How to Rope a Real Man by Melissa Cutler

first wedding as a florist.” Always the smart-ass. “You two get the groom’s brother and I’ll see you at the reception hall in a few hours.”
    “Thank you again. Now go forth and updo.” He tossed the phone into the center console and turned left onto the road under the freeway, then back up the ramp in the opposite direction.
    “Wow,” said Jenna. She sat with a rigid spine, blinking hard. “Jake drove. I didn’t see that coming.”
    “Neither did Kellan, by the sound of it. Can’t wait to find out what Jake’s story is as to why he missed his flight.”
    They blasted by the turn-off to the route leading to Santa Fe, headed west toward Albuquerque. Even though Matt’s speedometer read seventy-five, it felt like they were crawling along in comparison to how fast the numbers were clicking higher on the clock. After what felt like ages, they started to climb in elevation. The plants evolved from scrubby bushes to squat, mangy desert trees, and the road grew twisty.
    After they passed the mile marker Kellan had given them for reference, tense silence filled the car as they concentrated on every turnout and shoulder looking for Jake.
    “There he is,” Jenna said as they took a hairpin turn.
    Sure enough, a sporty black coup sat in a turn-out. Matt pulled in behind it. A man who looked like a younger, tougher version of Kellan leaned against the side, two ripped, bulky arms crossed over his chest and a murderous expression carved on his face. His black hair was cropped short, about the same length as the facial hair that was desperately in need of a shave.
    With the black ribbed tank top and nylon workout pants, he looked more MMA fighter than cop, but that look probably came in handy for a SWAT officer. “He looks pissed,” Matt said out of the side of his mouth.
    Jenna chuckled under her breath. “I’ve only met the guy once, but Jake’s always pissed, as far as I can tell. In his defense, it’s nearly a hundred degrees outside. I’d be ticked off too if my car died in the middle of nowhere during the summer heat.”
    Matt opened the door and hopped out. Jenna did the same.
    Jake pushed away from the car and started their way. “Jenna, am I glad to see you. And you must be Matt?”
    “Yeah. Nice to meet you, Jake.” They shook, and Matt’s initial impression of the guy softened. His angry eyes were red-rimmed and sat above dark bags, and his overgrown facial hair looked even scragglier up close. Whatever had led to Jake Reed being stranded on the side of the highway in the middle of New Mexico had to be one doozy of a story. “Grab your stuff and let’s get you into some air-conditioning.”
    A dry, sardonic laugh burst from him. “Jesus, that’s the best thing I’ve heard in days. Thanks for the lift. My piece-of-crap car isn’t used to this kind of heat, I guess.”
    It didn’t look like a piece-of-crap car to Matt. It looked like it might be worth more than Matt’s annual salary, but if it couldn’t last through a twelve-hour drive, maybe it really was a pile of junk under that slick exterior. God knew Matt had met many a lawyer and oil executive in his day who matched that description.
    Jake grabbed a stuffed backpack from his passenger seat and collapsed on the backseat of the SUV. Jenna handed him a fresh water bottle.
    He snapped off the lid and drank deeply. “Kellan said you two were off getting flowers. For the wedding?”
    “I got jilted by the original florist, but Matt’s sister Tara saved our butts,” Jenna said.
    Jake shook his head. “It’s always something, isn’t it? When I got married, the cake lady sent the wrong cake. She sent us this one with strawberry filling and Heather, the girl I was marrying, hated strawberries. We didn’t find out it was wrong inside until we cut it. That was probably a sign, like a bad omen, that Heather and I were doomed.”
    “How long were you married?” Jenna asked.
    Jake broke out in a self-deprecating smile. “We put up with