Engaged in Trouble (Enchanted Events Book 1)

by Jenny B. Jones

  “Hey, there.” Beau’s soft voice was a caress to my frayed nerves. “You gave us quite a scare, Paisley.” He leaned over the bed, his hand bracing near my pillow. “I know I’m supposed to say sympathetic things here, but . . . all I can think is if you ever go rogue like that again, I’ll put you on a plane and send you back to Los Angeles myself. You could’ve been killed.”

  I looked into those sea glass blue eyes so steady on mine. “You care.”

  His frown deepened. “Of course I care.”

  I nodded, the motion rattling everything in my head. “I feel more than a little vulnerable here in a hospital bed, braless and in a gown big enough to house the both of us, but . . . you’re right.”

  His dark brow arched and he lowered himself to a seated position on the bed. “I’m too focused on the fact that someone busted up your face to check out the boobs right now, but do go on about how I’m right.”

  My fingers traced the edge of the sheet pulled to my waist, as I edited my story before finally setting it free. “I can’t sing anymore.”

  “Sure you can,” he said. “So you fell off the horse. You pick yourself back up and—”

  “No, I mean I’m not physically able. Not the way I used to, anyway.” I paused to let the familiar, bitter pain put its stranglehold on my heart. “About a year ago I started having issues and went to the doctor. He found a cyst near the ligament of my vocal cord, which doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’s not that unusual for singers. He set me up for surgery.” The sheet was a wad in my fists. “There’s always a small chance of complications, and . . . it didn’t go well.”

  “Aw, Paisley—”

  “No, it’s okay.” Or maybe one day it would be. “I did a bunch of therapy, but I never recovered my singing voice. There’s nothing they can do. And I miss it, you know?” I lifted a hand to swipe a tear, only to find some weird contraption holding my finger hostage. “It sounds silly, but I miss the sound of my own voice when I sing in the car.”

  “It doesn’t sound silly at all.”

  I sniffed, then winced at the shock of pain.

  “Take it easy.” His fingers covered mine. “We can talk about this later.”

  “But you were right—I was scared. As if my music career wasn’t doomed enough, then to lose my voice? I had no idea how I’d work, how I’d support myself. I found this jerk of an agent, and I told him my conditions. I could basically only get jobs on my old image—people more interested in nostalgia than hearing my voice. But I knew that would only last so long. I thought taking this cruise ship gig would give me time to clear my head and come up with a new plan. A new life.”

  “I’m sorry,” Beau said. “I had no idea.”

  “I wanted that music career more than anything.”

  His thumb slid across my hand. “I know you did.”

  “I had no clue who I was without the music. But then the rug got pulled out from under me, and I was in the middle of a really good depression when I got word I’d just inherited my great-aunt’s business. Life’s just thrown me a lot of curveballs lately.” I took a tissue from the box he offered. “Tonight when I was trapped in the church with that crazy woman, my life flashed before my eyes like some big ol’ cliché. And very little of it was my music career. It was here. Sugar Creek.” And even you, Beau. “When the flames were getting closer, I started thinking about all I had left to do in this life, and all the things I still wanted to accomplish. And every bit of that can happen right here.”

  Beau’s lips slipped into a smile. “You’re staying?”

  “I’m still scared.” I attempted a laugh, but it hurt my chest. “But I’m through running. I have an opportunity to make something of myself here—something new, something better. And I’m taking it.”

  He watched me for a moment, and I wondered what was going through that complicated brain of his. “I’m glad you’re staying.”

  I yawned and blinked the eye that wasn’t swollen shut. “I guess you won’t have to find a new neighbor.”

  Standing, Beau pulled the sheet to my neck and pressed a light kiss to my cheek. “Good. You’re the neighbor I want.”

  Later, I would unpack that line and look at it over and over.

  “Goodnight, Paisley.” He brushed his hand over my hair. “Get some sleep.”

  “Goodnight.” I snuggled into my pillow and watched him walk to the door.

