The Accidental Bride

by Christina Skye

  Jilly rolled her shoulders, feeling a twinge of guilt. “Eventually. I have to work my way into it. Frankly, the whole idea intimidates me. I’m going to be surrounded by world-class talent out there.”

  “Everyone was a beginner once.” Mamie patted her hand. “Finish your hot chocolate. Then I’ll take you down to meet the women in charge. Believe me, they won’t bite.”

  * * *

  JILLY DIDN’T MAKE IT to the classroom building.

  She hadn’t even reached the front steps when someone called her name. Jilly recognized her two friends from the night before, loaded down with bags full of yarn and needles.

  “It’s still too early for class. Let’s sit here for a while.” Anna, the mother whose bag Jilly had found, smiled and gestured to the empty armchair that overlooked the whole valley. “A little bird told me that you want to refresh your course in basic stitches, Jilly. We brought yarn, needles and all the help you want. Fire away.”

  It was impossible to say no in the face of so much enthusiasm and genuine goodwill, and Jilly soon found herself clutching a pair of bamboo needles and frowning her way through two rows of simple garter stitches. “It doesn’t feel right,” she muttered.

  “It’s right. You’re doing great. Now knit another row.”

  To call her work great was a stretch, but it wasn’t as awful as Jilly expected. At least she hadn’t dropped any stitches. And as she knitted another row and then another, her fingers seemed to relax and find a rhythm. She was even able to join in the conversation without losing track of what she was doing.

  At nearby tables other knitters sat chatting, working on socks or hats or intricate lace shawls. To her surprise, Jilly noticed she wasn’t the only beginner present.

  “Okay, I think I kind of understand the garter stitch. Now what was that other thing? The one you do with knits and purls? It starts with an r.”

  “Ribbing.” Andie studied Jilly’s work. “This time you knit two stitches and then slide the yarn in front and purl two stitches. It’s easy. Watch and I’ll show you.”

  Jilly wasn’t so sure. She was pretty sure that Olivia and Caro had spent an unpleasant afternoon trying to teach her how to alternate knits and purls in a pattern, but she had never gotten it.

  The old sense of incompetence hit.

  “Try it this way instead.” Anna leaned over Jilly’s shoulders and readjusted the position of her hands. Now her left forefinger controlled the yarn in a new way that felt much better. “That’s it. Yarn in front. Great work, Jilly. You’ve got it.”

  Her friend was right. She was actually doing ribs!

  It wasn’t nearly as bad as she remembered. She couldn’t wait to tell Caro and Olivia.

  Anna’s daughter glanced at her watch. “Class starts in twenty minutes. Aren’t you going, Jilly?”

  Jilly hesitated. Making a fool of herself in front of a room of forty women was not high on her list of favorite things. “I have an errand to do for Red. But I’ll check out the courses, I promise. And this afternoon I’ll do…something.”

  “You’ll like it, Jilly. I promise you.”

  As she watched her two friends wander off, talking with a group of knitters, Jilly pondered the strange, unrecognizable sense of contentment that was oozing through her. There was something to this camaraderie, with its laughter and joy in shared creativity. Jilly had never given herself time to create anything other than food. All her energy and drive had been focused on her cooking. Any time left after work had been earmarked for her beloved dog, her circle of friends and their ongoing renovation project at the Summer Island harbor. For as long as she could remember, those things had been enough.

  But now, surrounded by excited women caught up in deep discussions of cast-ons, cables and short rows, Jilly finally understood the deep pleasure that her friends felt when they picked up their needles to knit together.

  She gave a little jump as her cell phone rang.

  It was a local number, but not one she recognized. “Hello?”

  “Jilly? This is Jonathan. I—actually I’ve got a huge problem here at the coffee shop. I spoke to my grandmother and she said you could borrow one of the resort cars. I hate to ask but…do you think you could drive down here? I really need help.”

  “Right now?”

  “Trust me—now would be a very good idea.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  JILLY’S MIND RACED AS she pulled onto the main street of Lost Creek. She was relieved to see that there was no smoke, no cluster of emergency vehicles and no other signs of a disaster in progress. What had Jonathan been talking about?

