How to Rope a Real Man by Melissa Cutler

looks like a whole new woman,” Amy added. “I almost didn’t recognize her.”
    Rachel huffed. “Why are you saying that like it’s a good thing? I’m pretty damn happy with the old me. Don’t make me get offended or this ridiculous hairdo is coming down.”
    Jenna swiped Amy’s champagne flute from the table, pushed it into Amy’s hand, and stepped between her and Rachel. “Hey, you two. It’s Amy’s special day—no bickering allowed.”
    “Fine, but can you blame me for getting cranky at all the people telling me I look so much better than usual? It’s insulting.” Rachel hitched the dress higher over her bust and squirmed in discomfort, sloshing her champagne over the lip of the glass. “I’m still not convinced my boobs aren’t going to pop out of this thing at any minute.”
    Jenna grabbed a tissue and dabbed at the champagne collecting on the flute’s base. “Your boobs are going to be fine. Even if they do pop out, it’ll only lend a little extra excitement to the night. And need I remind you that the only person whose opinion of your looks matters is yours?”
    “And Vaughn’s.” Rachel’s shoulders rose and fell with her deep sigh. “What if he likes me better like this, dressed up like some damn princess instead of . . .” She shook her head, then guzzled the remainder of her drink. “Instead of the regular me. I don’t think I could bear it.”
    Jenna snagged the bottle and refilled her flute. “Oh, sweetie. He fell in love with a tough-nut, no-nonsense cowgirl. Do you know what I would give to have a man look at me the way I catch Vaughn stealing lovesick puppy glances at you? Do you think he’d rather have himself a high-maintenance princess, even if you do look good as one?”
    Rachel grunted, unconvinced. “At least we get to wear boots.”
    Keeping with the rustic country chic theme, Jenna and Amy had decided to accessorize the bridal party’s formal wear with boots—chocolate brown with elaborate pink stitch work for the ladies and shiny black for the men. Being that the majority of the bridal party lived their daily lives in boots, everyone was more than happy to oblige.
    Only Jake, they’d discovered, had never had the pleasure of stuffing his feet into a pair of leather western boots. In fact, Jenna wasn’t altogether sure Kellan had told his brother there’d be a pair of boots waiting for him along with his tux. Ought to be an interesting conversation in the groom’s suite right about now.
    Amy draped an arm across Rachel’s shoulders and squeezed. “If Vaughn tells you he loves your dress, it’s probably only because of how much skin it shows and how fast he figures he’ll be able to get it off you tonight when you get home.”
    A mischievous smile threatened to spread over Rachel’s lips. “There is that.”
    Crisis averted. Jenna gestured to Amy’s still-full glass. “You’re not drinking your champagne. Still queasy from the tequila? I’m so sorry I made you drink that last night. I thought it would help, but it only made things worse.”
    Amy waved off her apology. “It wasn’t the tequila. Well, it was in a round-about way, I suppose.” She looked around at the other women in the room—Marti the hairstylist, Lisa Binderman, Sloane Delgado, and Tina, Kellan’s mom—as though she had more to say about the tequila incident, but not with so many people around. “Go get your shower over with so Marti can do your hair.”
    Time for some unspoken sisterly communication. Jenna leveled a look square at Amy, eyes narrowed. What aren’t you telling me?
    Amy’s eyes grew wide and flashed to the room full of people, as if to say, Now’s not the time or place.
    “Should I be worried?” Jenna whispered.
    A hint of a smile flashed over her features as she gave her head a brief shake. “It’s all good.”
    Maybe for Amy, but nothing was crueler to Jenna than someone letting on they had a secret to share but not just yet. And now she was contending with