A Country Wedding

by Duncan Leigh

  “I shouldn’t have done that.” Misery moved into Bradley’s eyes and set up shop. “All right, I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I just—I just got caught up in the music and the…and the moment.”

  “So that’s all that was? You got” —she sneered—“caught up in the moment.”

  “Yeah.”

  She dried her tears with the backs of her hands. Did he make a habit of kissing other women whenever the moment was right? She didn’t want to believe that he’d lie and cheat, that he thought that kind of behavior was acceptable. He was better than that, wasn’t he? She studied his firmly set jaw, peered into the eyes that refused to meet her own. Maybe he was afraid. The year he’d turned thirteen, he’d lost the two people he’d loved the most in the world. Something like that had to have left scars.

  “Look. I get that you’re scared.” She sighed. “Okay. You got your heart broken as a kid. And you are afraid to love too much, ever again.”

  “Nah.” Bradley gave his head an emphatic shake. Without saying another word, he walked away from her.

  His denial only reinforced her certainty that she was on the right track. Refusing to let him go until she’d said her piece, she dogged his footsteps. “Well, you know what? Love is scary! It’s terrifying to put your heart out there.” She should know. She was shaking in her boots right now.

  “But you do it anyway. You do it in spite of the fear. Because a life without love, that’s just half a life. And you don’t get married ‘cause you like the same things. And ‘cause you live similar lifestyles.” Unable to stop them, she scrubbed at the tears that streamed down her cheeks. “You get married ‘cause you can’t stand the thought of not being together. You get married ‘cause you love the other person. With your whole heart.”

  Like I love you.

  Disbelief marched across Bradley’s face. “That’s just—that’s just a fantasy.”

  “Maybe it is,” she admitted. Her energy spent, she softened. “But I don’t think you should settle for less.”

  In her dreams, this was the moment when Bradley came to his senses. When he realized he didn’t love Catherine Mann. When he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was the woman he loved. This was the part where he’d sweep her off her feet and promise that, no matter what the future had in store for them, they’d face it together. Forever.

  But this wasn’t a dream. And Bradley, apparently, was no knight in shining armor. The man country music fans all but worshipped shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. His expression hardening, he leaned forward until mere inches separated his face from hers. “You know, just ‘cause you knew me when I was a kid, it doesn’t mean you know me now.”

  What little fight Sarah had left in her rode out on a long exhale. Shame on her. She had no one to blame but herself for seriously misjudging Bradley. Empty inside, she wiped her eyes. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” It was time to end this. “Look. You and me had a deal, okay. You’d help me mend my fences” —she nodded to the sturdy fencing that surrounded the ranch— “and I’d help you plan your wedding.” Her voice caught. “So…” Aware that she was seconds away from breaking down completely, she hurried to get the words out. “I guess we’re done.”

  She spun toward her truck. She might as well admit it—she’d been wrong about Bradley all along. Though he didn’t love Catherine Mann, he’d gotten himself engaged to marry her. And even after she’d shown him all the reasons why going forward with the wedding was the wrong thing to do, he was determined to see it through. Well, she’d done all she could do to change his mind.

  Not really caring where they landed, she tossed her work gloves among the flowers in the bed of her truck. Emotionally wrung out, she jerked the driver’s door open, slid behind the wheel and, wanting, needing to put as much distance between them as possible, drove away.

  In the rearview mirror, Bradley stood in the middle of the driveway and stared after her. She wrenched her gaze forward. The kiss they’d shared meant nothing. Bradley Suttons wasn’t her Mr. Forever. He wasn’t even close.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “This is me. Who are you?”

  Sitting on the edge of his bed, Bradley plowed his fingers through his hair. Not so long ago, he’d thought Catherine’s voicemail message was every bit as cute as his bride-to-be. Not anymore. Not when she let his calls go to voicemail far more often than she picked up. Wasn’t he every bit as important as whatever she happened to be doing at the moment?