  Beau paused, his hand on the knob. He inspected the floor for five ticks of the clock above me before lifting his gaze to mine. “Over two years ago I lost my best friend in Libya.” He stepped back into the room, but didn’t come near the bed. “My Special Forces team had been away from the US compound all day. We’d been outside the grid and were finally on our way back from a pretty stressful job. There were about three trucks carrying me and my guys as we made it to the checkpoint. It had been an adrenaline high all day, and now that we were almost home, we were all powering down—joking on the radio, laughing, ready to get something to eat. The sniper fire caught us totally off guard.”

  Fatigue fuzzed the edges of my consciousness, but I had to hear this story. “I’m listening,” I said.

  “Injuries happen when you get too comfortable, you know?” Beau stared at a spot on the shiny floor. “The checkpoint was compromised, and shots hit the first truck. Took out two of my guys.” He stopped and breathed.

  “But you got out of your vehicle and fired back,” I said. “How many guys did you save?”

  “I’m not sure it matters.” Beau’s voice softened. “One of the people I couldn’t save was one I would’ve died for. He had a wife and a brand-new baby.”

  Words seemed trite and inadequate, so I said nothing.

  “His name was Wyatt Fox.”

  “Did you name your property after him?” Oh, my heart. “Wyatt would be so proud of you—and of Fox Falls.” I wanted to throw off all these tubes and hobble to Beau and hug him tight. “Thank you—for telling me.”

  Nodding, he rubbed the back of his neck and reached again for the door. “I just thought one hard story deserved another.” He opened the door, and the hall light poured in. “Get some rest, city girl. You’ve got a lot to do when you get out of here.”

  “Beau?” The painkillers had created such a delicious buzz.

  “Yes?”

  “You know one day you’re going to kiss me again, don’t you?”

  “We’ll see about that, Paisley.” He laughed as he stepped outside. “We’ll just see.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  “Good morning, Henry.”

  I slipped into our shared space of an office one week after the fire. The morning light streamed in through the old windows with golden encouragement, as I handed Henry a bag from Bugle Boy Bagels. It was my first day back, and my purple, bruised face and I moved at a sloth’s pace.

  “Paisley.” He jumped from his leather seat. “I was just reworking plans for Emma and Noah’s rescheduled wedding. Sit. Sit. Are you sure you should be back already?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He gave a pointed look at my nose. “So, surgery, huh?”

  “Broken nose.” I tapped the splint covering the center of my face. “Funny it took me leaving LA to get a nose job.” I collapsed into his chair, noticing his seat was superior to mine. That would have to be remedied. “Can I talk to you?”

  His smile faded. “This is it, isn’t it? You’re about to break up with us, aren’t you?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “But I can’t sell you Enchanted Events.”

  His lips pressed thin. “But you gave me your word.”

  “I know.” Seeing his reaction pierced like the stitches in my forehead. “But I have to do what’s best. For all of us.”

  “I got outbid.” He dropped his head and paced a few steps before circling back. “I know the property alone is worth twice what I offered, but I thought this place had come to mean something to you. I hoped we’d come to mean something to you. That you cared what happened to Enchan
ted Events and everyone working here. But yeah, I guess I get it. Money talks. And if you’re going back to Los Angeles, you’re certainly going to need some.” Henry leaned both hands on my desk, quiet with his brooding thoughts. “Let me be the one to break it to the staff.”

  “I agree,” I said. “They should hear it from you.”

  “Right. Good. Great.” He went back to pacing, fists clenched as if wishing for a good punch. “And what do I tell them about the new owner? Did you at least sell to someone who knows what they’re doing?”

  “I’m afraid the owner will probably need a lot of help.”

  “Paisley, for the love of—”

  “That’s why she’s bringing in a partner. She understands her limitations. Knows she has a lot to learn.”

  Henry stopped pacing, his fiery eyes intense on mine. “What are you saying?”

  I handed Henry a stack of papers I’d barely read. “This is the sales agreement. I’m offering you the chance to buy forty-nine percent of the company.”

  “Forty-nine?”

