by Julie Benson
Hoping to dispel his gloomy thoughts and have fun, Zane scanned the room searching for a diversion. His gaze landed on two women. The first, a tall, stunning blonde wore skinny jeans and a tight shirt with a low-cut V-neck, laces holding it in place over her ample breasts. Standing with her was a somewhat familiar, pretty brunette dressed in low-rise, tight jeans and an off-the-shoulder floral number.
“Zane? Want to come back to earth?” AJ said as he waved his hand in front of his face.
“Who’s the blonde in the navy lace top?”
“That’s Susannah Timmons,” Ty said.
“That’s huge-overbite, Coke-bottle glasses Susannah?” Zane asked. Contact lenses, and a couple surgeries—nose and boobs—unless he missed his guess, had done wonders for her appearance.
“Put your eyes back in your head. She’s engaged.”
“She’s having her wedding here. I bet she’s one scary bridezilla,” AJ said, shuddering in exaggerated horror.
“That’s for sure. She brought her cat to see me. Talk about having pretty girl syndrome,” Cooper said, using their term for a woman who felt the world should overlook her mistakes, help her whenever necessary, and give her endless chances because of her looks.
“Unless she’s getting married in the next six weeks, and the countdown started after Ginny’s surgery last Thursday, it won’t be my problem.” Zane glanced at the women again. “Who’s her friend?”
“I’m surprised you don’t recognize her. That’s Campbell Alverez.”
No wonder she looked familiar. He and Campbell had dated on and off during high school and college summer breaks. “She still lives here?”
“She moved in with her folks six months ago,” AJ said.
“I might give her a call if I get bored,” Zane said.
“Word is she went through a nasty divorce.”
The news made Zane pause. After a divorce, women went one of two ways. One, they loosened up, went a little wild, and made up for lost time. Or, they grew bitter and subconsciously punished men for their ex’s actions. If Campbell chose the first, great. They could have fun, but if memory served, she possessed a temper, making the second option more likely.
AJ thumped him on the arm. “Did you hear me, Zane?”
“Sorry. What did you say?”
“I asked what Cody thinks of you taking off six weeks?” AJ asked referring to Zane’s business partner.
“That’s the great thing about the gaming industry. I’m not chained to the office. We have a lot of people working remotely. I’ll simply be more remote than most.”
“You’re going to juggle your company and your grandmother’s? Are you crazy?”
He explained how with the time difference between California and Texas, he could knock out Ginny’s business first thing in the morning. When his office opened in LA, he’d have some juggling to do, but after five Texas time, he’d have a couple hours with the Big Stake Games office still open.
“I hope it goes that way for you, pal,” Ty said.
“Sounds like you’ve thought this through, and it should be simple,” Cooper said, rubbing his knuckles along his jaw line. “But that would make me nervous because it’s usually the simple things that catch us.”
“Especially when women are involved, and the wedding industry is full of ’em,” AJ added.
“Apparently you weren’t listening when I said I’m the behind the scenes man. I won’t be dealing with brides, mothers of the brides, or bridesmaids.” As long as Ginny’s assistant proved capable. “Speaking of the business, how’s McKenna doing handling tonight, AJ?”
“McKenna gets things done,” AJ said. “Grace and I told her what we wanted, picked out the food, and she took it from there. All we had to do was show up. She’s definitely a type A personality.”
“Good. That’s exactly who I need so I can steer clear of receptions and clients,” Zane said.
“What did McKenna say when she found out you were taking over?” Ty asked.
“She doesn’t know yet.”
“Why not?”
“I only got here a day before Ginny’s surgery. I couldn’t get her to change her mind about putting me in charge until we were on the way to the hospital. Then with her being in the hospital for a couple days, and this party, I figured it best to save the news for the office on Tuesday.”
“Boy is your first day going to be rocky.”
“I don’t see why,” Zane said.
Ty clapped him on the shoulder. “You say that now but working with a strong-willed woman when it’s just the two of you is different than managing geeky gamers.”