  Then she saw the cars crawling past the coffee shop. A line of people stretched all the way down to the small post office. Probably sixty people were waiting to get inside the shop, Jilly realized. She had a glimpse of Jonathan and one assistant, looking harassed behind the long counter.

  What was going on? Had he offered some kind of discount to local residents?

  After ten minutes Jilly managed to find a parking spot.

  Jonathan saw her inch through the crowded doorway and waved her over. “Am I glad to see you! It’s been crazy like this all morning.”

  “Why?”

  “Sara spoke to her friends, and they spoke to their friends. Someone told the mayor. Apparently, the word’s out about your barista skills. I have your notes and they’ve helped a lot, but frankly, I can’t keep up with this crush. I know you’re supposed to be on vacation, but…would you mind awfully helping me for an hour or two? That’s all I ask. Just until I get things under control.”

  “Sure I’ll help.” Jilly found an apron and flipped it expertly around her waist. As she smoothed the cloth, she assessed the best order to tackle the problem. It was the way she always worked in her kitchen. In life, she charged headlong at problems. In cooking, she was calm, ordering her priorities with the calculated logic of a seasoned soldier.

  And more often than not a kitchen resembled a war zone, she thought.

  While Jonathan took orders Jilly cleaned an overturned canister of coffee, tossed out an empty carton of half-and-half and brought more milk from the refrigerator. She washed the metal pitchers that were soaking in the sink. Finally, with all her weapons ready, she waved to Jonathan.

  “Okay, I’ll tackle the next thirty or so orders. Just keep feeding them to me. Your assistant should go in the back and get more coffee cups, too. When I parked, there were probably sixty people waiting out there and the line snaked down to the post office.”

  “No kidding.” Jonathan stabbed a hand through his hair, grinning. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It didn’t even take a two-for-one sale.”

  Jilly went to work, juggling espressos, lattes and doppios with cool skill while Jonathan passed her the materials she needed. They made a good team, and within twenty minutes the line outside had begun to thin.

  But it hadn’t stopped.

  “How are you set for coffee beans?” she whispered. “This could go on for a while, Jonathan.”

  “I’m in good shape. Thankfully, I had just placed a big order.” He waved to Lost Creek’s mayor, who was standing with her husband and daughter, chatting with a man in a police uniform. Behind them were two firefighters.

  The ease and friendship reminded Jilly of Summer Island. Everyone seemed to know everyone and there was no sign of irritation about the delay. People were taking advantage of the time to catch up on town news and family gossip.

  Nice, she thought. Just the way it should be.

  She passed an iced mocha to Jonathan and cranked out two more orders. She could have used a nice espresso herself. The rich smell of fresh coffee was killing her.

  “I’ll have a mocha cappuccino, please. Make that your biggest size.” The smoky, familiar voice made Jilly’s head shoot up. Walker was wearing a sweater today. Its rich brown tweed wool was knitted in intricate cables and textured stitches. Jilly was no expert, but the sweater looked handmade—with a lot of love. It also looked as if it ha
d been well worn. She noticed a small tear under his right elbow and two small holes near the neckline.

  Walker seemed to feel the force of her gaze. His eyes darkened, moving over her face. “You slept okay?”

  Jilly nodded, feeling a little embarrassed that she had had the nerve to ask him to stay.

  “Glad to hear it. We tried to be quiet when we left.” A muscle moved at his jaw. “You’ve got cinnamon on your cheek.”

  “The way things have been moving in here, I’m surprised I don’t have whip cream in my hair. This is crazy.”

  Walker glanced around at the crowded room. “Busier than I’ve ever seen it. What kind of promises did Jonathan make to get you back here? You’re supposed to be on vacation, remember?”

  Jilly looked down, already intent on finishing Walker’s order. “I love doing this. I was glad to help out when he called, but I still don’t understand what’s drumming up all the business.”

