Best Laid Wedding Plans

by Lynnette Austin

  “This has been the longest week of my life, sugar. I’ve been missin’ you night and day.”

  She stared up into the live oak and said nothing. Fisted her hands in her lap so she didn’t reach up and grab him.

  “We need to talk.” He squeezed onto the swing beside her. As it groaned, she glanced up, praying the rope would hold their weight.

  He overwhelmed her. His heat, his scent, the pull of him. She laid a hand on her belly. Butterflies filled it, fluttered there.

  His gaze followed her hand. His eyes darkened, and she nearly forgot to breathe as a need grew in her. She could practically hear that padlock bursting open.

  “This swing isn’t big enough for two.” She wiggled, trying to find space between them.

  “Sure it is.” He threw his arm over the back, his hand resting on her shoulder. “Truth? I care for you, Jenni Beth. A whole lot. Asking Ava out? A move I made before this thing got started between you and me.”

  Ava. The name matched the voice.

  When she didn’t respond, he asked, “Are you listenin’?”

  She merely nodded.

  “Mea culpa.” He clasped his hands in his lap and studied them for a good thirty seconds. “It never crossed my mind to mention my dinner with her because it simply wasn’t that big a deal.”

  He took her hand in his. “You need to help me here. I’m miserable. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t stop thinkin’ about you.”

  “Is part of the problem the fact that I’m Wes’s baby sister?”

  He hesitated, then said, “Yes. It’s hard to get past that.”

  “You didn’t seem to have any trouble a couple years ago in Savannah.”

  “Yeah, actually I did. You’ve got that figured all wrong. I didn’t run away from you that night. I was runnin’ from myself. My feelings scared me.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.”

  She closed the magazine she’d been scanning and stared at its cover, rather than meet his eyes. “When did you and Ava go out?”

  “Weeks ago. It was a couple nights after the wedding at Chateau Rouge.”

  “After you danced with me? Kissed me?”

  “She and I had dinner. Saw a damned movie. It meant nothin’.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Then why did you do it?”

  “Because I’d already asked her out before I ran into you. I considered cancelin’, but—” He shrugged. “It didn’t seem right.”

  “Kind of like the prom.”

  He winced. “The prom. Still a sore spot with you, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. “Okay, so it seems I overreacted. But I’ve been thinking.”

  He groaned. “There you go again with the thinkin’.”

  “It’s who I am.” She bit her lower lip. “You’re right about Ava. When you took her out, we weren’t a thing, as you put it. You had no reason not to take her to dinner.”

  Relief flooded his face but disappeared as she shook her head.

  “Our biggest problem? We’re still not a thing. I’ve never been enough for you, Cole. Not in high school, not—” She stumbled over the words. “Not later. Not now.”

  “You couldn’t be more wrong,” he countered. “I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.” He toyed with her earring. “The way I see it, the problem is that I’m not ready to settle down, and you’re not one to trifle with.”

  “Trifle?” Her forehead creased. “Do you even hear yourself?”

  He frowned. “You know what I mean.”

  “What do you think I am, Cole? Delicate porcelain? I’m strong, and I’m my own person. I make my own decisions.”

  She stood, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for my family.”

  Her back felt like it would snap. She held the magazine so tightly it was surprising it didn’t spontaneously combust. If she let her guard down for even a second, she’d break apart into shards so tiny she’d never be able to put them back together.

  “But?”

  She wet her lips, firmed her resolve. “But I think it might be best if you didn’t come by anymore.”

  “What?”

  “I said—”

  “I heard what you said. My ears work fine. Is this still about Ava? ’Cause if so—”

  She shook her head, fighting back tears. “No. It’s about me.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Far from it. It’s probably the sanest thing I’ve done lately.”

  “You’re not makin’ any sense.”

  “Probably not. But you need to go. Now.”

  For the tiniest instant, she thought he would, and she fought the urge to ignore her common sense, to beg him to stay. She wanted this man so badly, but she’d made the right decision. Now she had to stand by it.

  “Like hell!”

  Even as the gasp escaped her lips, he sprang to his feet, drew her in, and kissed her. Soul-deep and desperate, the kiss lengthened, coiled inside her, and heated her to a fever pitch.

  “Don’t push me away, sweetheart,” he whispered against her lips. “Please don’t make me go.”

  She grabbed a fistful of his shirt. He tasted so good, felt so good. Her resolution wobbled and toppled.

  “What am I going to do with you, Cole?”

  “I honestly don’t know, but don’t shut me out.”

  “I’ve been miserable this past week, too,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what’s happening between us, but this thing, from here on out, needs to be exclusive.”

  “For both of us,” he said.

  “For both of us.” She dropped her head on his shoulder, and they stood quietly, the birds serenading them.

  “You looked a million miles away when I walked back here,” Cole said. He glanced at the magazine in her hand.

  She blushed, praying he couldn’t read her mind. Didn’t know she’d been daydreaming about him. “I was imagining what the house and grounds will be like once they’re restored. And that’ll be soon—with Beck and his men, with the help you’ve given.” She waved a hand. “The brides. The grooms. Happy families created and joined.”

