Say Yes to a Mess (Dreamspun Desires Book 103)

by Elle Brownlee

  Wiley seemed momentarily frozen, but then he grinned. “Possibly? Whatever he’s doing, this porker is happy.” He scritch-scratched on the pig’s tummy and sides and then gave a sound pat before standing. “We should probably look into the barn and everything.”

  The pig grunted displeasure as Wiley walked away, and Holt laughed.

  “I know how he feels,” Holt teased.

  Wiley blushed, and Holt fought the itch to touch that spot again.

  “What an exactly-how-it-should-be barn.” Wiley hurried into the barn and then stood at its center with his back to the camera. “So, we’d have the reception in here?”

  “That’s my thinking,” Kit said from the huge open doors. “Wire chandeliers from the rafters, long tables so everyone sits family-style, toss some loose hay on the floor for atmosphere. But I’m spray painting the hay gold and wrapping the poles in gauze—bring a touch of glam to things.”

  “And the ceremony?” The words felt funny, and Holt avoided looking at Wiley.

  “Honestly, I think the porch of the farmhouse. The inside is cute, but only the downstairs is available, as it’s lived-in. Way better for a small holiday gathering or some such. At least then there’d be fresh hot cider.” Kit circled both hands to shoo them along. He pivoted to frame the house. “You two on the porch framed by the woodworking, whatever attendants arrayed down the stairs, and everyone standing among the wildflowers. It’d have to be short and sweet for that, but I could make it work.”

  “I’m sure you could.” Wiley let Kit lead him to the car.

  Holt noticed the goat staring at them and went to give it a last pat.

  “Well?” Kit motioned around as Holt joined them.

  “It’s definitely in the running. And better than the golf course.” Wiley turned to Holt. “Agreed, my sweet?”

  Holt swallowed a cough and his eyebrow shot up, more humor than warning. “I’m agreed.”

  “Hooray—we have a chance after all.” Kit applauded. “Now, on we go. Remember, no firm thoughts or decisions until you’ve seen all three places.”

  As Kit pulled away, Holt caught Wiley waving goodbye to the animals.

  Wiley shrugged but his chin went up an increment, so Holt leaned in.

  “We’ll have to see if the pig is available to be a groomsman.” He watched Wiley fight a smile and lounged in the seat, unaccountably satisfied.

  They traversed rural farms and fields and eventually got on the main—and these days, slow—highway leading into town.

  “Third option, almost there.” Kit turned between two river-stone pillars connected by a topiary archway. He stopped in the shadows and twisted to face them. “This time, reserve judgment for once we’re out of the car.”

  “Can do,” Holt agreed.

  Kit speared Wiley with a look.

  “Will do.”

  “Good. Because it’s a glorious wonder. Not to influence you with my expertise, of course.” Kit grinned. He eased off the brake and rolled the car to an opening in the hedges and trees to reveal an imposing Federal-style mansion in white, more river stone, and aproned by enormous porches to either side of its stark front door.

  Kit parked a fair distance from the house and hopped out of the car. “It’s better to see it on approach in the fresh air. Breathe it in—it’s the Goldilocks outdoor venue—whiff of nature and freshness but not close-and-personal nature. If you know what I mean. Come on.”

  Wiley hesitated and glanced at Holt. Then he glanced at the camera and trotted after Kit to the center of the lush green lawn leading up to the grand home. When Holt got to them, he slid his hand into Wiley’s and congratulated himself on not reacting when Wiley jumped at the contact.

  “Behold. Sensational, am I right? Of course I am, don’t answer.” Kit threw back both arms and sucked in a deep breath. He pointed at the east wing porch and dragged that finger through the air across the home. “Vows on one side, pass through the house, reception and cake on the other. Fairy lights, an intimate quartet, yes. I can picture the whole grand affair. You?”

  Holt nodded along. “We could have valet so guests get let off at the starting porch and then there’s not a car logjam.”

  “Ever practical,” Kit said tartly. “Wiley, tell me you’re imagining more than parking logistics.”

  “Going a mile a minute here,” Wiley said, meaningful only to Holt. “Can we see the backyard?”