  “My guess is your coffee.” Walker nodded at the mayor as she walked past, savoring her latte. The chief of police patted Walker on the shoulder before he followed the mayor out. “Jonathan’s coffee is okay, but yours is something to write home about. Some of these people have never had coffee like this.” His voice fell. “Me included.”

  Jilly tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and shrugged. “It’s just coffee. I’m happy for Jonathan, but this is a little hard to believe.” She poured in milk froth and then put a lid on Walker’s coffee. As she pushed it toward him, she tried not to notice the way the sunlight glinted on his hair and how his broad shoulders moved beneath the lines of his sweater.

  It was a losing battle. He seemed to fill the room with his presence, quiet and thoughtful. His strength was part of his character, but you had to look to see it. He was exactly the kind of man Jilly had never looked at twice before. Not that he was hard to look at. Just the opposite. But Jilly’s prior involvements had been with quick-tempered, flamboyant and charming chefs with no interest in anything long-term.

  Walker was none of those things. She was trying to figure out whether that was good or bad when Jonathan pushed a metal pitcher filled with steaming milk toward her. Suddenly Walker leaned forward.

  His hand closed over her shoulder. “Hold still. Keep everything just where it is, Jilly.”

  Her eyes locked with his. She did what he said without thinking. She didn’t reach for sugar or flavoring or the pitcher of hot milk.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Something nudged her foot. Jilly looked down in surprise and saw a pair of wide blue eyes staring up at her. A toddler with bright red hair and a stuffed dinosaur shoved under one arm was inside the back work area, fascinated by the noise and the movement, oblivious to the dangers of boiling coffee and steaming milk.

  Jilly cleared her throat. “Jonathan, we’ve got company. Maybe you should—”

  Before Jonathan could move, Walker had stepped behind the counter. With the calm, easy movements that Jilly was coming to recognize, he scooped up the little boy, then picked up the stuffed dinosaur when it dropped next to Jilly. “Sorry, pal. This isn’t a good place for dinosaurs. They don’t like coffee very much.”

  The boy frowned. “No coffee?”

  “I’m afraid not, Teddy. Your friend there is strictly a grass eater. Nuts, vegetables. Healthy stuff. You like those things, don’t you?” Walker ruffled the boy’s hair. “I bet you eat a lot of vegetables.”

  “Sometimes. I like candy better.”

  “Don’t we all,” Walker muttered.

  The boy studied Walker’s face. “Where’s doggy? Winnow.”

  “Outside in the car. It was too crowded to bring him in today. You want to go see Winslow, buddy?”

  Teddy nodded vigorously. “Wanna go out there now.”

  “First we have to find your mother, Teddy. She’ll be worrying. Plus it’s not safe to be on this side of the counter. That dinosaur of yours might eat something that makes him sick. You might even get burned back here. You wouldn’t want that.”

  The little boy shook his head. “Want my mom. Where is she?”

  “Let’s go find out.” Walker carried the boy carefully around the counter, then turned and latched the door, which had swung open from the crush of people standing in line. He shot a glance at Jonathan and then pointed to the latch. “Might want to have a look at that.”

  “You bet I will,” Jonathan called out. “Has anybody seen Maryanne? We have Teddy over here.”

  A harried-looking woman with the same bright blue eyes as her son elbowed through the line of waiting customers. She sighed with relief when she saw her son safe in Walker’s arms. “I was looking for him everywhere. I don’t know how he got over here so fast. I’m sorry, Jonathan. I won’t bring him with me again. Thanks for watching out for him, Walker.”

  “No hurry. We’re just having a little chat about dinosaurs eating their vegetables, right, Teddy?”

  The boy kept a careful eye on his mother. “Wanna go see Winnow. Out in the car.”

  His mother shook her head. “We’re going straight home, Teddy. That was very bad. You could have been hurt or lost your dinosaur in this crowd. You know the rule. You have to hold Mommy’s hand.” The emotion in her voice made the toddler’s mouth quiver. The next thing Jilly knew, tears streamed down his face. His chubby fingers tightened on Walker’s sweater.

  “Don’t wanna lose Dino. Don’t wanna be lost.”