  “Hey, Catherine. It’s me,” he said at the beep. After a sleepless night and an equally restless day, he wished his was the one phone call she always rushed to answer. Or that she wanted to spend time with him more than she wanted to do anything else in the world. But that wasn’t the kind of relationship they’d signed on for, and they both knew it. “Call me when you get this?” he finished. “We need to talk.”

  A knock on the door downstairs made his stomach clench. “Sarah?” His heart pounded.

  Instantly on his feet, he hustled toward the stairs. It was about time Sarah showed up. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the girl next door since their talk yesterday, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. He’d scoured the barn looking for her, but she must have gotten an early start because, by the time he’d shown up at sunrise, every stall had been mucked and the horses put out to pasture. When she hadn’t been in the garden, he’d returned to his house, where he’d stared out the window at her ranch for another full hour, hoping to catch sight of her. But she, like Catherine, was nowhere to be found.

  Cutting through the living room that boasted a comfortable, lived-in look thanks to the countless hours he’d spent unpacking and cleaning, he practiced what he’d say when he answered the door.

  First off, he owed Sarah a huge apology. He’d had no right to treat her the way he had. She’d meant well, even if they’d never be on the same page as far as marriage and relationships went. She was the closest thing he had to family in this part of the country. Like all relatives, they’d have their disagreements, but they’d always be friends. Best friends. That would never change. No matter what happened between them, he wanted her at his wedding. She had to be there. Eager to convince her, he pulled the door wide.

  But it wasn’t Sarah who stood on his porch. It was Catherine. His mouth gaped open. He closed it. Opened it again. “Catherine! You’re here!”

  “Uh-huh.” An instant later, his arms filled with her soft curves. The signature cologne that reeked of money and prestige filled his nose as Catherine pressed the length of her body against his. Bouncy curls that didn’t feel nearly as soft as they looked brushed his shoulders when she nestled against his neck. “We’re getting married in a couple of days,” she murmured in a breathy on-screen voice. “I thought it was time I reclaimed my cowboy.” Cupping her elegantly manicured fingers around his cheeks, she lingered a bit too long over a welcoming kiss.

  Bradley firmly set her at arm’s length. “Let me get your bags.” Confusion swirled in his head while he dashed onto the porch. Wheeling her small suitcase and overnight case into the room a second later, he fought a sudden nervousness while his bride-to-be surveyed the house he’d worked so hard to bring back to life.

  “I thought you were selling this place.” Catherine cast a wary glance at the floor as if she half expected to spot a cow patty in the living room. Careful lest the white designer frock she wore brush against any of the furniture, she paced the middle of the room. “Wasn’t that the whole point of coming here?”

  “Well, I—I was.” Bradley tucked her luggage into one corner. “Then I got here and realized, maybe, I should hold onto it.” He skimmed his fingers over his dad’s old recliner.

  “Why?”

  “Well, I grew up here. This is my home.” He fought to overlook the condescension in Catherine’s tone. She didn’t know that his mom had sewn the curtains on the windows. That his father had carved t
he mantle out of solid maple. Or that every piece of furniture, every picture on the wall held a special place in his heart. He moved toward his bride-to-be. “Listen, I’m so glad you’re here. I learned so much about myself over the last couple of weeks.”

  They had a lot to discuss. He’d tell her all about the songs he’d written. About his new skill at horseback riding. About the fish he’d caught down at the fishing hole. She’d fill him in on everything she’d been doing while they were apart.

  Catherine traced one long, red nail through the air in a circle centered on his chest. “What are you wearing?”

  He glanced down at the pair of well-worn jeans and denim shirt he’d pulled from one of the trunks upstairs. “Just some old clothes. Work clothes.”

  “Work?” Catherine sniffed.

  What did she think he was supposed to do—hire an army of strangers to unpack his parents’ belongings, tend to his mother’s roses, mend Sarah’s fences? He took a breath. “Look. I thought we could keep this house. As a home base. For when we’re not working. Then, we could spend time here with our children. Teach them how to fish and ride horses. Give ‘em something real. Something out of the spotlight.”

