As he turned back toward the trailer, he felt the familiar stab of pain in his right hip. Nearly five years had passed since a near-fatal dismount from a bull in the Professional Bull Riders finals had ended his career as a champion rider and left him unable to even mount a horse. Bad luck—but Conner had learned to count his blessings. He was alive and able to work, with a home, good friends, and a stake in a growing business.

He grabbed another tree and shook it, striking the base hard against the ground. Heavy snow would make cutting and hauling the trees that much harder. It would also mean getting ready for the sleigh rides that had become a popular tradition at the ranch.

With so much to do, there was little time to think of anything but work. Still, Conner had managed to indulge in a few brief, secret fantasies.

At least he’d assumed they were secret. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“Hey, Conner,” Travis called as he came back for another tree. “Do you think your dream woman will show up for the Cowboy Christmas Ball this year?”

Conner shrugged, feigning indifference as he handed off the tree and reached for the next one. The truth was, he’d been asking himself the same question. At last year’s ball, a female singer had performed with the Badger Hollow Boys, the Nashville band that played for every Christmas Ball. The lady had knocked his socks off. Tall and willowy in high-heeled boots, with long black hair and dark eyes that flashed like a gypsy’s, she’d been dressed like a cowgirl in tight jeans, a beaded, fringed leather jacket, and a battered Stetson. She’d had a good voice, too, with just an edge of sexiness. But it was her attitude—sassy and confident—that had really gotten to him. She was Wonder Woman in western gear—and she’d vanished before he’d had a chance to meet her. But he had learned her name. Lacy Leatherwood. Sexy. Like leather and lace.

“I take it you’re going stag,” Travis teased.

“I always go stag. It leaves me open to possibilities,” Conner said.

But that strategy hadn’t worked at last year’s ball. No sooner had he walked into the gym than Ronda May Blackburn had latched onto him and clung to his arm all evening. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about Ronda May this year. She’d given up chasing him and landed a cowboy from a ranch on the far side of town. Last he’d heard, they were making wedding plans.