A Wedding in Wyoming. Deb Kastner

Her statement was true, wasn’t it?

      Why would the man bring his cowboy hat to the dinner table anyway? At least he had the good sense not to be wearing it indoors, which would have set Granny on him like a pit bull on a piece of fresh meat.

      Oh, who was she kidding? Jenn sighed inwardly, giving herself a mental shake. She was born and raised on a Wyoming ranch. All ranch hands had their boots and hats permanently glued to them.

      “You may hang your hat on that peg over there,” Granny said, gesturing to a large pink and blue country pig plaque, with arms made for just that purpose. Scotty’s cavalry hat was already hanging from one of the pegs.

      After doing as Granny suggested, Johnny returned to the table and pulled out a chair. But instead of seating himself, he offered it to Jenn, and then fussed around her until he was sure she was comfortable.

      Playing his part.

      And Jenn couldn’t have been more uncomfortable. Especially when he leaned down next to her ear and whispered, “I tried to brush my hat to get the grime off, darlin’, but I think the thing has near seen its last days.”

      She didn’t know whether it was his warm breath on the nape of her neck, his leathery cowboy scent or the small endearment, but whatever it was, it was nearly her undoing. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She wasn’t used to being this near a man—any man—and this handsome stranger was far too charming for his own good.

      Or hers.

      His sitting down next to her didn’t help one bit, never mind the cheeky grin and wink he gave her. She knew it was for her family’s benefit, but it still made her uncomfortable.

      Not for long, though. It was only moments before Johnny was chatting comfortably with her family, making everyone laugh with his silly jokes.

      She sighed inwardly, wondering once again what she’d gotten herself into. She was going to be a cowboy’s girlfriend for two solid weeks. Why, oh, why, did the man’s name have to be Johnny?

      The family began passing the dishes around, the cheerful babble of voices never ceasing as they piled their plates full of food. No one picked up a fork, however, not even Jenn’s cowboy.

      Granddad, seated at the head of the table, cleared his throat, and everyone became silent. With the quiet reverence Jenn remembered from her childhood, her grandfather folded his hands and bowed his head.

      “Let us pray,” he said, the usual cheerful gruffness for once gone from his voice, replaced by the humble reverence he offered the Almighty.

      Jenn followed suit with the rest of her family, though she shot a quick sideways glance at Johnny. He, too, had his head bowed over clasped hands.

      Why, Jenn wondered, did Granddad always wait until after the food was served to say grace? Her plate was steaming with fresh beef, a pile of mashed potatoes made from scratch, and green beans.

      The aroma of the feast was tantalizing and far too delectable to pass up, and Granddad’s prayers were often too long and windy, at least for Jenn.

      “We thank you, Lord, for all the blessings of this day,” her grandfather began. “For the food you have provided, and especially for bringing a guest into our midst. We ask you to be with us this night, and to bless our good fellowship together as a family. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”

      There was a hearty echo of amens following the prayer, and Jenn even heard Johnny’s rich, deep voice in the chorus.

      Jenn hoped Johnny didn’t notice that she didn’t join in. None of the rest of the family had, to her knowledge, ever noticed, thankfully, not in all the years since high school. Or if they did, they never commented on her lack of enthusiasm for anything related to praising and worshipping God.

      It was one of the moments Jenn hated most about these reunions—the constant stream of prayers to a Heavenly Father she had long since stopped believing in. God was a myth, like Santa Claus. She’d gotten over it a long time ago, except here, in the midst of her family, where faith in God was all too real.

      And too painful.

      Granddad reached for his fork and havoc set in for the next few minutes as everyone sampled the feast and delighted Granny with their praises over her excellent cooking.

      Almost everyone had contributed something to the meal. Even Jenn, who never cooked anything in the city, far preferring take-out to a mess in the kitchen, had been coaxed into snapping fresh green beans.

      And boy, was she glad of it now. The thing she missed most about her childhood home, other than the family members themselves, was Granny’s mouthwatering home-style cooking. These were two weeks she didn’t care if the gravy on the mashed potatoes was clogging her arteries. The delicious meal was just too good to pass up.

      It wasn’t long, though, before the family started chatting, and inevitably, the topic turned rather quickly to Jenn’s relationship with Johnny.

      Jenn had thought Auntie Myra would lead the way into that territory, but it was Scotty who spoke up first.

      “Now I know your secret, buddy,” Scotty said with an enthusiastic grin in Johnny’s direction.

      Johnny wiped his mouth with the edge of his napkin before replying. “Oh, and what secret would that be?”

      Scotty chortled loudly. “Why you were off hugging that laptop of yours every time we hit the bunkhouse. You hinted that it might be a girlfriend, but I had no idea it was my own sister.”

      Johnny shrugged a shoulder, a forkful of beef hanging midair. “You caught me. I was trying to get to know this pretty young lady better. Tough to do when we’re riding the range.”

      “My sister,” Scotty said, sounding amazed. “And I never guessed it.”

      Johnny winked at Jenn.

      “How did you two meet?” This time it was Auntie Myra doing the questioning, or rather, Jenn thought with amusement, the interrogation.

      Jenn thought Johnny would field the question as he had the others, but he nudged her with his knee under the table. Apparently he thought it was her turn to do the talking.

      Jenn smiled sweetly at Johnny but nudged him back.

      Hard.

      “We met through mutual friends,” she explained. “Really, it all started as a joke.”

      “A joke?” Johnny queried. Jenn nudged him again with her knee. He wasn’t supposed to be asking any questions here.

      “Well, yes, of course.” She looked deeply into Johnny’s eyes, sending him a silent warning to shut up and go along with her. “Mark and Julie were always nagging me, wanting to set me up with one of their friends or another. I don’t know why young married couples always think they need to share the wealth. Mark and Julie are happily married, so they assume I need to be, as well.”

      “Hear, hear,” called Granny, holding her glass of iced tea in the air in a mock toast and making everyone at the table burst out in laughter.

      “In any case, I finally gave in to their pressure and said I would meet one of their friends, on the condition that it be at their house, with them present.”

      Johnny jumped in at that point. “I didn’t know anything about it,” he said, lifting his right palm out as if taking an oath.

      Jenn’s eyes blazed intensely at Johnny before she forced a sickeningly sweet smile to her lips for his benefit more than that of her family. She wasn’t going to let him fluster her—not when so much was at stake.

      “I arrived early,” Jenn broke in. “I think Mark and Julie planned it that way. So there I was, sitting on the sofa with Julie, when this man came in.”

      Everyone’s eyes were riveted on hers.

      Even Johnny’s.

      And, as unusual as it was, not a single family member