“Speaking of doctors,” Cole said, “it looked like you and Dr. Martin already knew each other.”
Maverick sat across from his brother at the rectangular pine table. “We met earlier when Jenna was chasing George.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” Cole said, lifting his coffee mug to take a sip, a decidedly defiant gleam in his eyes. “I seem to remember you mentioning a Kennedy Martin back when you were in school.”
Damn his brother and his steel-trap memory.
Rather than answer, Maverick filled his plate with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. The less he talked about the wedding crasher, the better.
“I knew it!” Cole said, Maverick’s silence an error in judgment. “She’s the girl you loved to hate, isn’t she?”
“You and Kennedy went to college together?” his mom asked.
“Undergrad, yes,” he said. “And I didn’t love to hate her.”
“Loved her, then, whatever.” Cole had a punch to the face coming if he didn’t shut up.
“Didn’t love her, either.”
“You something’d her,” he insisted. “I vividly remember you complaining about her to me. You guys were always at each other. I thought for sure once you graduated, you were going to bring her home as your girlfriend.”
“I didn’t like her, Cole. And she didn’t like me.”
“I like Dr. Martin,” Jenna said, taking a bite of bacon. “She’s nice and she didn’t freak out like some people do when George says hello.”
“What were you two, then?” Mom asked thoughtfully.
Maverick didn’t meet her eyes. He knew if he did, he’d see more than he wanted to. More questions. Questions like, Are you ready to move on yet? Leave it to Kennedy Martin to not only crash his professional life, but his personal one as well.
“Rivals,” he said. Plain and simple.
“What’s a rival?” Jenna asked.
“An opponent. Someone you compete with,” Bethany told her.
“Did you win, Uncle Mav?”
Maverick finished chewing his food, buying himself a minute to think. If you’d asked him the day after graduation who had won their frequent battles, he would have said himself, no question about it. But over the years, those battles had faded into fond memories rather than hateful ones. Nicole had taught him that. She’d encouraged him to look back with gratitude, that being challenged was a gift, and that he should hold on to the positives rather than the negatives. Kennedy had pushed him to do and be better. He’d always strived to do well, but be the best? Not until he’d met Kennedy.
She brought something out in him no one else had.
“We tied,” he said, reaching over and ruffling his niece’s hair.
Cole chuckled. “Right. The real answer is she kicked his butt.”
“Any other answer is none of your business.”
“Boys.” One word from their dad and they both shut up.
“Whatever she was or wasn’t,” his mom said, “she’s lovely and we owe her a debt of gratitude for coming to Nova’s rescue like she did.”
“I’m happy to show her some appreciation,” Hunter piped in, his plate free of food. He always ate first, talked after.
“Don’t even think about it.” Maverick didn’t need his brother putting the moves on Kennedy. And the reason for that was one he did not intend to examine.
Hunter grinned. “Why not? You planning to show her some personal thanks yourself?”
Maverick pushed his chair back to stand. “Thank you for breakfast.” He took his plate to the sink, rinsed it off, and placed it in the dishwasher. He’d been reacquainted with Kennedy for less than twenty-four hours and, since seeing her again, memories of the two of them were constantly popping up and taking the place of others. The instant connection, if he wanted to call it that, made him…he didn’t know. Confused? Interested? Happy? His jets cooled when he reminded himself exactly why she’d arrived at the ranch.
“Aw, don’t run off,” Cole said. “We’re just happy to see you actually look at a woman again.”
“I’m not looking,” he grumbled.
“It’s okay if you are,” Hunter added.
“Uncle Mav looks at Mommy and Grandma all the time,” Jenna said.
“That’s right.” Maverick’s sour mood lifted. His seven-year-old niece always knew just what to say to help an uncle out. He had a good idea how to show her how much he appreciated her—and how to irritate his older brother at the same time. A win-win after Barley had her puppies and he gifted one to Jenna before he left on his trip. “See you later,” he called over his shoulder, pushing open the door.
“Love you!” his mom called out.
“Love you, too,” he answered.
As much as he looked forward to leaving the ranch for a while, he would miss seeing the faces of his family, even when they butted their noses where they didn’t belong. It means we care, his mom liked to say. He understood that, but the last thing he needed was his mom caring about a certain wedding crasher.
…
A few hours later, it took him only a second to pick Kennedy out of the crowd gathered for the welcome brunch. Sunlight caught her wavy blond hair just right, and she wore the same green wraparound dress she’d worn last night. Green was his favorite color.
Her most obvious feature, however, was the fact that she stood alone near the fence line. He didn’t know the first thing about crashing a wedding, but blending in seemed to be a wiser decision. That she appeared a little lost shouldn’t affect him in the least. He had non-wedding things to do.
And yet, he couldn’t get his feet to move toward the barn. Not yet. Not when he could—should—spare a couple of minutes to make sure trouble hadn’t followed her to the brunch.
“Caught you,” he whispered in her ear, leaning over the fence and also catching a whiff of her feminine scent.
