“Good measure for a mate.”
“I just meant that she fits into my lifestyle well. That’s important.”
“She sounds perfect,” Matt conceded.
“Pretty damned close.” Again that dubious and cautious look that he’d grown up with. “What, Matt? Do I sense some concern?”
“Nope, at least not on my part. Anything else?”
Alex thought for a minute, looking off into the distance to the north. “Yeah. I know she’ll stick around.”
“Well, whatever the reason, I like her. She’s very different from the women you’ve been dating recently.”
“Yeah,” Alex grinned. “She is definitely different from them. She’s great.”
“Better be talking about me.” Sophie came up behind him and slid her hand inside of his.
“Hi, honey. Looks like everyone’s here. Ready to tell them the news?”
“I think your mom already knows. She’s smiling from ear to ear and keeps looking at me funny, probably wondering why I’ve been keeping my hand in my pocket since we got here.”
“You could have taken the ring off for a while.”
She reached up and kissed him. “Not a chance.”
“Sean’s on his way over,” Matt interrupted. “We should wait for him.”
“He’ll find out soon enough.” Alex took a deep breath and opened the screen door. “Let’s get this over with.”
Matt noticed the frown that Sophie tried unsuccessfully to hide. He slipped an arm across her shoulders and whispered, “He’s just not big on the family gushing.”
“Thanks,” she whispered back, and he wondered just how well she knew his best friend.
Chapter 4
Five minutes later, two bottles of champagne had been opened and poured and Alex’s grandparents, parents, sister, and best friend were lined up to hug the happy couple. If they toasted them anymore, Sophie feared she would be drunk before they served lunch. How not to make a good impression.
They were munching on cheese and french bread when another cousin arrived. Alex hugged him and motioned for Sophie to join them.
After Alex made the introductions, Sean McCullough said, “So this is your beautiful bride-to-be.” He resembled his three cousins with the thick dark hair and deep blue eyes that seemed to be even more intense than the others’. Sophie wondered if all of the McCullough cousins had those features. That would certainly help her recognize them. Sean was a couple inches taller than Alex and Matt, but apparently the youngest of the three. He looked as if he worked out even more than Alex did.
There was something different about this cousin. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe it was the way he was staring at her. Whatever it was, it was unnerving and made her feel uncomfortable for the first time since she had arrived at the family ranch.
“Have you warned Sophie what she’s in for, marrying into the McCullough family?” Sean asked.
“And have her run for her life?” Alex wrapped his arm possessively around Sophie’s shoulders. “Are you crazy?”
Sean looked at her hard, raising a single eyebrow as if advising his cousin to definitely let her run for her life. She wished she could read his mind. Unless she was just being overly sensitive and completely misreading his body language, he was the first critical McCullough in the crowd. Did he think she wasn’t good enough? Was he that protective of his cousin? She shook off her thoughts, attributing them to her overactive imagination. More likely than not, it had nothing to do with her.
“Alex, pour Sean a glass of champagne,” Nan Jameson called out from behind the kitchen counter where she was busy setting out a platter of turkey and ham sandwiches and homemade potato chips.
“I think he’d prefer a beer, Mom.” Alex headed for the refrigerator where he was intercepted by his grandparents for more hugs and congratulations.
“Doesn’t look like he’ll be coming back anytime soon,” Sean said.
“Is he right?” Sophie asked. “About the beer?”
Sean laughed. “’Fraid so. I’ve never been much for champagne.”
Sophie glanced down at her glass. Not her preference either, she had to admit. But she was enjoying the enthusiastic celebration of their engagement.
“So, how did you meet my cousin?”
“At the dentist.” She wondered why she had refrained from spewing forth the whole story that she had repeated at least twice already today.
“It doesn’t get more romantic than that—meeting while you’re waiting to get your teeth drilled.”
“Cleaned.” But it wasn’t any more romantic.
“Do I get to see the ring?” Sean took her hand and studied the engagement ring that sat comfortably on her finger. “Nice. Very nice.”
“But?” She had noticed his wrinkled brow.
“No, I’m impressed. I was sure Alex would have chosen one—”
“Bigger?” Sophie offered.
Sean laughed. She knew Alex’s taste. “Yeah. Bigger.”
“He did.” She was smiling now. “I exchanged it.”
“Good decision.” Sean was studying her smile, still having trouble releasing her hand. “Uh, I bet those nails must have set you back some.”
Jolted from her moment of vanity for having selected a nice, albeit sensible, ring, Sophie looked up to meet his eyes. Was he criticizing her nail polish? He definitely wasn’t like the other McCulloughs who were so warm and friendly . and nonjudgmental.
Sean shrugged as he looked up from the hand that she had yanked out of his grip. “No offense. It’s just— they’re kind of a waste here, unless you plan on not doing anything while you’re staying on the ranch.”
Sophie glared at him. So, she wasn’t wrong about the hostility. Or about his critical nature. But she still loved this ranch and Alex’s family, at least most of the members she’d met so far.
“Excuse me. I think I’ll get a glass of water.”
“Might want to rethink the designer jeans too,” Sean said. “This was a working ranch last time I checked.”
