Best Laid Wedding Plans

by Lynnette Austin

  “It’s a nice day,” he said. “She’s been workin’ hard. Thought maybe we’d take a bike ride, see what trouble we could get into.”

  Sue Ellen laughed. “Trouble’s not something you kids ever had a problem finding.”

  Whoo, boy. If she had even a clue about the kind of trouble he wanted to get into with her daughter, she and Todd would probably kick him out on his butt.

  “You drivin’ the same bike?” Todd asked.

  “Yes, sir. I keep it at my parents’ place. I don’t like to drive the Harley in city traffic.”

  “Don’t blame you.”

  When they stood, Todd wrapped an arm around Cole’s shoulder. “Let’s go take a look. Been a couple years since I’ve seen it.”

  Wes had one, too, one his parents sold after he’d died. What a shame. It had been Wes’s pride and joy. He’d loved that Harley.

  But what sense would it make for them to keep it? Cole couldn’t, in his wildest imagination, picture Todd and Sue Ellen Beaumont heading down the highway on a motorcycle.

  Jenni Beth opened the screen door to see her dad and Cole, heads together, examining something on the big, black Harley. Men and their toys.

  Hearing the door slap shut, Cole looked up. “Hey, beautiful. You ready?”

  She caught the flicker of surprise on her father’s face at Cole’s greeting.

  “I am.”

  “Let’s go then.” He handed her a helmet.

  “You always carry an extra?”

  He threw her a sheepish grin. “You never know when you’ll pick up a hitchhiker.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “Did you get breakfast?” her father asked.

  “Coffee’s good for now. Maybe I can talk Cole into buying me lunch.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  With a wave at her father, she hopped on the back of the bike, wrapping her arms around Cole’s solid form, her palms splayed on his chest. “Bye, Dad.”

  “Bye, honey. Have fun.”

  Oh, she would. A Saturday motorcycle ride with Cole Bryson. One of her teenage fantasies. She had to remember, though, to keep those fantasies damped down with a good dose of reality.

  When they stopped at the end of her lane, he turned his head. “Thought we’d pick up your car a little later.”

  “That’s fine. Did someone really cut my tire on purpose?”

  “Yes. I didn’t tell your folks that, though.”

  “Smart idea.”

  “Let’s forget about that now, though, and just enjoy the day,” Cole said.

  “I’ll second that.”

  They turned onto the main road, and she grinned so big she was surprised her face didn’t hurt from it. Wes had taken her for a ride once in a while, but until she and Cole went to Dinky’s the other day, she’d forgotten the sheer pleasure of motorcycles. The wind in her hair, the sun on her face. The freedom. Pure exhilaration.

  She didn’t have the foggiest idea where they were going, and she didn’t care.

  He bypassed town and took a little side road to the north.

  Ten or twelve miles later, they passed a tumble-down house. Cole slowed and pulled into the next drive.

  “I want to check something out.” He backed up the big bike and headed in the direction they’d just come from. Idling along, he turned in to what was left of a nearly indiscernible dirt drive, overgrown with grass and weeds.

  “Who owns this place?” he asked. “I should know, but I can’t remember.”

  “Ms. Starshine Liberty.”

  He slapped one hand on his helmet. “How could I forget? Does anybody know her real name?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. Apparently she’s gone by Starshine since she showed up in town in the sixties. Part of that whole hippie generation.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Somebody at the nursing home probably knows. I’d think she’d have used her birth name for Social Security and whatnot.”

  “She’s still alive?”

  “Yes, but she’s well into her eighties.”

  He dropped the kickstand, hopped off, and helped her dismount. Wading through the tall grass, he climbed the rickety stairs and stepped lightly onto the sagging porch.

  “Any relatives?”

  “Why?”

  “I want to buy these windows. They’re original. See how wavy the glass is? Modern glass is called float glass because it’s floated on molten metal. That’s why it’s a uniform thickness without any distortion to it. These beauties? Not so.”

