Copyright August 2024 by Katie Lane

  Cover Design & Interior Layout by The Killion Group

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the writer’s imagination. All rights reserved. Scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of this book without the permission of the author is unlawful piracy and theft. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at katie@katielanebooks.com Thank you for respecting this author’s hard work and livelihood.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Sneak Peek!

  Also by Katie Lane

  About the Author

  To my hero. I thank God for you everyday.

  Prologue

  Whoever said you couldn’t drown your sorrows in alcohol was wrong.

  After three beers and an equal amount of tequila shots, Jace Carson was feeling no pain. In fact, he was feeling quite content. He figured more alcohol would make him feel even better. A few minutes later, Jace had another beer and a shot of tequila in front of him. He toasted the bartender who had brought them.

  “To good women, good times, and good bartenders.” He downed the tequila before chasing it with a swig of beer.

  The bartender, who looked too young to be serving liquor, smiled. “So what’s your story, man?”

  “My story?”

  “Yeah. There are all different types that walk through these doors. Some come in because they’re lonely and looking to hook up or just share a drink with other lonely people. Some come in to watch sporting events without screaming kids or nagging wives. And some people come in to get drunk and forget about their problems. Since you haven’t hit on that hot woman at the end of the bar or glanced once at the baseball game on the television, I’m going to say you’re here to forget.”

  Jace lifted his beer in a silent salute. “Smart man.” As he took a drink of beer, he couldn’t help glancing down the bar at the woman. It showed how preoccupied he’d been with drowning his sorrows that he hadn’t noticed her.

  She wore a flat-brimmed western hat—the kind country singer Lainey Wilson wore. The hat, combined with the dim lighting, kept Jace from seeing her face, but he could see the wealth of wheat-colored hair that hung in golden waves well past the edge of the bar.

  He’d always been a sucker for long, blond hair.

  He lowered his glass and smiled at the bartender. “Although hot women work just as well at making you forget your troubles.” He started to get up, but the bartender stopped him.

  “You might want to think twice about trying for that one. She’s already turned down two guys . . . and harshly. When I brought her the beer she ordered, she took one sip and informed me it was the worst shit she’d ever tasted. After that, she’s been ordering tequila shots. I think she’s got some troubles of her own.”

  Jace smiled. “Then we’re a match made in heaven . . . or maybe hell.” He grabbed his beer and got to his feet. The room wobbled a little. He took a moment to steady himself before he carefully made his way to the other end of the bar.

  The woman didn’t even glance over when he took a seat next to her.

  This close, he could see the profile of the lower half of her face that wasn’t shadowed by the hat. The bartender was right. She was hot. Not in a made-up metropolitan way, but in a fresh country girl way. No makeup covered the freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her button nose. No lipstick concealed the pouty mouth that begged for a good kissing.

  Below the neck was the same. She hadn’t dressed to entice. And yet, Jace was enticed by the way the well-washed T-shirt with the beer logo on the front stretched over her full breasts and the way her soft denim jeans hugged a curvy butt that would fit real nice in his hands. Cowboy boots finished off her outfit. Not the designer kind most girls wore to a bar. These boots were scuffed and well worn. He could easily picture them hooked in the stirrups of a saddle . . . or wrapped around his waist.

  But before he could start flirting his way into her bed, she spoke.

  “I’m not interested, cowboy. So please don’t waste your time coming up with some ridiculous pickup line. Believe me, I’ve heard them all.”

  “All of them?” Jace squinted at the firm set of her jaw. “Really? So you’ve heard . . . ‘You know what you’d look beautiful in? My arms,’ and ‘I love my bed, but I’d rather be in yours.’ Or what about ‘This might sound cheesy, but I think you’re grate.’ Get it? G-r-a-t-e. Grate. Or my favorite, ‘I’d give up my morning cereal to spoon with you instead.’”

  A husky laugh burst out of her pouty lips. The kind of laugh that made a man think of cool bedsheets and hot naked skin. “I’m still not interested, but the last one wasn’t half bad.”

  Her comment gave Jace the motivation to keep flirting, but his next words got stuck in his throat when she turned to him. He was drunk, but not drunk enough to ignore the ping of recognition that went off in his brain.

  He’d met this woman before.

  He stared at her and tried to blink away the blurring at the edge of his vision. “Do I know you?”

  She laughed that husky laugh. “Now that is the worst pickup line ever.”

  “No, I’m serious. I think we’ve met before.”

  She sobered and reached out to tip up his cowboy hat. Her lips parted on a startled inhalation of breath. “Jace . . . Jace Carson.”

  He tried to figure out how he knew her. Seeing as how he was already physically attracted to her, he figured they’d hooked up before. If he couldn’t remember her name, that wouldn’t be good.

  “Uhh . . . hey.”