  He reached out for her hand, then drew her back onto the swing with him. He scuffed his foot on the ground beneath the swing, his eyes not meeting hers. “The garden’s startin’ to take shape. You’ve been workin’ hard here.”

  She nodded, accepting the change of subject.

  “Yeah. So.” He cleared his throat. “I had to drive over to Beaufort this morning to pick up an order for a customer. Figured since I was passin’ this close, I’d stop in to see if we could clear the air. If I could help with anything. Hell, that’s not the truth. Well, partially, but the thing is…” He raised his hands, palms up. “I couldn’t stay away.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t.” The words were nearly a whisper. “Today’s turned into a quiet day.”

  “So I heard. I talked to Beck on the phone. He’s still pretty pissed.”

  Oh, she hoped so because that would help banish those tiny fingers of doubt that had crept into her.

  “What’s wrong?” Cole frowned. “I thought Beck said he’d handled everything. That you’d be back on track in a couple days.”

  Her face, so easy to read, gave her away. Something wasn’t right. Would she try to bluff her way out of it?

  But he didn’t dare push since he wasn’t being totally honest, either. He hadn’t yet come clean about Richard. He suspected the banker had been behind the permit fiasco. It would cost Jenni Beth three days with money flooding out and none coming in. He had a hard time chalking it up to coincidence. Only fools blamed chance for their misfortunes.

  She shifted on the swing and her hip rubbed along the length of his. He cursed himself for wedging into this small space with
her. Far too close. Too intimate. Every time their bodies touched, little zaps of electricity shot through him.

  Lust pooled in him, pulled at him.

  And he had to ignore it or at least tame it. Right now, things were tenuous at best between them.

  Jennifer Elizabeth would never be anybody’s floor mat, and he liked that about her. It would make life hell at times, though, living with a woman that strong.

  Beside him, all sun-warmed and relaxed, Jenni Beth sure did look kissable. It occurred to him they’d never been out on an actual date. Sure, they’d spent time together but nothing that had been arranged beforehand. Nothing where they’d set time aside for each other intentionally. He had an idea to rectify that, although he wasn’t sure it would technically qualify. If not, though, it would come awfully darn close. If she balked at it, he could downplay the date part, deny it if necessary.

  “Since you can’t do anything else here today, why don’t you come over to my place for dinner? Nothing’s pressing in the city, so I don’t need to rush back tonight. I hadn’t planned to show up before closin’ anyway, so Mickey doesn’t expect me. I finished things up faster than I’d figured, so here I am with time on my hands.”

  She said nothing, just stared at him.

  “Come on. Two friends sharin’ dinner.”

  She opened her mouth, and he laid a finger over her lips.

  “I know what you’re gonna say. We’re not friends.” He met her blue eyes, stared directly into them. “You’re wrong about that. Whatever else we are, we’re friends and have been for a long time. Besides, you’ve been sayin’ you want to see my house. Check out what I did to the old barn.”

  He picked up her hand, laced his fingers with hers. “We’ll keep things light. Promise.”

  “Will anyone else be there?”

  “Nope. Just you and me. Nothin’ fancy. Wear your favorite jeans or whatever.”

  He swore the earth made a complete rotation while she debated.

  “It’s not that big a deal, Jenni Beth.”

  “Your parents will see me.”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “You know what conclusion they’ll draw.”

  “That you’re sleepin’ with me.”

  Color rushed up her neck, over her face, and he threw back his head and laughed.

  She punched him in the arm, and he winced.

  “So will you come?”

  She eyed him as if weighing the pros and cons. He figured it was the curiosity, not him, that finally won her over.

  She threw up her hands. “Call me five kinds of a fool, but okay. What time?”

  “Why don’t you come over around six? Or do you want me to pick you up?”

  She laughed. “It’s not a date, remember? Just two old friends getting together to share a meal. I’ll drive myself, thanks.”

  * * *

  Cole fretted like a spinster about to get laid for the first time. The invitation had been spontaneous. After she’d said yes, he’d driven home full of worry.

  He wanted everything to be perfect. He dusted, vacuumed, and cleaned the sinks and toilets.

  Giving in to his baser instincts, he changed his sheets. Just in case. He smiled wryly. A guy never knew when he might get lucky. Hands trembling, he checked his dresser drawer. Yep. A box of condoms ready to go. Again, just in case.

  He seriously doubted he’d be so lucky a second time.

  His mind flew back to that night in Savannah. Wes had asked him to stop by Jenni Beth’s, to make sure she was doing okay. They’d ended up watching TV, eating pizza, and making love. He never had been sure exactly how that had happened, but it was, hands down, the best night of his life.

  She’d been so incredibly beautiful, and he’d wanted her for so long. She’d been everything he’d imagined and more.

  They’d finally fallen asleep in the wee hours of the morning, wrapped around each other. They’d both worn Cheshire grins and nothing else.

  It had fallen apart a couple hours later. He’d woken. Light shone through the window, scattered over her. She’d looked so young, so vulnerable. That vulnerability was shared. Deep down, he knew he’d fallen and hard.