  He used an old rag he found to wipe the first three layers of dirt off one of the filthy windows. Cupping a hand over his eyes to shade them, he peered inside.

  “Nice molding.”

  “That’s what all the guys say,” Jenni Beth quipped dryly.

  He laughed. “I want this place.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Look at the imperfections in this glass. When the house was built, window glass was mouth blown into cylinders, then flattened by hand into sheets. See here?” He pointed to the bottom. “See how the glass is slightly thicker? That’s for stability and to keep water from leaking in. I have to have these windows. This house.”

  Watching him, she smiled slowly. “You love it, don’t you?”

  “The glass?”

  “The whole thing. Restoration, old houses, salvaging.”

  “Yeah, I do. It’s more than how I make a living. It’s my passion.” He threw her a sheepish grin. “And that sounds pretty silly, doesn’t it?”

  “No, it doesn’t. It’s pretty much how I feel about Magnolia House. My plans for it.” She tapped her bottom lip and said nothing else for a minute. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her phone.

  Cole listened while she talked to her father.

  When she ended the call, she said, “Dad says Starshine has a nephew. James Fielding. He’s probably in his late sixties, early seventies, so I seriously doubt he’s planning to do anything with this place.”

  Cole nodded. “I want the house. He can keep the land.”

  “Dad thinks he’s moved to Blairsville, but he’ll check with Charlotte, see if he can get Fielding’s number.”

  “All right!” Cole grabbed her by the waist and pulled her in for a kiss.

  Staggered, she gave in to it.

  “Wow,” she said when he lifted his head. “I’ll try to do a few more favors for you.”

  “You do that.” He ran a fingertip down the length of her nose. “Ready to go?”

  “You bet.”

  “Put your helmet back on, and let’s go visit Ms. Hattie. Check the progress there.” He reached back and patted his saddlebag. “Your mom sent some of Charlotte’s cinnamon rolls for her.”

  Jenni Beth’s heart gave a small, happy lurch. That distance she’d been holding on to for the last year or so seemed to be melting away. Despite what she’d told Cole, she was finding it harder and harder to stay detached.

  That her mom would think to send these to Ms. Hattie? A good sign. Taking care of Wes’s room had been difficult, but maybe now her mom could move forward. And her dad? He’d been totally engrossed with Cole this morning and enjoying it. Had been working on some of the small projects around the house.

  Hope filled her. Hope that maybe she’d have her parents back soon.

  When they pulled up to her house, Ms. Hattie was sitting on the front porch in a rickety old chair. Dressed in a worn blue housedress, an apron tied around her waist, she waved a frail hand at them.

  “Hey, Ms. Hattie.” Cole removed his helmet. “You look even prettier than the last time we were here.”

  “Psst, boy. You’re crazy as a loon.” Using the chair arm for leverage, she stood. “But my steps and porch sure do look a sight better.”

  Jenni Beth slid off the bike, helmet dangling
from her fingers, and felt a surge of pride. “Beck and his guys did a nice job, didn’t they?”

  “Sure did. That Beck Elliot’s grown up to be a good man. Handsome, too. Don’t know why some young thing hasn’t snapped him right up.”

  Cole bounded up the stairs and kissed her weathered cheek.

  “You too.” Ms. Hattie patted his cheek. “You’re a fine boy. Your mama and daddy have to be real proud of you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” He turned to Jenni Beth. “Would you unsnap those bags and get that packet?”

  “Sure.” When she carried the foil-wrapped package to the porch, she handed it to the older woman. “From my mama.”

  “A couple of Ms. Charlotte’s homemade cinnamon rolls, made fresh this morning,” Cole said. “I had one and can swear on a Bible they’re the best I’ve ever eaten.”

  “You want another?” Hattie held out the packet.

  “No thanks. Watching my waistline.” He grinned wickedly. “Ms. Beaumont says to warm the rolls five minutes on low, and they’ll be as fresh as they were right out of the oven.”

  “How about a glass of sweet tea?”

  Jenni Beth’s gaze met Cole’s, and he winked. Yes, for Ms. Hattie, he’d drink it sweet and not complain.