  A smirk lifted the corners of her kissable mouth. “You don’t recognize me, do you?” She placed a hand on her chest. “I’m heartbroken. And here I thought you and I had a lifelong connection since I pretty much have known you since I was in diapers.” She tipped up her own hat to reveal eyes the color of a freshly mowed high school football field. Jace felt like a three-hundred-pound tackle had sacked him on that field.

  He knew the color of these eyes.

  They had haunted his dreams since he was fourteen years old.

  Sweetie Holiday had been his high school sweetheart and the only woman he’d ever loved. When she had broken up with him their senior year, he’d been devastated. But he’d dealt with the pain and gotten over her . . . until she’d gone and fallen in love with his cousin. Then all those feelings of not being good enough had resurfaced and he was still struggling to come to terms with the fact that Decker was able to hold on to Sweetie when he couldn’t.

  Although that seemed to be the story of Jace’s life.

  He struggled to hold on to anything he loved deeply.

  Sweetie.

  Football.

  His father.

  “You still with me, Jace?”

  He blinked out of his daze and stared at the woman sitting next to him. Same color of eyes. But different girl.

  Sweetie’s little sister.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. “How are you, Teeny Weeny?”

  The smile turned into a mean scowl. “That has to be the worst nickname ever.”

  “Would you rather I call you by your real name . . . Halloween Holiday?”

  “Not unless you want your balls relocated into your ears. I prefer Hallie and, after knowing me for most of my life, you damn well know it.”

  “I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop calling you Teeny Weeny—not when you won the hot dog eating contest when you were only ten years old. I still can’t believe you put away eleven wienies without throwing up.”

  “Oh, I threw up. But only after I got my blue ribbon.”

  He laughed again. It felt good. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed without forcing it. He sobered and studied her. Hallie had definitely outgrown the nickname. She was no longer the feisty little tomboy who used to follow him all over the Holiday Ranch giving him pointers on how to win the next high school football game. She was a beautiful woman.

  Although she was still feisty.

  “Damn, you look like hell,” she said. “Is that scruffy thing on your face supposed to be a beard?”

  He ran a hand over his whiskered jaw. “I misplaced my razor and just haven’t bought a new one.” It was a lie. The truth was he just didn’t care about shaving . . . or anything, really.

  “You know they sell razors online and ship them right to your house. It’s the wonder of online shopping. And speaking of houses, don’t tell me you live here in Austin now.”

  He knew whatever he shared with Hallie would be shared with Sweetie and her four other sisters—who would then share it with the rest of the Holidays and subsequently the entire town of Wilder, Texas. While everyone at home probably already knew about his career-ending injury, he didn’t want them knowing about his pathetic attempt to keep playing football.

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  “No. I don’t live here. I’m just passing through. What are you doing here?”

  “I live just a few blocks away.”

  “And you always stop by for shitty beer and tequila?”

  A defeated look settled over her face. He understood the look well. “It’s been one helluva day.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I get it. Although it’s been more of a helluva year for me.”

  A mischievous twinkle entered her green eyes. “Then maybe I should buy you a drink.”

  Chapter One

  Hallie Holiday hated bridesmaids’ dresses as much as she hated anyone calling her by her given name.

  Or maybe not that much.

  Being stuck with the name Halloween was much worse than being stuck in an uncomfortable dress that barely covered her behind. Years ago, she would have legally changed her name if she hadn’t thought it would break her mama’s heart.

  Darla Holiday took great pride in having six daughters named after the holidays they were born on—or closest to. Sweetheart, Clover, Liberty, Belle, and Noelle had just been lucky enough to be born around holidays with normal girls’ names. Although Hallie had always thought that if her parents had just put a little time and effort into it, they could have come up with something better than Halloween. Mystic. Cat. Even Pumpkin.

  No, maybe not Pumpkin.

  “Hallie! Would you stop daydreaming and help me with my dress?”

  Hallie pulled from her thoughts and turned to her little sister. While Hallie had gotten their daddy’s wheat-colored hair and freckles, Noelle had gotten their mama’s black hair and Snow White complexion. Unfortunately, her temperament wasn’t nearly as sweet as Mama’s or Snow’s. Being the youngest, Noelle had always been a bit spoiled and temperamental.

  “Hurry up, Hal! I still need to fix my hair and do my makeup.”

  Hallie walked across the room they had shared as kids to help her sister. “What are you talking about, Elle? You just fixed your hair and makeup.”

  “I need to do some touch-ups before I do my social media post showcasing the wedding cake I made for Belle and Liberty. And you need to film me.”

  Noelle was studying to be a pastry chef at a culinary school in Dallas. Her dream was to become a famous chef and huge social media influencer. If Hallie was around, she was always stuck being Noelle’s photographer and videographer.

  “I’m not your personal flunky, Elle.” She turned her sister around so she could lace up the back of the dress and froze. “Uhh . . . Elle. What size dress did you order?”