Cooper nodded. “I found that out when I hired Cheyenne.”
His friends had lost their minds if they thought he couldn’t manage one woman. Supervising staff was the same no matter what the company, and he appreciated strong, driven employees, female or male. “If she does her job, we won’t have a problem. You can’t think I’ll have trouble dealing with a woman?”
AJ tilted his head toward the bar across the room. “See that woman coming out of the back toting a bucket of ice?”
When Zane turned, a tall woman dressed in a full denim skirt stopping at her cowboy boots, a long-sleeved white blouse with a red bandana and a baggy denim vest stalked toward the bar. He cringed. His grandma showed more skin than this woman.
Between the way she dressed, her no-nonsense stride, and wearing her mousy brown hair in a tight spinster bun, she looked like she’d stepped out of Little House on the Prairie. The woman had no fun written all over her. “That’s McKenna?”
Ty nodded. “You still want to stick with the you-won’t-have-trouble-with-her answer?”
“Absolutely. She’s a woman, and I haven’t met one I can’t charm with a little sweet talk and a smile.”
His friends glanced back and forth between each other, shaking their heads, grinning and looking at him like he was too dumb to know what day it was.
“You want to put money on it? Say ten bucks, because I say you’re wrong,” AJ said.
Zane chuckled. “You’re on.”
“What’s the specific criteria? How do we judge being able to ‘charm her’ or ‘not having trouble’ with her?” Cooper asked, his brows furrowed in thought.
“Ask her for a date? If she says yes, you win. If she turns you down, we do,” AJ said.
“No way.” Zane shook his head. Dates indicated a man was interested in a woman romantically. Afterward came expectations of a call and a second date, neither of which would happen. “Asking her out would give the wrong impression.”
“Ask her to dance,” Cooper suggested.
Zane smiled. Dancing was harmless, lasted less than four minutes, and wouldn’t leave her with the wrong impression. Perfect. “By the end of the night I’ll have gotten McKenna to dance. Everyone in?”
His friends nodded.
“Watching you go down in flames is going to be more fun than we’ve had in a long time,” Cooper said.
“All right, enough of you men being holed up in the corner,” Grace said, cutting off Cooper’s comment when she, Cassie, and Cheyenne joined them.
“I was fixin’ to come find you to dance,” AJ said as he linked hands with Grace and kissed his fiancée’s cheek. “But none of this line dancing. I want a slow song so I can hold you.”
Zane rolled his eyes at his friend’s besotted voice and lovestruck look.
“Great idea,” Cooper said, wearing a similarly enamored grin, as he slid his arm around Cheyenne’s shoulder.
Cooper dancing? Mr. Two Left Feet? In the ten-plus years Zane had known his best friend, he’d never seen him dance. Not even to a slow ballad. Zane shook his head. He’d known men to do ridiculous things when in love, but he never thought his best friend would act that way.
“You should join us on the dance floor,” Cassie said.
“The three of us dancing would be a little awkward.”
Ty’s beautiful blonde wife laughed.
“Ge
t your own girl. This one’s taken,” Ty said.
“From the looks you’ve gotten since you arrived, that shouldn’t be difficult. You’ve caused quite a stir,” Cassie said.
Zane smiled. “And I’m fixin’ to cause more.”
*
Bloom where you’re planted. McKenna Stinson lived by that philosophy and a set of rules, but sometimes it was hard, especially when life dumped a massive pile of manure on her the way it had this last year.
A year and a half ago, she’d been a wedding planner with one of Houston’s most prestigious wedding venues. Now she found her savings drained, her credit card maxed out, and her career back at square one. No longer a wedding planner, instead, she worked as the personal assistant-glorified gopher-track down vendor estimates-do whatever needs being done gal to Ginny Logan, owner of Lucky Stars Weddings in Wishing, Texas, and was grateful for the job.