  “We’ll be equal partners as far as anyone else knows. I just wanted to take the lead, have the edge.” For the first time in my life. “But I know I can’t run Enchanted Events without you. I wouldn’t want to.”

  “You’re staying?”

  “I’m staying. For now.”

  He turned away then, sniffed once, and I saw his strong hand rub over his clean-shaven face.

  I reached out, my fingers giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “It’s not what you wanted, but I thought we’d worked so well together. I know I’m a disaster magnet, and I jacked a lot of things up. But we have so much potential here. Like you said, weddings are just the beginning, right?” A faint laugh escaped my busted lips. “In the end, I couldn’t walk away. This town, this business got to me. I realized I feel alive when we’re working on an event. It’s hard work with insane hours, but I like it. I might even kind of love it. And who’d have thought, huh? Me, jilted Paisley, planning weddings?” With Henry’s back turned, I spoke to his broad shoulders. “Can you just take some time to think about it? Don’t say no right now. Please?”

  Henry slowly pivoted, his gaze glazed. “Think about it?”

  I nodded meekly, about ready to cry myself.

  “Paisley.” He took a contemplative breath. “Do you know what my grandma Dottie did for a living?”

  “I don’t believe I do.”

  “She was a maid,” he said, his voice a raw whisper. “She worked as a maid who didn’t make enough to keep her five kids out of poverty, putting in ten-hour days for rich folks. She had a ninth grade education and cleaned until her hands were nothing but callouses. And when my momma had me at seventeen, Grandma Dottie took care of me, even after my mother ran off and never looked back. Grandma Dottie would come in late from work, cook my dinner, then sit at the old Formica table in the kitchen, making sure I finished every bit of my homework. If she thought my penmanship was sloppy, she’d make me copy it all again. ‘You’re going to be something important,’ she’d tell me. ‘You’ll go to college if I have to carry you there myself.’”

  “And look how that paid off,” I said.

  “I wanted to go right to work after high school and help my grandma out. I had no plans for college, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Even got on a bus and came on campus a few times to box my ears.”

  I smiled, uncertain where this was heading. “Is your grandma still alive?”

  “She has a small house in Little Rock. I’m going to call her tonight.”

  “And what are you going to tell her, Henry Cole?”

  “That I’m now co-owner of Enchanted Events.”

  Relief filled my bruised chest. “You are?”

  “I am.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.”

  “And I’ll tell Grandma Dottie that I made it. That everything she ever did for me paid off.” He glanced at the papers in his hands. “My plans were to run this myself, but you came along and messed everything up.”

  “I’m kind of good at that.”

  “But you messed it up in a good way. You’ve taught me to think outside the box. And you’re right—you’ve got a lot to learn still. But so do I, I guess. Though it makes no sense—we are a good team.”

  “It makes a little sense.”

  “This region’s on fire, and together, I know we can become the premiere event planning business in the four-state area.”

  “Maybe the whole South.”

  “Okay, the whole South.”

  “Maybe the whole nation.”

  “Don’t ruin my moment with your hyperbole.”

  I laughed, joy floating around me like confetti. “You won’t regret this, Henry.”

  “By this time next year, I want to be able to buy Grandma Dottie a new car.”

  “Then let’s see that she gets it.” I stuck out my hand. “Partners?”

  His fingers clasped mine. “Partners.”

  “I think we should start dressing alike. Really get simpatico.”

  “Don’t make me rip this contract up.”

  I couldn’t help it. I threw my arms around Henry and hugged him as tight as my injuries would allow.

  He patted my back, stiff, robotic whacks punctuated with a few sighs. “Okay, gushy time over. That’s it.” Pat. Pat. “Seriously, Paisley, let go.” He squirmed out of my embrace, brushing any evidence of contact off his tailored jacket. “And if you ever tell anyone I got a little choked up, Sasha Chandler won’t be the last murder victim here.”

  “Now there’s the surly Henry we know and tolerate.”

  “It means a lot that you’d make me partner.”

  “Enchanted Events is going to be great.”