  “What do you mean what size dress did I order? I ordered my size.”

  Hallie rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure what size you think you are, Elle, but it’s not this size.”

  Noelle glanced over her shoulder with snapping green eyes. “Just lace me up!”

  Since Hallie had learned there was no arguing with Noelle when she set her mind to something, she sighed. “Fine, but you’re going to have to suck in your breath if you want the two sides of this dress to meet.”

  After Noelle was laced tightly into the dress and she’d spent a good twenty minutes touching up her hair and makeup, they headed down to the kitchen so Hallie could film Noelle on her live social media feed acting like Vanna White as she pointed out the different decorations on the cake and how she had made them.

  Hallie had to admit it was a beautiful cake.

  Since it was the Fourth of July, Liberty and Belle had chosen red, white, and blue for their wedding colors. The white cake had billowy ribbons of red and blue fondant cascading over the three tiers, along with clusters of silver stars. If Hallie ever got married, she flat refused to use her holiday colors. She was not about to have a black-and-orange wedding cake covered in pumpkins and ghosts.

  Once Noelle was finished with her post, they headed to their parents’ room where the bridal party had congregated to help Liberty and Belle get ready. Not that the twins needed help. As event planners, they were used to getting brides ready for their big day . . . and the entire wedding party. As soon as Hallie and Noelle stepped into the room, both twins started issuing orders.

  “Hallie, you need to smooth down your hair in the back,” Belle said in her calm voice. “And would you please keep a watch at the window for Daddy’s signal that it’s time to head over to the barn?”

  Liberty was much less gracious and more commanding. “And for heaven’s sake, Hal, stop fidgeting with your dress. You’d think you’d never worn one before. And speaking of dresses, what’s going on with yours, Elle? Did you lace it too—?”

  “It’s fine!” Noelle snapped as she gingerly sat down on the bed.

  The other sisters, her grandma, and Mama looked at Hallie for an explanation, but she only shrugged. “If Elle says it’s fine, it’s fine.” Everyone looked at her with confusion. “What?”

  “It’s just that you’re usually the one on Noelle’s case about . . . well, everything,” Cloe said. It was true. Hallie had always enjoyed hassling her younger sister. But lately, she had her own issues to deal with . . . like getting drunk and making a huge mistake and losing her job. Which had led to her getting drunk and making a huge mistake.

  Up until a few weeks ago, she had been working at a brewery in Austin. She had just been promoted to head brewer when the owner decided to sell the brewery. He’d offered it to her, but she didn’t have enough credit to secure a loan. So he’d sold the brewery to a misogynistic jerk who pretty much thought women didn’t understand the nuances of making good beer and brought in his own head brewer, while demoting Hallie to waitress.

  “I’m sure you’ll make even more in tips,” he’d said with a wink and a pat on her fanny.

  She didn’t regret telling him off or, when that didn’t satisfy her anger, throwing a beer in his face. Unfortunately, the news of what she’d done spread like wildfire in the Austin brewing community—a community made up of mostly men who didn’t want some volatile feminist working for them. Now she couldn’t even get a waitressing job. Which just served to piss her off. She couldn’t throw beer in everyone’s faces, but she could buy her own brewery in Austin and rub their faces in her success.

  But first she needed to get financial backers. And as luck would have it, her twin sisters just happened to be marrying two wealthy investors. Unfortunately, Hallie hadn’t been exactly pleasant to either one of them. Some of the names she’d called them had ranged from no-account cheats to villainous assholes, but only because she’d thought they were after her family’s ranch.

  But that was all water under the bridge now. If you couldn’t ask family to invest in your dream, who could you ask? Not that she planned to ask them on their wedding day. She’d give Corbin and Jesse a couple weeks’ grace period before she cornered them to invest in her business venture.

  Until then she planned to do some major sucking up.

  “So where are the lucky grooms?” she asked.

  “According to the text I just got from Jesse, they’re hanging out behind the barn with Daddy and the groomsmen,” Liberty said. “I hope you didn’t give them some of your homemade elderberry wine, Mimi.”

  Mimi smiled slyly. “Now would I do that?”

  “Yes!” came the unanimous reply.

  Hallie was about to slip out of the door to join the party behind the barn when Sunny Whitlock, Corbin’s sister, sailed into the room. She looked like a long-legged runway model in the short red bridesmaid’s dress. At five feet two inches, Hallie had always envied tall women. And it had nothing to do with looking better in clothes or attracting more men. It had to do with being looked at as a cute little country gal who needed someone to take care of her. Because of her petite size, Hallie had had to fight for respect all her life. But once she got her brewery, things would be different. People, including her family, would stop thinking her beer brewing was a hobby and start seeing it as a profitable business. Here was her chance to score some points with Corbin. Corbin adored his baby sister.

 

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