  “Yes, excellent suggestion. It’s the hidden gem. This way.” Kit slotted his elbow into Wiley’s, tugged, and marched them toward the farther porch.

  It forced Holt to let go of Wiley, but neither of them seemed to notice. He flexed his hand and frowned.

  They stepped onto the porch, and Kit gesticulated and explained reception layout plans. Holt heard candles, copper bundles and rose-gold accents, ivory linen.

  Wide stone stairs were cut into ivy and opened to an enormous oval stone patio backing into trees. Holt thought he could see the river down below.

  Kit grabbed Wiley and started singing the notes to a familiar waltz, off-key and loudly and without shame. He spun Wiley away toward Holt and bowed.

  Wiley bounced against Holt, so Holt sidestepped to catch and then stand behind Wiley, keeping his hands on Wiley’s shoulders. His fingertips grazed Wiley’s throat, slipping under Wiley’s collar. He kept them there.

  Kit moved to the center whorl of the huge stone pavers. “Sarah will do much, much better than I did.”

  Wiley reacted to the name. “Sarah Voss?”

  “The very same.” Kit began to smile.

  “Owns the ballet and partner dance studio on Main Street, Sarah Voss?” Wiley clarified.

  “Got it in one.” Kit’s eyes sparkled dangerously. “Oh, haven’t I told you? That’s your intimacy assignment from me—learning and performing a choreographed first dance. We’ll go right to Sarah’s after you make your venue choice. Isn’t that exciting?”

  Wiley’s pulse fluttered and Holt glanced down. He couldn’t tell if the reaction was excitement or dread.

  His response was wholly dread, and he knew Kit would count on that.

  Kit turned to the camera trailing him. “My dears watching along, I know you all know, but let’s go over what I mean, in case you’re newly tuning in.” He tsked into the camera as if that was unbelievable. “Intimacy assignments are that little extra something every couple gets as a surprise from me, after I spend some time with them and think about their connection and needs. I don’t want just a fabulous wedding—I want a marriage that’ll be fabulous for the ages! So these are to get the couples to dig a bit deeper, maybe get a teensy bit stressed, and make them a whole lot closer by the time they say I do.”

  “Shall we dance?” Kit sashayed and hummed more of the waltz. “I won’t tell you viewers what dance they’ll learn—you’ll have to wait and see! But anyone following our livestreams and social media peeks will get treated to a few spoilers and some of their rehearsals.”

  The camera found them for their reactions. If Holt’s on-camera smile wasn’t so practiced, he’d be grimacing.

  Wiley, despite being pale under the tinge of a high flush, was holding together admirably well.

  “Okay.” Kit clapped. He went to and pushed at Holt and Wiley. “It’s decision time.” He turned back to the camera and monologued that the couple would go have a serious talk, go over the three amazing options he’d provided, and make their decision.

  “That’s our cue,” Holt whispered to Wiley and guided him to one of the stone benches at the back of the patio terrace. He sat purposefully facing the dense woods and planted the heel of his hand at Wiley’s opposite hip.

  “Intimacy assignments in the episodes I watched were crafting a centerpiece for the couple’s table or learning how to make fresh pasta or choosing items from the day spa menu to treat your affianced to.” Wiley’s pulse jumped again. “Dance? We have to learn a dance?”

  “Let’s just… deal with that later. I’ve learned it’s best to deal with one
thing at a time, and at the moment, it’s time to choose the venue.” Holt was impressed with how reasonable he sounded. “What do you think?”

  Wiley repeated several inhale-and-exhale cycles and then nodded. “If it were for me, I think the farmhouse and goats and pig groomsman. But I think for the show this is way better.”

  “You’d be correct.”

  “Which did you like best?” When Wiley resituated so they could look at each other, his back pressed along the length of Holt’s arm.

  Holt hedged. “I’m happy with any of them.” He also liked the farmhouse and goats best, but Wiley’s instincts about wow factor and working easiest within the parameters of the show were dead-on.

  “Liar. You hated the golf course as much as I did.”

  “How about I’m fine with any of them?” Holt tried. “But Wiley. It’s immaterial.”

