A Winter Wedding (Whiskey Creek)

by Brenda Novak

  “Then you can join my family,” Kyle said.

  She met his gaze. “You mean Brandon and Olivia?”

  “And his mother and my father.”

  Somehow, joining Kyle and his family actually sounded appealing. “Maybe I will.”

  10

  Lourdes felt great about the women she’d chosen for Kyle. There were several matches on Single Central he found interesting and attractive. Fortunately, he agreed with her opinion on who was the most appealing.

  “What about this one?” she asked. “I marked her as a maybe.”

  The picture showed a well-toned woman wearing workout clothes. She looked good.

  “Why would there be any question?” he joked.

  Lourdes frowned. “I don’t care for what she wrote in her profile. There’s something superficial about it. She goes on and on about bodybuilding and focuses too heavily on meeting someone who’s as ‘active’ as she is, which I interpret as a euphemism for saying she expects whoever she dates to be completely dedicated to the gym.”

  She waited for Kyle to read the profile himself.

  “I don’t frequent a gym, but I run most days,” he said. “And I lift three times a week. You don’t think that’ll be enough for her?”

  “It’s more your approach.” She’d seen the weights in the extra room. She could tell he used them. But he didn’t seem obsessed with his body. “You’re more practical about fitness than she seems to be. I’m guessing you work out to live a healthier life.”

  His expression indicated that he found her statement odd. “Is there any other reason?”

  “Yes. Working out is her life. That body is a badge of honor.”

  “You never know,” he said. “She might be okay. Most people want to look good, especially if they’re single and their photos are going up on a site like this.”

  “That’s generous, but I’m guessing she comes with all kinds of dietary restrictions. A woman doesn’t get as muscular as a man without making some sacrifices—or taking steroids.”

  “That’s more of a city thing,” he mused. “I haven’t seen a lot of women who are into weight lifting out here.”

  “I’ve seen plenty of it in my line of work. It gets old.”

  “Do you lift? Or do any other kind of exercise?”

  “When I’m at home, I go to the gym every day. I have to, if I want to keep up with the competition.” Crystal was gorgeous. “But I resent the pressure to achieve physical perfection.”

  “Who’s keeping track? I mean, are you sure you’re not the one putting yourself under pressure?”

  “The tabloids are keeping track, for starters. You must’ve seen what they’ve said about people like Kirstie Alley, Wynonna Judd, Garth Brooks and Kelly Clarkson.” Derrick threw those names up to her all the time—whenever she ate something she shouldn’t, or when she hadn’t made it to the gym. He told her if she wasn’t careful she’d wind up the next pathetic fat girl on the cover of National Enquirer and she’d be eclipsed in popularity, since so much of a female singer’s success depended on her beauty. “Name one artist who’s fat and ugly,” he’d say whenever she’d try to suggest that her fame was based on her talent. And she couldn’t—unless that artist had started years and years ago, when she looked better. Lourdes could come up with plenty of male singers who weren’t in top physical form, but there seemed to be more forgiveness in the industry for men.

  Still, Derrick’s reminders were irritating, especially since he didn’t work out himself. “I’m not in the public eye,” he’d say.

  “It’s all part of show business,” she told Kyle. “Anyway, I say we pass on this Barbie. We’re talking about finding you a mate—not a woman who’s primarily interested in the way she looks.”

  He shrugged. “I’m fine with seeing how it goes with these other women first. We can always come back to her later.”

  Lourdes liked that he seemed to understand what she was saying. “Do you have a picture of Olivia?” she asked.

  He glanced up from her computer screen, where he’d been reading about another candidate named Mandy Suffolk.

  “Why do you want to see her?”

  “I’m curious.”

  After a slight pause, he pulled his phone from his pocket and showed her a wedding photo.

  “What? You were in your stepbrother’s line when he married the woman you love?” she said.

  “Olivia was in Noelle’s line when Noelle married me, too. That was probably worse, since what I’d done was so fresh.”

  “What you and Noelle both did,” she corrected, but he ignored it.

  “I still can’t believe that Olivia’s mother asked her to plan the wedding,” he murmured.

  Lourdes sat up taller. “Olivia planned your wedding?”

  “She doesn’t do much of that these days. Brandon used to be a professional skier and has all the money they need. But she plans a few events here and there—for instance, she’s doing another friend’s wedding right now.”

  “Still. Planning her sister’s wedding, when her sister stole her boyfriend? Talk about adding insult to injury.”

  “It saved their folks a lot of money. It was practical. And, as I’ve learned since, family is family.”

  “Not always. There are plenty of families with estranged members.”

  “In a small town it’s harder to have that sort of thing going on. Besides, dividing the sisters would only penalize her parents, who’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “I guess that’s true.” Lourdes studied the bride. No question Olivia was attractive—quite a bit more attractive than Noelle. Maybe that was where Noelle’s jealousy came in. Maybe she’d been constantly passed over for Olivia and was determined to have her turn, for a change.