  “Our—our children?” Catherine’s nervous laughter sent a shiver down his spine.

  “You want to have children, don’t you?” Despite his best efforts, he frowned. “I mean, I—I know we never discussed it, but…”

  Catherine gave her head a dismissive shake. “We love each other, and we’re getting married.” The tips of her nails dug into his skin when she placed the palm of one hand on his chest. “We have a lifetime to learn everything we need to know about each other.” Cupping his chin again, she pressed in to brush his lips with a tender kiss. “I want what you want.”

  He fought to keep his balance. Catherine’s response hadn’t told him a thing. Did she mean she wanted the house…or the children…or the whole package? Before he had a chance to ask, she pushed away from him. As if she couldn’t wait to go someplace else, be someplace else, she flounced toward the stairs. “So, why don’t I get changed. And you can make reservations someplace nice. And we can go out on the town and celebrate.”

  Feeling a little like he was playing a role in one of her movies, Bradley stuck his hands in his pockets. Barely five minutes had passed since Catherine had breezed back into his life, and they’d already hit a snag. “Well, there’s a diner in town, but there aren’t any fancy restaurants close by.”

  Catherine’s eyebrows dipped low. “Where do people eat?”

  He laughed. Only someone who’d been born with the proverbial silver spoon in their mouth would ever ask such a question, but he’d answer it. “At home. They cook.”

  Catherine’s eyes widened. Her jaw unhinged. Seeing the concerned look that bordered on fear on her face, Bradley took pity on her. She was his fiancée, after all. She couldn’t help it if her idea of a home-cooked meal was take-out from a five-star restaurant. She’d never known any other kind of life. He cupped her shoulders in his hands. “It’s going to be great,” he promised. “Okay? We’re gonna get up early tomorrow morning. I’m gonna take you on that hike. Then, we can go fishing. You’re going to love it. I promise.”

  The tiniest bit of skepticism faded from Catherine’s eyes. She gave her head a gentle shake that didn’t disturb her carefully coifed hair. “As long as we’re together, everything’s perfect.”

  Moments later, Bradley placed Catherine’s luggage in the guest room. As he laid out fresh towels for his soon-to-be-bride, he paused. Catherine had said all the right things, offered all the right assurances. Why then, had he heard a false note in her voice? Why didn’t her actions, her emotions, ring true?

  He shrugged. After this much time apart, they both probably had a case of pre-wedding jitters and were trying too hard. Things would smooth out between them once they’d had a chance to spend more time together. At least, he hoped they would.

  “Have you, uh, seen your neighbor?” In a series of dainty steps, Catherine eased down the muddy incline to the beach where fist-sized rocks covered the ground. “The one who sent you the ring?”

  “Sarah?” Toting an ice chest, the tackle box, and two fishing rods, plus a backpack filled with what Catherine had termed “essentials,” Bradley waited for his fiancée to catch up. “Yeah, she has a horse rescue ranch next door.” He lifted their two fishing poles in the direction of the neighboring property.

  “Wonderful.” Catherine’s focus on her shoes, she slowly picked her way across the rocks.

  “She depends on funding to keep it running. I’m not sure she got it.” Though Sarah had insisted that her grant had come through, he wasn’t sure he believed her. “I offered to help, but she’s too stubborn to let me.”

  In a tone that said she probably wouldn’t be half as generous, Catherine murmured, “You’re such a good man.”

  “The bank’s threatening to sell the ranch if she doesn’t come up with the money soon.”

  “What a shame.”

  “She’s a great girl. She helped us plan our whole wedding.” He hoped Sarah and Catherine would get along, especially since they’d be neighbors soon. Despite the fight they’d had the last time he’d seen her, he still considered Sarah his best friend.