  Even though she knew Cole wanted to be on his way, he nodded. “Sure thing. Why don’t you let me help you? We’ll take it out back if that’s okay.”

  He held the door as Hattie entered the house. “Did Beck say how long it would be before he puts in your new windows?”

  “He’s waitin’ for them to be delivered. Said he’d let me know.” While she talked, she picked up one of the African violets from her windowsill and placed it in a plastic bag.

  “I want you to take this.” She thrust the plant at Jenni Beth. “Set it in a sunny window, and when it’s thirsty give it room-temperature water. It’ll bloom well for you.”

  “Thank you.” She held it almost reverently, prayed she wouldn’t kill it.

  Then the older woman shuffled into the kitchen. “Baked some cookies yesterday, Cole, in case you dropped by. Why don’t I put a few in a container for you?”

  “I’d love that. Thank you.”

  Jennie Beth and Cole looked at each other. She was baking again. Another good sign.

  After nearly half an hour, Ms. Hattie’s chin drooped and Jenni Beth could see she was tired. She glanced at Cole and nodded toward the woman.

  He nodded back. “Sure do hate to leave, Ms. Hattie, but we need to be gettin’ back to town.”

  Reaching for her glass, he said, “Why don’t you let me take this in for you? You look comfortable. Stay right here in the sun, maybe take yourself a little catnap.”

  “I might just do that.”

  A few minutes later, the glasses rinsed, Ms. Hattie asleep, Jenni Beth tucked the plant carefully into the saddlebag before she hopped on the back of the bike. She hooked her helmet.

  “Ready?” Cole asked.

  She wrapped her arms around him. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “You’re so good with her.”

  “I like her. I like you, too, and you sure feel good snuggled up against me like that, sugar.”

  Not yet ready to admit she agreed, she asked, “Where are we going?”

  “Thought we’d take a little ride, then stop at a favorite barbecue spot of mine.”

  “Sounds great.”

  They rode leisurely, taking narrow two-lane back roads and detours. Jenni Beth had never seen the area like this. Even in her ’Vette with the top down, things weren’t quite so up close and personal as they were on the back of the motorcycle.

  She’d had no idea she’d love it this much.

  True to his word, Cole idled up to a little tucked-away barbecue joint. Judging by the number of vehicles in the parking lot, she figured that, while it was out of the way, she had to be the only person within a hundred-mile radius not familiar with the place.

  She excused herself to go the restroom. When she came out, she found Kimmie Atherton draped over Cole. She froze, and for a few seconds, actually considered running back to the bathroom and hiding.

  Nope. Time to meet her nemesis head-on. She’d lost round one in high school, so Kimmie was the one with photos of herself beside Cole at the prom. Kimmie’d also been the one who’d undoubtedly gone to the rock quarry afterward for a make-out session with Cole.

  How far had they gone?

  It hurt to even think about that. Judging the book by its cover, Jenni Beth didn’t figure it was a question worth pondering. Kimmie had never been selfish with that body of hers.

  According to Beck, Kimmie, newly divorced, was on the hunt for husband number three.

  Cole?

  Halfway across the room, Jenni Beth’s self-confidence lagged and she stopped short. If Cole actually was interested in Kimmie, did she have the right to interfere? She and Cole had shared a few kisses, done some flirting, but nothing deeper—except for that one time. That one time that had meant so much—to her. But no claims had been made on either side. Not then, not now.

  Thanking God she’d come to her senses before she made a complete idiot of herself, she pulled her Miss Congeniality smile out of her hip pocket and slapped it in place.

  “Hey, Kimmie. I’d heard you were back in town.”

  “Yeah, heard you were here, too.” Kimmie obviously didn’t possess Jenni Beth’s acting ability because she made no attempt at a smile. “What are you doin’ here?”

  “She’s with me,” Cole said. He looked about as uncomfortable as a single guy in an obstetrician’s office. His gaze flicked from one to the other.