  Brandon wasn’t bad-looking, either, Lourdes decided. Not that she planned to volunteer her opinion to Kyle. “So you like blondes?”

  “I don’t have a preference,” he replied.

  “I’m glad to hear that, since all the women I’ve chosen for you happen to be brunette.”

  “I notice that some of them have children, too.” He took over at the mouse and clicked through the various profiles. “I thought you were opposed to that ‘secondary market’ stuff.”

  “I’m not opposed to it. It just makes for a more difficult relationship, because of the variables involved.” She reached for the mouse and clicked on the mail icon for a woman named Ruby Meyers. “Let’s send these ladies a message, shall we?”

  “Let’s?” he repeated. “No way. I can handle that part myself. Later.” He got up and grabbed his coat. “It’s December 3—three weeks before Christmas. I say we go get a tree.”

  “You want me to go with you?” she asked. “To leave the house?”

  “Why not? No one will see you. We’ll go out in the woods and cut our own.”

  Despite everything, she felt a spark of excitement. The past few years she’d been so busy with her career she hadn’t paid much attention to the various holidays, and Christmas was no different. This reminded her of Christmases past, when she was a little girl and would go out with her family to get a tree. “Is that a tradition of yours?”

  “No. My assistant puts up a fake one at work. I usually let it go at that, since that’s where I spend most of my time. But...I think you could use a tree.”

  “Me?”

  He grinned at her. “I’m not the one who’s been crying.”

  “How will a Christmas tree fix what’s wrong with me?”

  “It won’t, but it can’t hurt to remind you of other things that matter.”

  He had a point. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Kyle had just chopped down the tree Lourdes had chosen. It was so large, he doubted it would even fit in his ho
use, but she was so adamant that it would be perfect, she’d bet him $50.

  “I feel like an icicle,” she said, rubbing her hands and jumping from one foot to the other. “We need some hot chocolate.”

  Kyle couldn’t understand why she was cold. She hadn’t brought any snow gear, so she was wearing his heavy coat, hat and gloves. Then again...he’d done all the work. He’d been too afraid the tree would fall on top of her if he let her chop away—although it was far more likely she would’ve just wasted her time and effort hacking ineffectively. She’d obviously never handled an ax.

  “We can go by the grocery store and buy some to make at home,” he said. “Or we can grab a cup at the Gas-N-Go. Your choice.”

  “I say the Gas-N-Go. I want whipped cream on top.”

  Breathing heavily from the exertion, he straightened to give himself a rest. “You’re not acting too depressed.”

  “I feel strangely...happy,” she admitted. “As long as I don’t think of Derrick.”

  As far as he could tell, she hadn’t checked her phone since they’d left, which made him believe she hadn’t yet answered Derrick’s earlier text. “Yeah. Watching me chop down a tree is pretty exciting.”

  She chuckled. “I do have you to thank. You keep distracting me from my misery.”

  He gave her a wry smile. “You like playing matchmaker, like talking about those women you found.”

  She cocked her head. “Whom you don’t seem in any hurry to contact.”

  “I’ll get around to it. In the meantime, my profile is up.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “They can write me if they want to.”

  “So you are arrogant.”

  “And if I said the opposite, I’d be sexist,” he teased.

  When she took out her phone, he thought maybe she was finally checking to see if she’d heard from Derrick again. “Can you get a signal out here?” he asked.

  “I don’t need a signal. I’m taking a picture.” She raised her cell phone. “Smile!”

  “Another photo for my profile?” he asked. “Now we’re going to portray me as a guy who’s full of Christmas cheer?”

  “This is actually for me. I think it’s funny watching you single-handedly wrestle that giant tree into your truck.”

  He got a better hold on the trunk and lifted it cleanly. “Here you go. Now everyone on Single Central will see that I don’t need a gym,” he joked.

  Her breath misted as she laughed. “Show-off!”

  After another ten minutes spent tugging and dragging and maneuvering, he finally managed to get the darn tree into the bed of his truck and securely tied down. “I won’t be pleased when I can’t get this through the front door,” he warned as he examined his work. “Even if I will be fifty bucks richer.”

  She stamped the snow from her boots, which were too big, since they were his. “Did we ever shake on that?”

  “Did we have to?”

  She glanced at him skeptically. “I don’t want to bet anymore. It looks a lot bigger now that it’s been cut down.”

  He gave her the evil eye. “Don’t you dare say that. I tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t listen.”

  “I might’ve been wrong,” she said with a sheepish grin. “But...we can always cut off more. Make it work.”

  Exhausted, he climbed into the cab of the truck while she did the same. “It’ll take a second for the heater to get going,” he said. He turned it on full blast, but he didn’t think she needed that much warm air. She was practically buried under his winter gear. “Look at you,” he said, reaching over to pull the hat farther out of her eyes, since her own hands were encumbered by the oversize gloves.