  A bleating noise rose over the sound of babbling water, the rustle of wind in the trees, the bird calls. He glanced over one shoulder at Catherine. His fiancée had stopped to chat with someone on the cell phone she carried with her wherever she went. The one she rarely answered when he called. He ground his back teeth together. “Hello!”

  Feeling a little like an intruder, he listened as she gave the caller directions to the ranch. “What was that all about?” he asked when she slipped the phone back into her pocket.

  “I just ordered a few things to make our wedding a little more comfortable.” Catherine’s voice dropped to a whisper while, hips swaying, she moved toward him.

  “I told you, I took care of it.” For two weeks straight, he and Sarah had spent every spare minute planning the special day. They’d covered every possible detail. “I ordered a cake. And flowers. And—”

  “And I’m sure you did a great job,” Catherine said, making it sound as if nothing he and Sarah had done could possibly live up to her standards. “But we’ll have our rehearsal dinner and our sweet, little barn wedding. And then we’ll get to Italy and” —she sighed—“back to our real lives.”

  Her tone set his teeth on edge, and he stiffened. He and Sarah had worked hard, very hard, to plan the perfect wedding for Catherine. To have her downplay their efforts, well, it just wasn’t right. But then again, nothing else about his fiancée’s trip had gone according to plan. He thought they’d agreed on an early morning fishing trip but, claiming the hamburgers he’d fried for their supper last night had left her nauseated, his bride-to-be had slept in this morning. When she finally had gotten out of bed, she’d screamed bloody murder after her hour-long shower had drained the hot water tank. Her insistence on spending another hour in front of the mirror before she’d declared herself ready to step onto the porch had tested his patience. He’d nearly lost it completely when she’d taken one look at the horses he’d saddled and had quietly announced that she didn’t know how to ride. Apparently, a stunt double handled all the horseback scenes in her movies. Who knew? Certainly not him. He’d never been invited to visit one of her movie sets. When they’d finally headed for the creek on foot, Catherine hadn’t complained. Not exactly. But she had pointed out that her Valentino ballet flats weren’t up to the rigors of walking through fields and over rocks.

  He’d been seriously tempted to ask why she hadn’t packed a pair of boots when she’d known all along he planned to take her hiking and fishing. But they’d both been on edge this morning, and the odds were that Catherine would take the question as criticism, something she didn’t deal well with. Rather than running the risk of ruining
their day altogether, he’d opted for the high road.

  Catherine hadn’t grown up on a ranch. Maybe she hadn’t realized how a walk through the forest differed from a walk in the park. She certainly had no idea how much work he and Sarah had put into cleaning the barn or seeing to the hundred-and-one other details for the wedding. He gave himself a stern reminder that his bride was probably feeling out of place and uncertain. Hadn’t he felt the same way the first time he’d stepped on stage in Nashville? The first time he’d been interviewed on live television? Catherine had helped him past those milestones. Now it was his turn to return the favor.

  “All right.” He straightened his hat. If she wanted to add a few fancy touches to make herself feel more at home during the ceremony, he’d go along with that.

  Standing in the middle of the river a short while later, Bradley cast his line clear to the other bank. As his lure drifted down stream, he glanced at Catherine. Had he been wrong to overrule her pleas to stay on dry ground? He shook his head. Wading into the water was half the fun of fishing. Certain she’d enjoy the sport if she gave it half a chance, he’d helped her don a pair of waders. He’d held her hand while she’d navigated the slippery, moss-covered river bed. He’d covered all the basics, even thrown out her line for her. Not that it had done any good. She hadn’t made a single cast, hadn’t once jiggled her lure. How was she going to catch a fish if she didn’t even try? He crossed his fingers. Catherine might look bored now, but wait until she felt the first tug on her line, landed her first fish. He and Sarah had laughed and jumped around like a pair of kids the day he’d caught that big trout. He wanted to share that same experience with his fiancée.

  “You know, I love this place,” he told her while he made another long cast.