A Wedding in Wyoming. Deb Kastner
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one of her spirited family who’d held back in the initial greeting, not offering him a welcome, much less a hug. She must be the sister Scotty had mentioned.
She now looked a little woozy. Her eyes looked glazed over and she was gripping the arm of the sofa like a lifeline. He guessed her to be around his age—twenty-five or twenty-six at most. She had gorgeous, short golden curls, a pretty, perky little nose, intelligent blue eyes, and a face as red as a Macintosh apple.
Obviously, she was the woman they were all talking about. What he didn’t know was what they were talking about.
He’d thought Scotty’s family had recognized him from a magazine cover or a television news story, but apparently that was not the case. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or alarmed.
He had to figure out what was going on, and fast. He thrust his fingers through his hair and tapped his Stetson against his thigh. If these people didn’t know who he really was—and they clearly didn’t—he didn’t want to tip off his own hand.
He hesitated in revealing his true identity—just yet. Not to this happy, real family who apparently didn’t keep up with national news all that well.
But he still didn’t know who they thought he was. He had to figure out some way to gain the information he needed without giving himself away.
And then he realized the answer to his problem, that other way, was staring straight back at him, half glaring, half beckoning, as if she expected him to say something that would clear up everything. To say that he was in no way connected with her, apparently.
And he supposed he would…in time. At the moment, he just wanted to hear what was invariably going to be a highly amusing story, especially if it came from the mouth of the lovely woman on the sofa.
He grinned widely as he looked away from Jenn and tipped his head toward her aunt, his fingers tugging at the imaginary brim of his hat. Cowboy style, he thought, his smile growing even bigger. “I’m mighty pleased to meet you all,” he said, giving a show at his most charming drawl. “But I wonder if I might have a moment alone with—uh,—Jenn?”
He couldn’t remember everyone’s names in the enthusiastic jumble of introductions, but Jenn’s name was sealed firmly in his mind.
“Why, of course,” answered a fine-looking middle-age woman who could only be Scotty and Jenn’s mother. She had the same golden curls—albeit with a bit of white—and the same vibrant blue eyes as her daughter. “You two probably haven’t seen each other in ages.”
Which was the understatement of the century, Johnny thought, his lips twitching with amusement.
“We’ll all retire to the kitchen to get sandwiches prepared for everyone,” Jenn’s grandmother suggested, “and give you two a little privacy.”
Jenn was on her feet in an instant. “I don’t think—” She stopped, looking around with wide eyes. A deer caught in the headlights, Johnny thought. She looked as if she were about to be run over by a blaring semi truck.
Johnny still had absolutely no idea what was going on, but it had to be one good story. He probably would have laughed out loud if the poor young woman by the sofa didn’t look so pitifully miserable.
He hadn’t felt like laughing—really laughing—in a very long time, and he savored the feeling. He’d let his work get the best of him, stealing away his teenage years, not to mention the first half of his twenties. Taking this summer off was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Especially now, when he’d somehow landed in the midst of a happy, if chaotic, family, and a mystery he was eager to solve.
“Now, Jenn,” said Scotty’s and Jenn’s grandmother, “be gracious to your guest. Fresh-ground coffee is on its way.” She turned to Johnny. “Please, young man, be seated.” Her forceful sideways glance at Jenn clearly indicated she should do the same.
Jenn nodded mutely at her family as all but her brother departed for the kitchen.
Scotty didn’t budge. He was grinning at Johnny like he’d just roped a steer on the first try. Scotty didn’t speak, but he chuckled and lifted one eyebrow.
Johnny just shrugged.
“Scotty,” Jenn said, her voice just a little bit shaky and very much pleading, “please.”
Scotty laughed rowdily but moved to join the others in the kitchen.
Jenn cringed inwardly. Count on her baby brother to give her trouble about this. About Johnny. As if she weren’t in enough trouble already.
Jenn regained her seat on the sofa with a deep sigh, burying her face in her hands. Johnny sat down on an armchair opposite her, leaned his elbows on his legs, and waited.
Jenn said nothing for the longest time. This was absolutely, totally surreal. She couldn’t get her mind around what was happening, never mind what to do with the situation.
She was alone in a room with a man she’d just now met—a man whom her family assumed was some sort of significant other in her life, a relationship obviously serious enough to warrant flowers being delivered to her out in the middle of nowhere.
Quickly, she composed her thoughts. There had to be a simple way out of this mess, even if she couldn’t see it now. She just had to think rationally. Starting with the obvious.
“Why did you call yourself the Johnny?” she asked, her voice more demanding than she’d intended, but she was under a lot of strain.
“We’ll get to that,” the man replied in his soft, rich baritone. “But first, I think you need to tell me who these people think I am.”
Jenn nodded. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. You must be stupefied by their reaction to your presence.”
He laughed. “Yeah, well, stupefied isn’t the exact word I’d use, but let’s just say I am more than just curious.”
She couldn’t help but laugh with him. It was funny, or at least it would be in twenty years when she looked back on this moment.
Right this second though, she felt dreadfully serious. Her stomach hurt.
“It’s my family. I know you’ve only just met them, but I’m sure you’ve noticed how overwhelming they can be.”
“You’re lucky to have a family,” Johnny said, his expression suddenly serious. Then he smiled and shrugged. “I’m an orphan, myself.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, and meant it with all her heart. Her job as a social worker in downtown Denver brought her in contact with many orphaned and abandoned children. She knew firsthand the pain and suffering they experienced, being all alone in the world. She wondered what Johnny’s story was, what he had been through. But now was not the time to ask.
“I love my family, I really do,” she stated emphatically. “I look forward to these yearly gatherings. It’s the only time I see most of my family, even my parents. I work in Denver, and it sometimes feels like Wyoming—where the rest of my family lives—might as well be Mars.”
“You’re busy with your work?” Johnny asked.
He had guessed accurately. “Yes. I’m a social worker. I work long, hard hours—sometimes seven days a week. And I’m on call many of the nights.”
Johnny nodded. “I know what you mean.”
She supposed he did, in a backward, cowboy sort of way. Wrangling cattle was pretty much a 24/7 job.
“There’s just this one thing, you see,” she explained. Oddly, she was beginning to feel comfortable in this cowboy’s presence. He was a large, intimidating man, to be sure, but he had kind eyes and a playful quirk to his lips that set her at ease.
Still, she had to be careful where she trod, especially since Johnny seemed so sincere.
It