Nonni—is still very traditional in many ways,” Max said.

They had reached the top of the stairs and stopped on the wide landing. Sierra unlocked the double doors and motioned them into the bridal suite, which included a large sitting area and windows offering a brief glimpse of Grand Lake.

“Max, come inside, look around.” Melody took hold of his hand and dragged him in.

From the corner of his eye, he caught the expression on Sierra’s face. For a moment, she looked sad. He wondered why.

“We should go now,” Max told his sister. “I’m sure Ms. Lawson has other clients, other things to do. Not that this hasn’t been extremely fun for her.”

“I’m sorry, Sierra, I should have realized...” Melody hugged the wedding planner again. His sister didn’t notice the other woman freeze up. “I’ve just been so excited to show Max everything. I knew he wouldn’t really appreciate the details, but I knew he’d pretend.”

“I’m glad for your sake that he pretended,” Sierra said, putting some distance between her and his sister.

“Okay, we’ll go, now that my brother is properly impressed. But, Sierra, I would like to extend an invitation to you, to participate in some of our pre-wedding activities.”

“Pre-wedding activities?”

Melody walked back down the stairs, staying next to Sierra while Max forged on ahead of them. He knew the look in his sister’s eyes, the one that said she had a plan.

“Yes,” she went on. “We’re sewing a honeymoon blanket. It’s a very old Assyrian tradition and my grandmother insisted. We are all taking part. My mother, grandmother, sister, myself, aunts, cousins. My quilt is patchwork, a little of the old country with the new. If you’ll join us in the next couple of weeks, just bring maybe a scrap of material from an old shirt of yours. I want to make this blanket about the people in my life.”

Sierra opened her mouth as if to object. Max had stopped in the large entry foyer and he watched, waiting for her to come up with an excuse. Not that Melody would accept excuses.

He knew what his sister was up to. She liked the wedding planner, thought she was lonely and in need of someone. And he was that someone. His sister had always been a fixer, even as a child. When he had gone through his destructive teen years, she’d been the one constantly trying to find a way to bring him back to himself. She would plant herself in front of him, demand he stay home and read a book, help her with a school project, anything to try to win him back.

“Melody, it’s time to go.” He motioned her toward the door.

“Don’t get all bossy businessman with me, Maximus St. James.”

Sierra laughed a little.

“And this is why I don’t like to take her places,” he told Sierra. “Time for us to go home, Mel. Nonni is cooking tonight and you know she wants us all there.”

Melody gave Sierra another quick hug. He would have to explain to her that she needed to pay more attention to social cues. Sierra Lawson had a bubble and she didn’t want people stepping inside it.

He was more than willing to respect her wishes even if his little sister wasn’t. He hadn’t come here looking for ties to this community. He’d only come to make amends. Hope, Oklahoma, wasn’t his home anymore. In this small town he still felt the past hanging over his head. Everyone knew his stories.

Except Sierra Lawson.

But he doubted she was curious about him. She had her own stories. Stories she didn’t seem to want to share with anyone.

That was just fine with him.

Chapter Three (#u0d08213f-9aea-5ec2-abd3-29b3791ceb58)

Sierra waited until the church bells rang before she entered the sanctuary and found a seat in the back on Sunday morning. Unfortunately she wasn’t the only one sliding in at the last minute. The doors opened and another latecomer entered.

This time Pastor Stevens noticed. He had just made a few announcements but he paused and smiled.

“I know several visitors are with us today. Why don’t we take a moment to greet our newcomers, and even those you might not have had a chance to shake hands with.”

Sierra groaned.