  Wiley caught on. “Ah, of course. It doesn’t matter anyway since this is fake. We don’t have to pick anything based on actual preference.” He crossed his arms. “We’re agreed here is indeed sensational, it’ll be a fabulous fairy light dream, and Carla’s cake will look amazing on the larger porch. I mean, there’s a reason Kit brought us here last and called it every kind of perfect. And you know, big and fancy with copper and ivory linen accents might be fun. I don’t go for fancy stuff—I should say, I never do anything fancy, that sounds better—I might as well for my wedding nonwedding.”

  Holt didn’t go for fancy either but they were past that point. Wiley seemed past listening, but also, Wiley wasn’t wrong. He tamped down unnecessary annoyance.

  “It’s not only that. Listen before you stomp off.”

  “Stomp off?”

  “I don’t mean that as anything. I just need you to listen before we have to be back on camera. I should have told you this before, but it got away from me.” Holt sliced his hand through the air. “This is all going faster and more out of step than I intended. But look, this place has to be it. Kit booked it weeks ago.”

  “Oh.” Wiley laughed hollowly. “Wow, sure. But of course, of course that’s how it works and I’m an idiot.”

  “You’re not.”

  “Liking the farm and the barn and the pig and thinking I had a choice? Feels a bit that way. At least it was genuine for the camera.” Wiley took on a pleasantly neutral expression and started to stomp off. “Let’s go tell Kit our decision.”

  Holt wanted to point out that was brand strategy, not a decision. That this wedding was Kit’s harebrained idea and they were desperately working a rescue attempt. He lengthened his strides to follow Wiley and caught up easily, managing to get an arm around Wiley’s shoulders as they got to Kit’s anticipatory position at the end of the patio.

  “And?” Kit clasped his hands under his chin and acted like he had no idea what they’d decide.

  Wiley surprised Holt by answering for them.

  “And you showed us some wonderful options, but as we talked about it, we realized there’s no contest—it has to be here.” Wiley smiled up at Holt. “But we’re definitely going apple picking in the fall.”

  Holt rocked them side to side as if to agree and let his camera smile slide into place.

  Kit fairly squealed with delight. “I knew this would be the one. It was made for you.” He swept his arms around. “We’ll do bare bulb strings of lights over the patio here, and guests will be free to come and go from inside. I’m thinking paper lanterns in the surrounding trees. All rose gold and white, of course.”

  Wiley nodded along. “Of course. That sounds, well, perfect.”

  “And it’s just the start!” Kit launched at them and gave them a hug. “There’s more to discuss and decide about the décor, but that’s a different day’s layering task. For the rest of today, well…. Come along, time to meet Sarah and your dancing fate.”

  “Do we really have to start that today?” Holt was ready to go to the hotel and decompress—off camera—so that was the last thing he wanted to hear.

  Kit paused and planted a hand on his hip. “You’re getting married in less than a month, darling brother. We should have started yesterday.”

  Wiley didn’t grumble like Holt, but he did use Holt’s momentary stillness to escape Holt’s arm and walk with Kit to the car.

  Holt grumbled deeper, mugged for the camera because this was something he was expected to want to do in the end, and retrained his focus. Day one and they were doing well. They had the venue sorted, and the rest should fall into place. A dance was merely another problem to tackle, figure out, and solve. Since that was his role on the show, he should be able to do it handily.

  WILEY climbed the stairs to Sarah’s dance studio and tried to decide if he could just not. He couldn’t see any reason to learn a dance for a reception for a wedding that wasn’t going to happen. Making decisions that were already decided was bad enough.

  On the way here there wasn’t any bringing that up to discuss with Kit because of Elaine and Rick. It would have been the best opportunity, as Kit was buoyant after the venue selection.

  He sighed and pictured wildflowers, farmland, a happy pig, a relaxed Holt with that adorable goat and Holt taking the time to tell it goodbye.

  But liking wildflowers wasn’t the point. A dramatic, elegant, magazine-perfect setting for Kit to gild was. Wiley repeated that distinction the rest of the day. He should make it his mantra for getting through the rest of filming.

  Wiley stopped and squished to the side at the top landing so the camera could stay with Kit. Holt stopped two stairs down, and Wiley should be annoyed Holt was still taller than him but…. No. Waves of body heat drenched him and he shivered.