  “Want to join us?” Jenni Beth gestured to a chair at the table and rejoiced as a look of pure panic sprung into Cole’s eyes.

  “Nah. That’s okay. I stopped by to pick up a to-go order for my folks.” She cracked her gum. “See you later, big boy.” Tossing a devil-may-care look toward Jenni Beth, she leaned in and planted a big kiss on Cole.

  Jenni Beth had to give him credit. He actually pulled away.

  “Tell your folks hello for me, Kimmie,” he said.

  With his foot, he pushed out the chair by Jenni Beth. “Sit, so we can get ordered, sugar. We’ve still got lots to do today.”

  “Bye, Kimmie.” She sat down.

  “Yeah.” A pout on her bright red lips, the other woman stalked toward the counter for her food.

  Jenni Beth mentally chalked one point under her column. True, this didn’t count for nearly as much as the prom, but she felt proud of herself. Was one step closer to even.

  A while later, totally replete, she wiped her fingers on her third napkin. “I have to give it to you, Cole. That was undoubtedly the best pulled pork I’ve ever eaten, and believe me, I’ve eaten plenty.”

  “Next time, you need to try the ribs. Fantastic.” He cleaned his hands on the wet wipes their waitress brought and dug some bills out of his pocket for the check. “You ready to go?”

  “I am. What’s next on the agenda?”

  “Thought we’d ride aimlessly for a bit. See where the road takes us. You game?”

  “Yes, I’m growing fond of…that bike of yours.”

  And then, right in front of God and country, he leaned down and kissed her. Not the branding kind of kiss Kimmie had planted on him, but a tender kiss. One that meant so much more. One that had her toes curling.

  When he finished, he had a smile on his face. “I’m enjoying today. Enjoying spending time with you.”

  “The feeling’s mutual.”

  As they walked out, she wondered if there were a few raised brows in the room. One guy, two gals kissing him? No, she thought. She hadn’t kissed Cole. He’d kissed her, and that made all the difference in the world.

  On her way to the bike, her feet never touched the groun
d.

  Again, he chose winding back roads she’d never been on. They climbed to the top of a lighthouse and stared out over the river of marsh grass, smelled the pungent pluff mud left behind when the tide receded.

  They ate ice cream from a small roadside stand and sang along to Maroon Five’s “Moves Like Jagger” that played over the speaker. Licking his cone, Cole stood and did a very Jagger-like dance, with those heavy-lidded bedroom eyes.

  Jenni Beth blew out a huge breath. “Whew, be still my heart.”

  He tugged her up beside him, started moving again.

  “You’ll get us arrested.”

  “I seriously doubt that.”

  Several pairs of female eyes turned their way, and she shook her head. “Behave.”

  “I am.” Looking wounded, he plopped the last bite of cone in his mouth. “Wanna go somewhere private?”

  Oh, she did.

  Slowly, she nodded.

  He leaned in. Their lips met in a kiss that held promises. That made him want more.

  “If your parents hadn’t been home this mornin’—”

  “I can’t believe Mom actually sent you up to my room.”

  “She likes me.”

  “So do I. Kiss me again.”

  He did. When she opened her mouth, his tongue slipped inside, danced with hers. The heat grew, and he groaned. “I want you so badly.”

  She stepped an inch closer. “I believe you.”

  A laugh escaped him. “I’ll just bet you do. Hop on the bike, sugar, and let’s get out of here.”

  She reached for her helmet and slid on behind him. He started the bike, then just sat there.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Shaking his head, Cole turned halfway in his seat. “I don’t know where to go.”

  “What?”

  He killed the bike. “Here’s the thing. I’m not takin’ you to a motel. I think too much of you for that, Jenni Beth. You’re not a by-the-hour-room type.”

  She colored. “No. I’m not.”

  “My parents are doin’ lawn work today,” he said. “If we go to my place—”

  “They’ll know what’s up,” she finished.

  “Yeah.”

  “And my house…” She smiled regretfully, then held up a hand and ticked off finger after finger. “Mom, Dad, Charlotte, Beck. His crew.”