Lightning repeatedly flashed, followed by the rumbling thunder. When she’d checked the weather before the guests arrived, the consensus was the storms would roll in around ten. Looked as if they were moving faster than anticipated. Having learned early on that bad weather or sometimes a strong breeze could knock out the ranch’s power, McKenna made her way across the barn’s ballroom-dining area to check the generator again.
Nothing could go wrong with tonight’s engagement party for Wishing’s chief of police and the manager of the Bluebonnet Inn bed and breakfast. For a small town such as Wishing, population slightly under eleven thousand, tonight’s gathering was a major event.
More importantly with Ginny out for at least six weeks, tonight was McKenna’s first opportunity to prove herself. This party coming off seamlessly would instill confidence in people with upcoming weddings and reassure them Ginny had made the right decision leaving her in charge.
For McKenna, personally, tonight was the first step to getting her career back on track. When her boss saw what a fabulous job she did as manager, surely she’d promote McKenna to wedding planner. From there, hopefully, Ginny would listen to her ideas to expand Lucky Stars to host end of life celebrations and corporate retreats, further proving her value. Who knew, from there, maybe years down the road she could manage the business or become a partner.
Not that she wanted to push Ginny out of her own business, the one the woman had launched when her husband died. But McKenna needed to control her destiny and have the security she craved. She’d never face her father’s uncertainty of worrying about losing a job when a company was sold or downsized. No more moving unless she wanted to. Then she could put down roots and finally have a real home.
After checking the generator, the cell phone in her skirt pocket vibrated. Wanting to ensure the call wasn’t from another client or Ginny, McKenna checked the screen and froze seeing her sister’s name.
Don’t answer. Tonight’s too important, and you can’t afford to deal with Erin’s drama. Let her call go to voice mail.
As McKenna slipped her phone back in her pocket, an odd tingle shot up her spine and her big sister instincts kicked in. Erin’s problems were rarely trivial. What if she didn’t take the call and something happened she could’ve prevented? She grabbed her phone and answered.
“McKenna, I’m hurt, and I don’t know what to do.”
Erin’s trembling voice pounded in McKenna’s ears. Her hand clutching her phone tightened, and her fingers tingled. Her chin dropped to her chest as she tried to calm her racing heart.
She’d been right. Erin was in trouble. Again.
Not tonight. McKenna’s mind spun. Boots clicked in rhythm against the wooden dance floor as guests line danced. The buzz of conversations rang in her ears. Her vision clouded. How could she deal with another of Erin’s crises? McKenna inhaled deeply. Unable to concentrate, she stumbled outside onto the empty patio.
Lightning flashed across the sky and thunder rolled around her. The wind whipped at her hair as if the weather mirrored her inner volatility.
“McKenna? Are you there?”
Her sister’s desperate voice broke through McKenna’s fear. She’d help Erin because she was the big sister, and that was what she did.
“I’m here. What happened?”
Sobs answered her question. McKenna stared ahead. The storm would be on them soon.
“Calm down,” McKenna said as much to herself as to Erin. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
More gut-wrenching sobs echoed in her ears. “Erin Marie, breathe with me.” McKenna inhaled and held it for a few seconds before exhaling slowly. A few repetitions and Erin gained a bit of control.
“Lance hit me,” Erin whispered.
Light as bright and destructive as the lightning around her flashed before McKenna’s eyes. But knowing her rage wouldn’t help Erin, McKenna harnessed her control and ignored her fury. She needed to focus on her sister and helping her deal with the trauma she’d experienced and any injuries she’d suffered. Oh, Lord. Trauma. Injuries.
McKenna’s knees wobbled. “Are you at the hospital?”
“No. I’m pretty bruised, but I don’t think I need a doctor.”
Pretty bruised. A multitude of injuries could go with that. Damaged spleen. Bruised kidneys. Punctured lungs. “With all the adrenaline pumping through your system, you can’t tell how bad you’re hurt. You should see a doctor to make sure you don’t have internal injuries.”
“I didn’t think of that. Should I go to the ER?”