“Thanks for the advice.” She stared him directly in the eye. “Good thing I thought to throw in my thrift-shop overalls.”
Sean smiled as she walked away. Skye was absolutely right. Even the beauty-shop nails and the designer jeans could not cover up the fact that Sophie Weldon was not Alex’s type, not one inch of her was.
As much as she hated to admit it, Sean McCullough had a good point. Sophie pulled the last of her clothes from her suitcase. She had not brought anything appropriate to wear around the ranch—at least not outside of the house and garden. She’d thrown in three pairs of jeans and one sweat suit, but they were all clothes Alex had bought for her, all designer. Even her shoes and boots.
She longed for her old jeans and sweats that sat at the bottom of her dresser drawer at the condo. And especially the denim overalls that she’d bought at—no, not a thrift store—but at the Santa Barbara farmers market when she was visiting her best friend last summer. She suddenly felt like talking to Arielle. It had been too long. Way too long. As soon as she had a chance, she would call her and tell her about the engagement. But right now she had other things to deal with.
She found Alex’s sister, Anne, in the kitchen putting away the last of the clean dishes. “I’m sorry, I should have stayed down and helped you!” Sophie said.
“Don’t be silly. You had unpacking to do. Besides, you’re our guest of honor. We’re just so happy to have you here.”
Sophie felt herself blushing. Apparently she was no better at handling family gushing than Alex was.
Anne closed the cupboard on the last dish. “Don’t worry. After one day, you won’t be considered a guest and we’ll put you to work.”
“Good. I’d like that. Where is everyone else?”
“Grandparents went home. Sean and Matt went back to work. Dad went back out on the ranch to do some fence mending or whatever it is he occupies himself with.”
“And Alex and your mom?”
Good news. That meant he’d left the car and she could make a run into town to buy some more appropriate clothes for the ranch. “I was wondering—Is there a store where I could get a pair of jeans? The ones I brought are kind of—”
“Expensive?” Anne asked and Sophie laughed. “Let me guess. Alex chose them.”
“Pretty much.”
“He does like his designer labels, at least recently.”
“He hasn’t always been like that?” Sophie looked around the casual country home and setting.
Anne sighed and came around the counter. “Let’s just say, he took to city life like a McCullough to Belhaven. But, no need to buy some more practical ones. I have plenty you can borrow.”
Anne whisked her upstairs and pulled six pairs of jeans out of her dresser. “Try these.”
Sophie tried them on, but unfortunately Anne had a slender dancer’s build and was close to five-foot seven, a good three inches taller that she was.
“Hmm,” Anne said, “I don’t think this is going to work. But we have a couple other options. I think Skye is about your height and build.”
“Skye?” Sophie remembered hearing that name on Alex’s list in the car. “Another cousin?”
“Yep. She lives next door at her parents’—at least for now. You’ll meet her tomorrow at the picnic.”
“Picnic?”
“Mom and Dad decided to resurrect our summer kick-off picnic this year. They’ve scheduled it for tomorrow so you can meet everyone.”
“Everyone?” Sophie sank down onto Anne’s bed.
“Don’t worry, there won’t be a quiz,” Anne said. “We won’t expect you to have everyone’s name and face memorized at least for a week.”
She and her brother might not have similar taste in clothes, but at least they had the same sense of humor.
“Not everyone is in town anyway. But I’ll stick close to you, don’t worry.”
“Thanks.” Sophie accepted Anne’s warm hug. She was helping make up for one cousin in particular whose manner was less than friendly.
“I could call Skye and see where she is. Maybe she could bring you a pair of jeans if she’s not at the pub.”
“She hangs out at the pub?”
Anne laughed. “Works there. Local bartender. But she might be home today working on her jewelry. She’s also one of the artists in the bunch.”
“So are you. Aren’t you the dancer?”
“Yep,” Anne said proudly. “I’m the dancer. Or, if we can’t track Skye down, there’s always the general store in the village. They carry everything, even jeans.”
“Great! Maybe I could take a run into the village while Alex is off with your mom.”
“You can come in with me. I have to teach a dance class in about a half hour. You can wander around the village while I’m teaching. It will only be a couple hours.”
“Perfect!” Sophie ran across the hall and grabbed her purse. She would get to see the idyllic village that she’d caught a glimpse of on her way to the ranch.
Anne drove her around the loop pointing out The Village Pub which was owned by a McCullough aunt and uncle and The Thistle and Ivy Bed and Breakfast that was owned by a McCullough aunt—Ivy, of course—and uncle, and The Canden Valley General store which was owned by the McCullough grandparents, finally pulling up outside the dance studio which was owned by her parents.
“Do people who aren’t related to your family get intimidated?” she asked.
“As in, ‘I owe my soul to the company store?’ Actually we’re well-loved in these parts. We provide a lot of the jobs, to say nothing of our charm and good looks.”
Sophie laughed. She felt as if she and Anne had been friends for years. She actually felt more comfortable with her after a few hours than she did with most of Alex’s friends in the city.