  “Then you have to remember. Hold Mommy’s hand. Always.” Now tears glistered in Maryanne’s eyes. She glanced up at Walker and shook her head. “I’ll take him now. There’s no need for him to be crying all over your nice sweater.”

  “He’s welcome to come see Winslow in the truck. I’m sure Teddy’s going to pay close attention to what you’ve told him. And he’s going to hold your hand in the future, aren’t you, Teddy?”

  The boy nodded dutifully.

  “And you’re going to eat all your vegetables, too, right?”

  This time the boy wasn’t so sure. After considerable thought, he finally nodded. “Wanna see Winnow,” he insisted.

  Walker chuckled. “Whenever you want. But first, what’s that thing in your ear?”

  The boy burst into laughter as Walker pulled a quarter out of the air next to Teddy’s face. “Would you look at that? I guess you never know what you’re going to find in an ear.”

  “A quarter!”

  “We better go home, Teddy. We’ll go see Winslow another day.” Maryanne lifted her arms and Walker carefully handed the boy over to her. Teddy waved his dinosaur and his bright new quarter wildly at Walker as his mother carried him outside.

  Jilly didn’t move, struck by the certainty that Walker would be an amazing father. He would lavish all that calm strength on a family and never let them down. No children would ever be more loved.

  Walker’s easy smile and watchful glance on the child told her that he wanted a family.

  The thought was a dash of icy water. Jilly couldn’t face the emotions that churned up and flooded over her. Blindly she yanked off her apron and grabbed her purse. “It looks like the emergency is over, Jonathan. I’d better go. Glad I could help.”

  “Wait. At least let me pay you, Jilly. I couldn’t have managed without you today.”

  “No need.” She swept up her sweater, careful to avoid Walker’s eyes. “See you around.” And she rushed through the crowd past Walker without looking back.

  * * *

  JONATHAN SCRATCHED HIS head, staring after Jilly. “Did I miss something?”

  “If you missed it, so did I.”

  Walker stared after Jilly’s stiff shoulders. Something had upset her, and he didn’t think it was the crowd. She was a real expert behind the counter, and she liked people. She had kept up an easy flow of conversation all the time she worked, and nothing had flustered her. No, something else had left her white, looking as if a horse had kicked her in the chest.

  Walker had a hunch it had something to do with the boy. When Jilly had l
ooked at Teddy, wriggling in Walker’s arms, she had rubbed her chest as if it hurt. Then her eyes had filled with longing—followed by raw dismay. Walker had wanted to reach out and smooth away that longing. He had wanted to touch her hair and kiss her until she sank into his arms with a husky sigh.

  It had taken all his willpower not to do any of those things.

  Then without warning she had bolted. He had to find out why.

  Walker swept up his battered cowboy hat and laid a five-dollar bill on the counter. Jonathan was so distracted that he didn’t argue for once.

  “See if you can find out what’s wrong,” Jonathan called after him. “Apologize for me if it was my fault.”

  “I don’t think it was anything you did, Jonathan.”

  “You don’t?” Jonathan shook his head. “Then what happened?”

  “I don’t know.” Walker stared out after Jilly. “But I’m going to find out.”

  * * *

  THE MAYOR OF LOST CREEK blew on her steaming cup of coffee, studying the crowded street. “Something’s going on there, mark my words.”

  “Aw, Shirley, you say that about every new woman in town.” The chief of police took a last bite of his pecan pie and eyed the mayor’s untouched dessert. To his credit he didn’t ask for part of it. “You said it about that visiting nurse from Canada last month. A few weeks before that, you were convinced he and that blonde vet from L.A. were going to get hooked up. Didn’t happen. I doubt Walker’s the marrying kind.”

  “Nonsense. Anyone with eyes can see that he’s ready to settle down. He’s just waiting for the right woman.”

  The chief of police pushed back, balanced on the back two legs of his chair. He moved a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. “And you think that she’s the one? Too flighty. Jumpy like a young colt. Heck, Shirley, she’ll be gone at the end of the week. She’s just visiting up at the resort.”