Her Montana Christmas Groom

“With any luck it’s in a dark corner behind a plant.”

“You’re overly sensitive. It’s not that much of a difference. You just had a birthday.” He decided it was best not to put a finer point on it with numbers. “And in two months I’ll be a year older. See? We’re practically the same age.”

“Nice try. With hinky math like that it’s a wonder you got into an engineering program at all.” She shot him a rueful look.

Austin followed Rose, mesmerized by the sway of that feminine skirt. There were white cloth-covered tables three deep lining the perimeter of the room with the center open for dancing. Poinsettias in red and white with candles on either side made up the centerpieces. In the far corner, wedding gifts were piled up and there were two bars set up on either side of the room. Austin guided her straight to the closest one.

“I’d like a glass of chardonnay,” she said.

The bartender, in crisp white shirt, red tie and black pants, had dark hair shot with gray. “May I see your ID?”

“What?” she asked.

“Identification,” he repeated. “It’s illegal for me to serve alcohol to anyone under twenty-one.”

“I’m way over that,” she assured him.

“Okay, but I need to see some proof of that.” His tone was polite and professional.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No.” He didn’t budge.

“He’s a friend of yours,” she said to Austin, suspicion lurking in her eyes. “You put him up to this. It’s a practical joke.”

“I’ve never met him before,” he assured her, giving the guy a what-are-you-going-to-do shrug.

She blew out a breath, then opened her tiny beaded black evening bag, pulled out her driver’s license and handed it over.

The bartender checked the date and looked surprised. “Wow, I’m usually not that wrong.”

“And I haven’t worked that hard for an alcoholic beverage since… Actually ever.”

“Did you even try to get a drink before you were old enough?” Austin asked.

“No.”

“Good thing.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve probably always looked about twelve.”

“Thanks, I think.” She took a sip of the pale gold liquid.

“What’ll you have?” the bartender asked him.

“Beer. Bottle is fine.”

“Coming right up.”

“Hey,” she said to the bartender. “How come you didn’t ask him for ID?”

The guy grinned. “Because I can tell by looking that he’s legal.”

Austin saluted a thanks with his bottle and they walked across the open dance floor to find their table. Rose was frowning and clearly in a snit.

“What’s bugging you, Red?” he asked.

“Like you don’t know,” she grumbled.

“I’ve always looked older.” He shrugged. “It’s why I was able to get a tattoo when I was under age.”

“No way.”

“Yeah.” He took a sip of his beer. “It’s a beaut, too.”

“Where is it? Show me.”

“That would require undressing—”

She slid him a wry look and shook her head.

Too bad. He would very much like to undress her and see if she had more freckles on the curvy body under her lace and velvet dress. She was really stubborn about the age thing and if he was as smart as everyone thought, he’d throw in the towel. The problem was, he liked her. She was a real firecracker and it had nothing to do with the color of her hair.

Austin was inclined to hang in for a while and see if he could fire her up.

After dinner, Rose sat alone at the table watching couples on the dance floor. Until a few minutes ago she and Austin were one of them and she’d really liked the feel of his arms around her. Then his sister Angie had commandeered him for the chicken dance. What wedding was complete without that?

Everyone seemed to be having a great time. What was not to like? The whole event had lived up to its advance billing as the social affair of the year. It was completely enchanting. This room looked as magical as the resort’s transformed lobby with twinkling lights wrapped around bare white branches and the poinsettias added a touch of red. The brides were perfect and perfectly happy with their hunky, handsome grooms.

It was the ultimate romantic fantasy and Rose was having serious doubts about her own ever coming true. Of course her brother Jackson chose that moment to sit down beside her. His fiancée, Laila Cates, pulled out the chair next to his.

“Hey, sis.”

“Hey, yourself. Hi, Laila.”

“Hi, Rose.” The other woman smiled. “Love the dress.”

She appreciated the compliment, but it didn’t lift her spirits. How she longed to rest her head on her big brother’s strong shoulder, but he wouldn’t understand. Besides the fact that he was a guy’s guy, he’d found the love of his life. Blonde, blue-eyed and beautiful, Laila looked like she’d stepped off a page of People magazine. And handsome Jackson, with his dark hair and eyes, could be in the movies if he wasn’t doing community outreach and public relations work for Traub Oil Montana.

“You look really pretty tonight,” Laila added.

Rose smiled at the woman who would be her sister-in-law. “I might have had a shot at mildly attractive until you sat down.”

“Oh, please.” She waved off the compliment.

Jackson’s dark brown eyes glowed with pride and love when he looked at her. “My sister is right.”