Mistletoe Rodeo. Amanda Renee

halters and blankets for the horses. Once night fell, the ranch glowed so brightly that he and his brothers swore it must be visible from outer space.

      Chase loved his family, but they were a constant reminder of what he didn’t have—a wife and kids of his own. With his wealth and status, it had become increasingly difficult to tell if a woman was interested in him or his bank account. It always hit him harder this time of year, especially now that all of his brothers were married with children. The irony of the situation was that none of his brothers had even wanted to settle down. Chase, however, had always envisioned a house full of children running around, much like the one he grew up in.

      Chase hated to admit it, but he was envious of his three older brothers. Their children were their greatest accomplishments. Jesse and Miranda’s twins, Jackson and Slade, had turned two this past July; his niece Ever was seven; and his fifteen-year-old nephew, Hunter, was well on his way to becoming a champion rodeo competitor himself. By the time Chase got around to having children, their cousins would be married with kids of their own.

      Turning thirty in a couple of days only added to his frustration. Chase wished he’d said yes to Cancun and was headed to Mexico rather than sitting next to a woman he’d much rather ask to dinner than argue with. But a date with Nola was out of the question. She had an air of worldly sophistication about her and would surely prefer someone who had a lot more going on than a rodeo cowboy, regardless of his wealth. Besides, the only time Chase ever saw her was when he or his family were part of her news coverage. No, the attraction was definitely one-sided.

      “Please don’t take this personally, but I’m not up for talking tonight.” It was better to end the conversation now before he became even more aggravated.

      Nola shrugged and refocused her attention on her screen. Chase popped in his earbuds and turned up the volume of his iPod, drowning out the world around him. Closing his eyes as he settled against the seat, he pulled his hat down lower.

      Nola deserved better than his ornery attitude. If he hadn’t found the reporter so attractive, maybe he could find a way to be more cordial to her. But that was the problem—she was a journalist above all else, and anything he did or said would appear in her next story. Nola West made no apologies for her persistent climb up the network ladder, and Chase refused to be one of those rungs.

      The woman was too perfectly poised. Chase would like to get her dirty—show her what it felt like to be out of her element and relinquish control to someone else. If circumstances were different, he’d love to help her find her wild side for an hour or two. He gave his head a shake. Nola needed to remain off-limits.

      * * *

      REPORTING FROM THE side of a war-torn highway in Kuwait had been easier than tracking down Chase Langtry in Nevada. He’d managed to avoid her at every turn. Her studio had shelled out big bucks for Nola to secure the interview, although they had anticipated it would be about a local cowboy making good. Once her news director had heard of Chase’s disastrous ride, he’d dangled the upcoming KWTT co-anchor position in front of Nola. He had warned her if she ever expected to get anywhere in this business, she had better start bringing in some harder-hitting stories. The rise and fall of the rodeo star was a start.

      When she had seen Chase drowning his sorrows in the hotel bar last night, she’d felt a tinge sorry for him—but it had been short-lived. Based on everything her cousin Kylie had told her about the Langtrys, the four brothers had had their lives, and then some, handed to them on a silver platter. The famously rich “First Family of Ramblewood” had it all. If losing the championship at the National Finals Rodeo was the worst thing that had happened to Chase, then he needed to count his blessings. She’d seen people take some serious knocks in life, and losing a rodeo competition didn’t even come close.

      Nola had first interviewed Chase and the Langtry family two and a half years ago at the grand opening of the Ride ’em High! Rodeo School and Dance of Hope Hippotherapy Center. While Nola had simply adored the mother, Kay, she’d thought the brothers were a little over-the-top and too entitled.

      “Would you care for a drink?” a flight attendant asked.

      “Scotch, please.” No girly drinks for Nola. She’d learned how to drink around military men, and unless it burned on the way down, it didn’t classify as a drink.

      They both looked at Chase when he didn’t respond, but he was oblivious with his headphones tucked firmly in place. After a quick nudge from Nola’s elbow, Chase turned the music down long enough to order a bourbon and then quickly resumed sulking in the corner.

      Nola had known Chase would travel first class and had convinced her news director, Pete, to approve her ticket upgrade only to discover she was seated a few rows behind the cowboy. After a little flirtation with the man originally assigned to her seat, Nola had managed to finagle her way beside Chase.

      If he’d remove those damn things from his ears and talk to her, she might have something worth reporting. A brooding cowboy didn’t make much of a headline, but a man battling his inner demons might be enough to satisfy both the station and Chase. After all, there were two sides to every story, but Chase needed to open up in order for Nola to save his reputation and possibly his wounded pride.

      So Nola did what her seven years in the Army had trained her to do. She improvised. When the flight attendant handed Nola her drink, she purposely bumped it so it spilled on Chase’s iPod.

      “Oh, you’re good.” Chase pushed back his ball cap, exposing more of his tousled blond hair. He stared at her with a piercing turquoise glare that would’ve intimidated most people, but Nola had covered the news from the landmine-ridden Persian Gulf countryside and had witnessed the other side of evil. Chase didn’t come close.

      “I’ve got to hand it to you, Nola—I didn’t see that one coming.”

      Nola had to hand it to him. He didn’t get mad or even swear. He just quietly tossed everything into an airline barf bag, earbuds and all.

      “It was an accident.” Nola fought to squelch her guilt. “Don’t you carry a spare iPod with you?”

      “No, I don’t carry a spare iPod with me,” Chase mocked. “Who would? And please don’t play coy. I don’t believe that was an accident. You’re too precise and calculating for that to happen.”

      Nola recoiled at his remark, though it wasn’t completely off base. She had learned to maintain discipline out of necessity and survival. There had been a time in her life when Reckless was her middle name.

      “Okay, you have my attention.” Chase dabbed at his jeans with the tissues she handed him from her bag. “What do you want to talk about? I already told you no interviews, so I hope you don’t think this will change anything.”

      “Do you have any plans for the holidays?” Nola had covered Chase enough times to know the way to his heart was through his family. “I bet Kay goes all out, doesn’t she?”

      “Even more now that she has the grandkids around.” Chase’s broad shoulders relaxed a bit and he settled back as he spoke, confirming to Nola that she knew how to read her interviewees. “It’s not only my mother, though. The entire town goes a little overboard,” Chase said drily. “Haven’t you ever been to Ramblewood over the holidays?” He paused. “I just realized I don’t know where you live.”

      “I have a small condo in Willow Tree.” Even though she only lived a half hour from Ramblewood, Nola purposely avoided the town during the holidays despite Kylie’s best efforts to persuade her to join the annual festivities.

      “Willow Tree, really? Nice place. You know, you’ve interviewed me a dozen times and I know absolutely nothing about you. Let’s try this a different way. If you’re game, why not let me have the honor of interviewing you for the rest of the flight home?”

      Nola wasn’t used to someone turning the tables on her and it made her a tad uncomfortable. That and the fact that her Spanx was cutting off her air supply. She didn’t normally wear the Lycra from hell when she traveled. Standing in it was bad enough, never mind sitting for hours,