Oh, God. She’d hoped Erin would say she couldn’t have internal injuries because Lance slapped her or punched her in the arm. Not that those actions weren’t horrible, they were, but the fact that her sister admitted she should get medical attention meant the bastard had hit her where she could have internal damage.
Chapter Two
Calm down. She’ll get treatment. The most important problem’s dealt with. Focus on the next one.
“You also need the hospital to document the abuse,” McKenna said, her voice cracking. “Where are you? Do you have someone who can go with you to the hospital?”
“I’m at a friend’s apartment.”
McKenna pressed her palm over her heart as tears filled her eyes. Erin was safe. “Call the police. Have them meet you at the hospital so you can press charges. Then they can arrest Lance. While he’s in jail, get a protective order. Once you have that, if he comes near you, he can be arrested.”
“A protective order? Do you really think I need that? It sounds like a lot of work.” Erin paused.
Worried if Erin had to slog through the paperwork on her own, she’d give up, McKenna explained her work situation and said, “Once this party’s over and we’ve cleaned up, I’ll drive to Houston. We’ll work on the protective order Monday.”
“What about my apartment? My name is on the lease, not Lance’s.”
Before McKenna could answer, a waiter dressed in Ginny’s preferred uniform of jeans, a black button-down shirt, and cowboy boots, stepped outside. McKenna asked her sister to hold, muted her phone, and turned to the young server.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Ms. Stinson, but Mr. Barnett is looking for you, and the kitchen sink is clogged.”
Never a dull moment in the wedding business. Clogged drains or a clogged toilet. She could count on at least one a night. But that was why people paid her to deal with those headaches while they enjoyed the celebration. “I’ll be there in a minute, as soon as I deal with this issue.”
Alone again, McKenna said, “We’ll talk to your apartment manager when I’m there. Maybe the company has another complex you can move to without breaking your lease.”
“I can’t believe this. How do I keep picking losers?” Genuine confusion filled Erin’s voice.
You go for the charmers and the bad boys. Ones like Dad with a handsome face and a great smile, but no substance. Then you move in with him before he shows his true colors.
“Thanks, McKenna. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“That’s what big sisters are for.”
But who watched out for big sisters when they needed help?
We learn early on to take care of ourselves.
McKenna ended the call as the rain started. Saying a prayer Erin hadn’t sustained serious injuries, she dumped her phone in her pocket, and switched into management mode.
A smile frozen on her face, McKenna opened the French door, stepped inside, and found Ty Barnett. When he mentioned the toast, she asked he give her five minutes to pour champagne before calling for the guests’ attention.
She hadn’t reached the champagne table when the storm hit. Wind howled outside as it sent trees swaying in a macabre dance. Rain pounded the roof as McKenna walked to where the flutes lined the table. Bottles of champagne on ice in galvanized tubs rested behind it. After grabbing a bottle, McKenna scanned the room for the servers, but couldn’t pick any out. Who’d have guessed so many guests would wear black shirts and jeans like the temp help?
Not wanting to delay the toast, she started filling glasses, expecting staff to assist. When she retrieved a second bottle, a black shirt appeared before her.
For an instant all coherent thought disappeared. Over six-feet tall with short, spikey blond hair, the man’s black shirt contrasted against his tanned skin. His crisp, creased jeans emphasized his muscular thighs, and his mesmerizing green eyes sparkled with amusement.
When her heart pitter-pattered faster than it had in years, she frowned. She frequently encountered attractive men in her occupation, but her heart rate never went crazy. What was it about this man made it do so now?
Attractive doesn’t begin to describe him, and you know it. Make a woman walk into a wall because she is so distracted ogling him was a better description.
Getting a grip on her foolish feminine reaction, McKenna grabbed another bottle and held it out to Mr. Stop Traffic.
“I’m glad to help, but—”
“Can I have everyone’s attention?” Ty said from the dance floor.
McKenna shoved the unopened bottle into his hand. “In about a minute everyone will be clamoring for champagne to toast the happy couple. Pour.”