After Anne showed her the dance studio, Sophie walked the one block to the general store, inhaling the scent of roses and jasmine as she passed The Thistle and Ivy Bed and Breakfast. It was a couple minutes before she could pull herself away from the beautiful garden that graced the front yard of the Victorian manor. This could easily become her favorite spot on the planet, she decided, closing her eyes and inhaling the delicious scents once more before continuing on. All of Canden Valley could.
Judging from the old-fashioned frontage of the Canden Valley General store and the wooden sidewalk and steps, it might just beat out the B and B. Her breath caught when she opened the doors to an enchanting old-fashioned store that carried everything from jewelry and denim jeans to books and newspapers to homemade jam and wooden toys and penny candy for a quarter.
But the determining factor which told her she would forever after have a relationship with the Canden Valley General Store was the old-fashioned ice cream soda fountain. She could not resist. She settled onto the red leather seat of one of the barstools, spinning herself in a circle, grateful that no one was around to see her. Laughing at herself, she snatched up a menu and read it top to bottom. She literally felt like a kid in a candy shop. Outings like this had been so rare when she was growing up, that she had learned to cherish every minute she was out with her mother. Once a year, her mother had given in and taken her to an eat-in ice cream shop. But none was as wonderful as this.
“Sorry, we don’t serve tiramisu or crème brulee here.”
“Oh, it’s you.” Grateful that he hadn’t appeared sooner and caught her spinning around on the barstool like a little kid, she looked up as Sean McCullough made his way toward her. The pony tail she was wearing to tame her shoulder-length curls offered enough fodder for humiliation.
“Yeah, it’s me. So, what did you want?”
“As delicious as they sound, I think I’ll have to pass on the crème brulee and tiramisu.” She started to close the menu but decided that she was not going to let her soon-to-be cousin-in-law ruin her enchantment with this store or her mood. “Do you have chocolate syrup?”
“Considering that we serve chocolate sundaes, it’s a pretty good bet that we do. What, you’re settling for—let me guess—a small scoop of vanilla ice cream with just a dab of chocolate on top?”
Sophie smirked at him. “Not quite. A chocolate soda with two scoops of chocolate chip ice cream—extra large scoops.”
With some effort, Sean scowled at her. “We don’t have chocolate sodas on the menu.”
“Clearly, but since you have chocolate syrup and soda water”—she nodded toward the fountain dispenser—”it’s a pretty good bet that you can make one,” she mocked in return.
She pulled a quarter out of her pocket and slipped it into the mini juke box on the counter and pressed B6 to select “The Nearness of You.” But the buttons stuck and no music emerged. “How do you—?” she stopped herself, deciding that she’d just as soon not give Sean McCullough more ammunition against her.
He turned around and smiled. “Not rocket science.” He hit the top of the machine with his fist, causing Ella Fitzgerald’s voice to infiltrate the room.
“Why thank you very much.” She smirked at him. She could rise above his rudeness. It might take every ounce of strength she had, but by the end of her visit to Canden Valley, she was going to convince Sean McCullough that she was good enough to marry into his family.
Sean groaned and turned toward the bar, snatched a large soda glass off the shelf, and poured some chocolate syrup into the bottom. After a moment of staring at the chocolate glob at the bottom of the glass, he turned back to face her.
“Not rocket science,” she said, scolding herself for joining in his nasty exchange. She jumped off the barstool and walked around behind the bar. Reluctantly he let her take the glass out of his hand. She grabbed the soda water dispenser and squirted a little bit of soda into it as she stirred the chocolate. After doing this three times—she had watched the process every chance she got when she was growing up—she handed it back to him. You can put in the ice crea
m now. Gently. So as not to spill the soda? You think you can handle that?”
Gloating, she walked back around the counter to her lovely red leather barstool that spun in circles. She had won this round, she thought. But she was certainly not going to let him win the next one by buying a pair of jeans at the general store and giving him the satisfaction of knowing that he was right about her designer clothes being inappropriate for Canden Valley and a horse ranch.
Alex climbed down from his horse and watched his fifty-three-year-old mother slide from her saddle to the ground. She still made it look a lot easier than it was.
“Great ride,” he admitted.
“It was good.” She led the filly toward the stalls, Alex following behind with one of the quarter horses he had trained before he had moved away from Canden Valley.
After untacking and grooming the horses and putting them in their stalls, they walked back to the house together.
“Next time maybe Sophie can join us,” Nan said.
“She’s never ridden.”
“First time for everything. You should teach her.”
“Maybe.”
Nan stopped walking and studied her son carefully. “Why the hesitation?”
“Well, there’s really no point. We live in San Francisco for God’s sake.”
“And?”
Alex shook his head, hoping the subject and the questions would go away. They didn’t.
“You don’t think she wants to learn or—?”
“It’s just that she’s kind of delicate.” Alex hurried toward the house, anxious for this conversation to end.
Nan caught up easily. “I like her. She’s lovely.”
“Yes. She is.”
Nan grabbed him by the arm to stop him. “We’re really happy for you, Alex.”
“But?”
“But nothing. We’re all very happy for you—for both of you.”
“Thanks, Mom. Promise you’ll leave it up to me?”
Summer Day Dreams Page 4