  He wasn’t ready for it.

  And so he’d had to leave.

  Without a word of good-bye, without a note or a follow-up phone call, he’d crept out and pretended the night had never happened.

  But it had, and they’d kicked it under the carpet too long.

  Tonight they’d deal with it, one way or another.

  He rubbed sweaty palms over his jeans.

  Food! He slapped his forehead. If Jenni Beth was coming for dinner, he had to feed her. He’d been so hung up on, well, other possibilities, that he hadn’t actually thought about dinner.

  A quick check in both fridge and freezer proved fruitless. He’d have to run into town for groceries, come home, and cook! Oh boy. He was in trouble.

  He could handle the basics. Heck, he’d been fending for himself for a long time now, but Jenni Beth probably wouldn’t look too kindly on a bowl of Cheerios for dinner or a toaster waffle drowned in syrup. A pizza? Nope. After Savannah, that was definitely off the table.

  So he did what every self-respecting, independent male did when faced with this kind of a quandary. He headed to his mom’s.

  And, bless her heart, Emma Bryson didn’t skip a beat. No grilling him. No questions he didn’t want to answer. Probably couldn’t answer under threat of death. No reminders, or warnings, or threats.

  Instead, she walked to the freezer and withdrew a casserole dish of homemade lasagna along with a loaf of frozen Parmesan garlic bread. Setting them on the counter, she returned to the fridge for a bag of salad and a container of her own Italian dressing.

  He thanked her with a smacking kiss. “You’re a lifesaver, Mom.”

  “That’s what moms do.” She loaded it all into a bag, her eyes twinkling when she looked up at him. “Jenni Beth Beaumont. Honey, I’m so happy.”

  Wariness crept into him. “Don’t read too much into this, Mom. It’s only dinner.”

  “I know.” Still, her smile grew bigger. “She’s a brilliant girl. A sweet girl.”

  Was that a warning or simply pleasure? He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t intend to ask.

  “She’s been workin’ hard over at her place and deserves a night off, a night when somebody takes care of her for a change.”

  “Surely her mother does that.”

  He shrugged. “Things are gettin’ better, but for a while her mom and dad were both pretty wrapped up in their own misery.”

  “That’s understandable. I can’t begin to imagine—and don’t want to.” A deep sorrow filled his mother’s eyes. It hurt him to see it.

  “This house renovation’s been good for everybody. Sue Ellen and Todd have finally gotten involved in it. It’s takin’ them out of their grief.”

  “Thank you for helping them.” She patted his cheek.

  “I haven’t done much.”

  “You gave Jenni Beth support. You believed in her. That can be priceless.” She picked up a notepad. “Let me write down the heating instructions for all this. You can make your own dessert.”

  He gaped at her. “I can’t make dessert.”

  “Then it’s past time you learned. I’ll give you a simple recipe and all the ingredients.”

  When he left his parents, laden down with food and directions, he couldn’t help whistling. The tune, “Dream a Little Dream,” had been playing in his head these past few days.

  Wasn’t that what both he and Jenni Beth had been doing? She dreamed of opening her own business, of saving her family home. And him? He dreamed of having her in his life.

  On a temporary basis, of course.

  Chapter 20

  The evening promised to be beautiful. The temperature ha
d dropped and the humidity with it. The azaleas in the backyard were nearly done blooming, but they still looked good. A couple fragrant climbing roses spread splashes of pink and white along the barn-red sides of his doorway.

  So much rested on tonight. A long overdue apology. A hope for the future.

  On a whim, he decided to move the party outside.

  After clearing his whitewashed, salvaged table, he hoisted it up and carried it to the side yard. Heading back inside, he grabbed two of the spindle chairs and set them at opposite sides of the table.

  He scrounged around till he found the rest of what he needed. A vintage tablecloth, some chunky candles, and his better plates and salt and pepper shakers. Cutting some of the roses, he arranged them in Mason jars. He stepped away to study the scene with a critical eye.

  Not bad.

  After he convinced himself it would pass muster, he went inside and put together the pineapple-cherry dump cake. It sure did smell good—even before it started baking. Or maybe that was the lasagna. His stomach growled.

  Images of Jenni Beth floated through his mind, and he realized he had an appetite for a whole lot more than food.

  After he showered, he actually took a few minutes to wipe the glass door dry and hang his towel. If the gods smiled down on him, would he share the shower with Jenni Beth in the morning?

  He hesitated to count on it. Tonight he was determined to put the Savannah episode on the table and deal with it. It might turn ugly. Realistically, the prognosis for that outcome? Not good. But without the discussion? They had nothing.

  His hair was still damp when he heard the crunch of tires in his driveway. Moving to the doorway, he leaned against the jamb and watched as she pulled in.

  She’d done her hair in some sort of long braid that hung over one shoulder. A skirt, not much bigger than a napkin, rode up as she slid from behind the wheel, showing off miles of gorgeous, tanned legs showcased by high-heeled sandals. A slinky little red top designed to make a man’s eyes pop out of his head completed her outfit.

  So much for casual.