  He smiled and surveyed our office, his eyes alive with the hopes of our future. “We’ll make sure of it.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Two Weeks Later

  “Emma’s wedding turned out beautiful.” Sylvie clinked her champagne glass to mine. “You and the team have really outdone yourselves, Paisley.”

  On Friday evening, we stood in the prettiest dale in Sugar Creek, located right on Fox Falls. As if the weather wanted to bless the union, the temperature was unseasonably mild, and the stars twinkled and danced above us. I’d gotten hundreds of pews from local churches and antique shops, and we’d set them in the newly shorn field. Emma and Noah had been able to expand their guest list, and most of the town had shown up to see their mayor and his sweetheart say their I Dos. Stringed lights crisscrossed overhead, strung from oak tree to oak tree, swinging in the breeze. I’d called in a few favors, and a band I’d worked with years ago had flown in from Nashville to sing their bluegrass-infused indie rock while Emma and Noah swayed to their first dance.

  “I think we just pulled off the event of the season,” Henry said as he joined us. “Beau’s barn cleaned up good.” We’d moved out all of the four-wheelers and other equipment to use the rustic building for the cakes and catering.

  “Frannie, your cakes tasted like heaven,” Sylvie said. Even though Measuring Cup Bakery had agreed to lift their ban on working with Enchanted Events, we weren’t sure we were ready to reconcile.

  “The groom’s cake is especially tasty,” Sylvie said. “I love the hint of pineapple. And something else I can’t put my finger on, but such a familiar flavor.”

  Frannie grinned. “Remember that secret aphrodisiac ingredient we learned in Nepal, Sylvie?” She waited for my grandmother’s nod. “I might’ve thrown a little of that in the batter.”

  “Lord help us all,” Henry muttered.

  Frannie laughed. “So if you see all the menfolk throwing themselves at me tonight, just stand back and let nature take its course.”

  Henry took two steps away from my aunt. “Did you hear the crazy story about Emma finding a duplicate of her original wedding dress hanging in her closet last week?”

  “How wonderful.” Sylvie caught my eye and smiled. “I wonder where it came from. Any ideas, Pais
ley?”

  I swayed to the band’s love song. “Just one of life’s little mysteries.”

  “You seem to be good at solving those.” She hugged me to her.

  “Woo, look at that handsome fellow.” Frannie pointed across the way.

  Standing beneath a tree dotted with lanterns, Beau chatted with Chief O’Hara and Emma’s father. A breeze lifted the mighty oak’s limbs, and Beau turned, his eyes scanning the crowd before lighting on me. His gaze held mine for a moment before he gave a slow, heart-melting wink.

  Missing nothing, Sylvie waved at Beau before linking her arm through mine. “Don’t give up on that one,” she whispered.

  I inhaled the fresh air, contentment infusing my spirit. I’d like to think I was through giving up on anything. No more running, no more quitting. I had staked my claim in this town, and I was here to stay. And if the love of a man had eluded me, the love of a town certainly hadn’t.

  Sugar Creek had captured my heart.

  It was the home I’d run from, yet it had welcomed me back and offered me sanctuary and solace, a chance to rethink how I’d catalog the rest of my days. It gave me a place to unpack my bags, and people to call my own. People who didn’t care if I could fit into a size two or hit that high E.

  It was true—sometimes you had to leave to come home again. Lose it all to appreciate the bounty being offered.

  To witness kindness, I only had to stop in at the auto parts store where Randall Crawford would give me a cup of coffee, sell me a battery, then install it for the price of a thank-you and a conversation. To hear beauty, one only had to listen to the midnight train, calling into the star-dotted sky all the way over from the next town. I loved the unexpected joy of picking up dinner from the high school FFA, who sold BBQ chicken from a grill in the ditch in front of the grocery store, using a seventy-year-old recipe that was still top-secret to this day. I could buy farm fresh eggs from the feed store downtown, who did business beneath a faded checkerboard sign, then walk through the library with the tin ceiling. My mother had taken me to read there from the time I could toddle around the books.