for not finding a friend to drive her to Logan Airport. Even on a Sunday morning, she’d rather navigate Boston traffic on a unicycle than put her life into the hands of one of the city’s cabbies.
When they entered the tunnel that dumped them out near the airport, Jess tried not to think about how much an ocean weighed, or whether the people who’d designed this underwater Slinky had gotten Ds in Structural Engineering. She needed distraction as the cab inched forward, and even the phone call of twenty minutes ago wasn’t enough of one.
She was debating whether it was legal to jump out of the taxi and just wait for it at the far end of the tunnel when her gaze landed on the envelope Gianna had slid through the window. She pulled it out of the carry-on pocket where she’d stuffed it, then flipped it over to look at it.
When she saw the return address, she felt icy prickles slide up her scalp.
Then her voice made a strangled, pitiful sound she hardly recognized, and she dropped the envelope on the floor.
—
“No. I will not pose for some crazy beefcake calendar. Not happening.” Cole put one hand up, palm toward his sister-in-law as he reached into the fridge for a bottled water. He’d just finished leading a trail ride out to the cliffs, and had stopped by the main lodge for a quick drink.
Kyla smiled sweetly. “It’s not a beefcake calendar. It’s a Men-of-Whisper-Creek memento.”
“Beefcake.”
“Cole! You know it would be a great moneymaker. Every woman who stays here at the ranch would take one home with her.”
Cole shivered dramatically. “That doesn’t make me feel better.” He pointed out the window. “Go take pictures of the scenery! Look! Blue skies, rolling grasslands, big snow-capped mountains in the distance. Make that calendar.”
“Come on. We’ll just take a few pictures. You’d have final say over what shots I use.”
“No.” Cole sighed. He loved Kyla like a sister, and her ideas had been bringing in more money than they’d ever made before she came along, but a calendar? That was putting things over the top.
“Kyla, remember when you thought we should get goats?”
“Mm-hmm. I was right, right?”
“You were right. Kids love them.” He put up one finger, then raised a second one. “And remember when you thought we should add a spa package?”
She nodded. “Right about that, too.”
“Yes.” He put up the rest of the fingers on his right hand. “Also right about the wedding gazebo and the Shetlands and the fishing excursions.”
“Sounds like I’m five for five.” She raised an eyebrow in challenge.
“Exactly. So let’s not mess with your perfect record by pimping out the cowboys for a calendar, okay?”
“Not all of the cowboys. Just a select few. Like, twelve.”
He shook his head. “Not happening.”
“Cole, we have the hottest cowboys in Montana. It makes business sense to capitalize on that and you know it.”
Before he could formulate an answer, Ma blew into the huge country kitchen with a laundry basket full of towels.
“What’s all this jawing about in here?”
Cole raised his eyebrows at Kyla, silently daring her to tell Ma she wanted to put together a cowboy calendar. No way would Ma go for it, and they both knew it.
With a flick of her head, Kyla turned to Ma. “I was just telling Cole I think we should do a Whisper Creek calendar.”
Shit.
Ma pursed her lips, nodding carefully. “Cowboys?”
“Yes.”
Ma smiled benignly as she picked up a towel, folding carefully. “I think it’s a great idea. Is he campaigning to be Mr. February?”
Kyla shot a superior look his way, huge grin on her face, and Cole could do nothing but sigh, slap on his Stetson, and head for the door. Great. Outnumbered once again.
“I’ll let you know when we need you for the photo shoot,” Kyla called.
He opened the door. “And I’ll let you know when I’m headed to Alaska.”
As he walked toward the stable, he saw his brother working one of their new ponies on a long lead in the corral. He approached slowly so he wouldn’t startle them, settling his arms on the top rail as he watched.
Decker spotted him out of the corner of his eye. “How are things up in the henhouse?”
“Your wife is planning a beefcake calendar.”
“Oh, really?” Decker’s eyebrows went upward. “And who does she plan to use for the—beefcakes? Is that a word?”
“Who do you think?”
Decker shook his head. “No way. Not happening.”
“That’s what I told her. But don’t think Ma’s going to save us. She