She choked on her mimosa—he felt bad about that—then turned around. Even though he couldn’t see her light brown eyes behind her sunglasses, he had a strong feeling they were sparked with annoyance.
“Not too hard to do,” she said, “since I’m not trying to hide.”
He stood well above the top of the fence and looked down at her with a mix of interest and disbelief. “Then what are you doing?”
She wiggled her nose, like she needed to sneeze. “Brunching, obviously. What are you doing?”
He chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“I like your shades, but you get a little crease in your forehead when you frown at me.”
She relaxed her face. “It’s such a common occurrence, of course you’d notice.”
“I’m pretty sure I should be the one giving you a dirty look.” He took quick stock of the event behind her. “Given you haven’t been invited to this wedding.”
“Shh!” At his raised eyebrows she added, “Please.”
So began a staring contest, just like they used to do in college, each of them unwilling to concede to the other.
A bell chimed. Someone called out, “They’re here!” And a wave of excitement settled over the fifty or so guests.
Kennedy spun around to watch the engaged couple step down from the deck to enter the party. A few seconds later, she glanced over her shoulder at him, her lips pressed together.
“Remember what I said, Shortcake.” He kept his tone friendly but firm.
“Grr.” Her grumble was cute. She loved when he called her Shortcake. Not.
Guests tapped their forks and spoons to their champagne glasses and chanted, “Kiss, kiss…”
The smiling couple obliged, the groom dipping his bride for a kiss. Family and friends cheered and whistled, but Kennedy stayed quiet. With her back to him, he couldn’t read her expression, so he relaxed his arms atop the fence and leaned forward, hoping for a glimpse of her
profile.
“They look happy to me,” he said from over her shoulder.
“Oh, are you still here?” She spun back around, wobbling slightly.
He glanced down her body to see if her heels were stuck in the grass again. But to his surprise—and unwelcome delight—he found her wearing cowboy boots.
“I’m here all week,” he reminded her.
Her gaze moved somewhere beyond him. The sunglasses hid her eyes, but she had another tell: worrying her bottom lip. She wanted him to think she had the situation under control, but she didn’t.
“You’re thinking very hard over there. Don’t hurt yourself,” he teased.
She grinned up at him. “Worried?”
“Hardly.”
“I should get back to my party.”
“Or I could call the police and have you arrested for trespassing.” Yeah, he went there. The truth was, the ranch was private property and that meant he had every right to call the authorities. Not that he really would.
She huffed out a breath. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He lifted his arms off the fence and tipped his cowboy hat to show her who was boss. “You know the deal, Shortcake. No funny business.” With that, he turned and walked away, no doubt leaving her to fume.
…
He wouldn’t call the authorities, would he? Mr. Tall and Teasing just wanted to remind her to keep things on the down low. She could do that. And—wait a second. Was it trespassing if she was a guest of the inn? She didn’t think so. Grr… He could take his warning and shove it up—
“Rule Number Two, hang with the crowd,” Andrew said, coming up beside her.
She drained her mimosa, pushed a certain cowboy from her mind, and spun around. “You’re right. Let’s mingle.”
Andrew gave her his elbow, so she linked their arms. “By the way, you look great in those boots and dress. Country singer vibe all the way.”
“More like country winger, since I’m improvising this, but thanks.”
“Stick with me, Carrie Underwood, and you’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be fine with a glazed doughnut in me and a minute alone with Reed.” She steered Andrew toward the buffet table and the doughnut cake. “Doughnut first.”
“Hello,” said a woman, standing near the table with her own doughnut in hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Hello, I’m Andrew. And this is Kennedy.” No Australian accent on Andrew’s part. Phew.
“Hi.” Kennedy grabbed a doughnut and took a quick bite, not to be rude but because Andrew was much better at this than she was. “Oh my God. This is the best doughnut I’ve ever eaten.”
The woman smiled. “I know. This is my second one. I’m Connie, Elle’s aunt. You must be friends of Reed’s.”
Kennedy almost choked. Nothing like meeting the bride’s aunt their first day crashing.
“We are,” Andrew said, cool as a cucumber. “Hospital friends.”
“You’re doctors, too?”
“Therapists. We run the dance therapy program, second floor, physiotherapy department.”
Kennedy stuffed more doughnut in her mouth. Um, hello? She was a doctor. Why make this more difficult? At least the lie rolled off his tongue with ease and sounded believable.
“Kennedy hates when I share this, but were you a Seinfeld fan?”
Uh-oh.
“I was, yes,” Connie said.
“You know the episode where Elaine dances?”
“How could I forget?”
“That was our Kennedy.”
Connie laughed. “No!”
Kennedy stepped on Andrew’s foot with the heel of her boot. He let out a little grunt. “Yes. After dislocating her hip, she took dance lessons to correct those awkward body mechanics of hers and the rest is history. Dance became her passion and a way to help others.”
“You two will have to lead us in a dance at the reception.”
“Of course,” Andrew deadpanned.