  “Sarah?” Kit called from the studio doorway and tiptoed inside.

  As soon as the door was clear, Wiley rushed in after him. He shivered again, this time from a sudden chill.

  The space was as he’d always pictured a dance studio should be, open with sunlight from the tall banks of windows at either end flooding the room and bouncing off the gleaming floor. Mirrors lined one long wall, and benches and cubbies lined the other.

  “Welcome, welcome.” Sarah stood tall in a black leotard, frothy skirt, legwarmers, and layers of scarves, her long silver hair in a tight bun. In her sixties, she was an institution in Odalia, teaching generations of little ballet prima-wannabes and nervous teens wanting to impress at prom.

  Wiley had never been before—not like there was money for extras, and he’d never yearned to be the nutcracker prince or whatever—but he’d seen Sarah around town, and they’d chatted at some town events. He hoped she’d be merciful.

  Kit was well into enthusing for the camera. “Everyone, say hello to the true diva of Odalia, Sarah Voss. A study in steely eleganza. Can you believe Sarah gave me my first comportment and movement lessons when I knew I was destined for performance? And here I am, back again—I love a full circle moment.” He somehow made the introduction about him, but charmingly so.

  He moved fluidly in relation to the camera and Sarah, positioning for the best angles and framing of what he wanted in the shot. Wiley had paid attention and jotted mental notes throughout the day for future reference.

  After an explanatory conversation between Kit and Sarah about the dance and its purpose, Kit winked and headed for the door.

  “Have fun, you two. We’re not showing any dancing tonight, so we don’t embarrass the lovebirds at their first lesson. See you tomorrow—décor and more, so get primed for monogram fonts and tablecloth colors and centerpiece containers. Good night from Odalia!” Kit waved and then halted without leaving. “Good?”

  Rick gave a thumbs-up. “We’ve stopped recording and streaming.” He wore a rig with a digital camera and a small cube webcam attached, which he constantly fiddled with. Wiley hadn’t yet learned to tune it out.

  “Great.” Kit crossed back to Sarah. “Thanks for doing this, Sarah. It’s so special that you agreed, and I know my dear gumdrops are in excellent hands.”

  Kit waved in their general directio
n and actually left.

  Wiley inched closer to Holt and whispered, “Is that all, do you think?”

  “I can only hope.”

  Holt sounded so pressed about it that Wiley bristled. Ridiculous, since he didn’t want to dance either. But bristled.

  Elaine sat on a bench and opened her show binder. “That’s today’s locations done. We have plenty of establishing and fill shots for the venue segment. I think…. Rick, let’s just do a few staged here and we can call it a day. Since the dance needs to be a huge reveal at the wedding, we don’t want to film much.”

  Wiley imagined the words internal screaming flashing on repeat. He and Holt would have to do this, at least to some extent, since Elaine and Rick and Sarah didn’t know it was for show. For the show.

  He did not deserve this. He should be making macaroni art canisters to hold the pens for signing the guestbook. He merited way more than learning a stupid dance they wouldn’t even perform, given his whole volunteering to not torpedo the episode and make the show and Kit and Holt look absurd and cause a network and gossip meltdown.

  Or it was exactly what he deserved for agreeing to this.

  “We put ourselves at your mercy and expertise, Ms. Voss,” Holt said with real charm.

  “Miss Sarah. It’s what all my students call me.”

  “Very good. Miss Sarah.” Holt slid his hand into Wiley’s and gave it a light shake. “I promise not to step on your toes any more than I can help it.”

  Wiley noticed Rick filming again. He looked down at Holt’s hand in his and thought oh, right, and went with the impulse to go onto his toes and kiss Holt’s cheek.

  Holt’s grip tightened almost painfully.

  “Gee, thanks.” Wiley grinned at Sarah. “He’s such a real gentleman, always thinking of things like that.”

  Sarah smiled and pulled something up on her phone. “Kit and I agreed you both were best suited to a traditional partner dance. I’ve put together a playlist of options—see what you think. The music needs to be something that makes you want to dance.”

  Wiley accepted the phone and held it so he and Holt could read as he scrolled the titles. He lingered over one long enough before continuing to scroll for Holt to flip the screen back to that song.