Too bad he was going to be dead when Kennedy killed him long before the reception.
“Connie, it was nice meeting you,” Kennedy said, eager to escape. “Excuse me, would you?” She gave Andrew her empty champagne flute and a look that said, I’ll deal with you later.
She walked toward Reed, willing him to step away from the person he was speaking with to have a quick word with her. When he didn’t, she lingered nearby, waiting for the opportunity. Finally he turned her way.
“Hey,” he said, moving closer. “Thanks for sticking around.”
“Hi. How are you?”
He searched the party, his gaze settling on Elle across the grass. She looked over at them. “I can’t really talk now.”
“Okay. When?”
“I’ll text you tonight or tomorrow.”
“Reed.” She put her hand on his forearm. “I’m worried about you.”
“I know, but you don’t need to be.”
“Are you saying you do want to get married?”
“I’m saying—”
“Reed? Sorry to interrupt, but we need you for a couple of pictures.” The photographer wore a camera with a large lens around her neck. “I’ve got some perfect natural lighting I want to take advantage of.”
“Sure,” he said, giving Kennedy a small smile in goodbye.
Damn it. Something still wasn’t right, and she hoped they got a chance to talk sooner rather than later. The not knowing where he stood gnawed at her.
A tall, dark-haired guy around her age sidled up beside her. “Hey, Elaine, right?”
She glared at Andrew on the other side of the party, laughing like he was the funniest person on the ranch.
“Right,” she said, torn between who was the worst right now, her best friend or Maverick.
Chapter Seven
Five days until the wedding
Maverick tacked up Magnolia for a ride to check the property lines. A Morgan horse, her shiny black coloring and expressive head were but two of her many attributes. Ten years old now, she showed no signs of slowing down, instead happy to stretch her legs at a trot or jump logs and harness race. Her great temperament made it easy on him.
The smell of pine and dirt, wildflowers and ocean, filled his nose as they rode across fields of grass, up and down tree-lined hills, along dirt paths, and finally around the edges of the property.
“Looks good,” he said to Magnolia, eyeing the fencing while they trotted alongside it. He and Hunter had fixed a few broken places earlier in the summer, and he’d be hard-pressed to locate those spots now. On the rare occasion Cole ventured this far out, he’d compliment them until his face turned blue. The last thing their older brother wanted was to have any part of maintaining the physical property. Cole’s expertise was running the inn, from financials to reservations to greeting guests and making sure they enjoyed their stay. Bethany handled the front desk, marketing, and their social media presence.
It was important to Maverick that before he left for his trip, everything was running as smoothly as possible, without any hint of neglect or worry. He’d be back by Thanksgiving at the latest, to help with the influx of work, but that meant for three months nothing could go wrong. In moments like this, if he thought too hard about it, he almost changed his mind about leaving. The guilt of traveling weighed on him, but if he didn’t go, he worried he’d never forgive himself.
“What do you call a horse that can’t lose a race?” he asked aloud.
Magnolia gave a little shake of her head, like she always did.
“Sherbet.”
She nickered, again like always, the weekly joke between them part of their routine. Yep, his horse understood jokes, too.
By midafternoon, they were back at the barn. Maverick led Magnolia to her stall, acutely aware of the woman standing two feet back from George’s enclosure
. She’d changed into jeans and a pale pink T-shirt, brand-new white sneakers on her feet. He wouldn’t call it an improvement over her dress, because she always looked pretty, but it was definitely more practical.
He freed Magnolia of her tack and loved on her for a minute before taking off his cowboy hat and walking over to Kennedy.
“Hey,” he said to his surprise intruder.
“Hi.”
They stood side by side as poor George waited for some tangible attention. Kennedy stood even shorter without heels or the boots, and he couldn’t help but inwardly smile, thinking once again how much she hated being called Shortcake.
“What brings you to my barn this afternoon, Shortcake?”
She ignored the nickname. “I was curious.”
“About mules?”
“Among other things.”
He wasn’t opening that can of worms. No way. “You can touch George if you’d like. He likes ear scratches.”
“He won’t bite?”
“No.”
She kept her feet planted in place and tentatively stretched out her arm, fingers extended.
“He’s more of a nibbler,” Maverick added as George pushed his nose through the gate, startling Kennedy. She whipped her arm back so fast, she almost toppled over.
“Jerk,” she said. He was pretty sure she meant him and not George.
He took her hand in his and brought it to George’s ear. “He really does love to get scratched right here, and his nibbles don’t hurt.”
Her breath caught when he let go, leaving her to rub George on her own, but she kept her hand in place. Her shoulders slowly relaxed.
“How about you take George for a ride?”
“No thanks.”
Hmm…it couldn’t be that easy, could it? “You’re not scared, are you?”
Her jaw tensed. “No.”
“Prove it.”
“Hey, you two.” Hunter strolled into the barn, standing a little straighter than normal, his chest puffing out.
Maverick glared at him. His timing, not to mention posturing, was damn annoying.
The Wedding Crasher and the Cowboy Page 6