  “You sure know how to show a girl a good time,” she teased.

  He shifted into Reverse. “I did the chopping. You get to do the decorating.”

  “Fine,” she said. “Do you have any ornaments?”

  “Come to think of it, I don’t,” he replied. “But I’m sure my mother has some she’ll let us use.”

  “Your mother? Or Brandon’s?”

  “Brandon’s. My stepmom.”

  “What happened to your own mom?”

  “She died of an amniotic fluid embolism when I was five.”

  “I’ve never heard of that...”

  Kyle couldn’t decide whether or not to explain it. He didn’t want to frighten her away from the idea of having children at some point. “It doesn’t happen very often.” He hoped she’d leave it at that, but she didn’t.

  “So what is it?”

  “Like I said, it’s rare. It’s a complication of childbirth.”

  “She was having a baby? Did the baby make it?”

  “’Fraid not. For whatever reason, she went into labor early. They were struggling to save what would’ve been my younger sister and then, without warning, my mother went into cardiac arrest. We lost them both.”

  “That’s terrible! I’m so sorry.”

  “I wish it’d never happened. But it was a long time ago, so don’t feel bad.”

  His phone rang as he was about to pull off the narrow dirt pathways onto the main road they’d taken to get to this remote place. It almost transferred to voice mail before he could get the darn thing out of his pocket—and then he wasn’t sure whether to answer.

  “It’s Derrick.” He stayed where he was, letting the engine idle as he showed her his caller ID, which indicated a Tennessee area code.

  Lourdes bit her lip. “Why would he be contacting you?”

  “No idea. Maybe he figured out I’m the country magazine reporter who called him up and he’s pissed off.”

  “Don’t answer it,” she said, but he brought a finger to his lips to ask for silence, since he’d already pressed the button.

  “Hello?”

  “Kyle?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Derrick Meade. Lourdes’s manager.”

  “I guessed as much when I saw your number. What can I do for you, Derrick?”

  “I haven’t been able to reach Lourdes today. I was wondering if...if you could swing by and check on her.”

  Kyle glanced over at the woman in question. “Sure. But is there any reason I should be concerned? Have you tried her cell?”

  “I’ve tried to call her—and I’ve texted her several times—but I haven’t received a response.”

  “I see. I’ll drop by and take a peek.”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  “No problem.”

  After Kyle hit the end button, he dropped his cell between the seats.

  “What’d he want?” Lourdes asked.

  “Said he hasn’t heard from you. Wants me to go by and make sure you’re okay.”

  “Why didn’t you tell him I’m sitting right here in the truck beside you?”

  “I thought it might make him realize that call we made was bogus and we were in on it together—since you’re supposed to be in seclusion and writing your next album.”

  She pulled off his gloves and hat. “I’ll text him,” she said, but she didn’t volunteer what she was going to say.

  11

  Kyle stopped at the Gas-N-Go to get Lourdes some hot chocolate. Then he swung by his parents’ house, hoping to borrow their extra Christmas decorations. But when he pulled up, both his father and Brandon were outside, hanging lights—and they immediately turned at the sound of his vehicle, so it wasn’t as if he could drive on past.

  “Shit,” he muttered as his father waved, confirming that he’d been instantly recognized.

  “Oh, my gosh! That’s Brandon, isn’t it?” Lourdes’s eyes skipped over his father to his stepbrother.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry. I never dreamed anyone would be outside.” At the Gas-N-Go, he’d said h
e would just run inside and grab what they needed while she waited in the truck.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Unless they listen to country-western music, they probably won’t recognize me.” She turned the rearview mirror. “Yikes! They might not recognize me, anyway. I have hat hair and no makeup. Plus, I’m wearing your coat, and I’m drowning in it.”

  Maybe his father wouldn’t realize who she was, but Brandon would. Kyle had told him and their friends at Black Gold that she was in town, so Brandon would guess who she was without having to recognize her. “You can still stay in the truck. I’ll tell them you’re my renter, and that I’m helping you get a tree. My folks will be fine with that.”

  Lourdes seemed reluctant to accept the out he offered her. “I don’t want them to think I’m rude...”

  “They won’t.”

  “Of course they will.”

  “What does it matter?”

  “I don’t want anyone to think badly of me.”

  “I’ll say we were in a hurry. No big deal.”

  She gazed out at the home in which he’d been raised. “Will Olivia be here, too?”

  Kyle hadn’t been expecting the change in subject. “Probably. She’s usually with Brandon if he’s not at work.”

  “Then I’m going in.”

  He caught her arm as she reached for the door handle. “Why?”

  “Because I’d like to meet her—to see what my Single Central candidates are up against.”

  “That isn’t a good idea,” he said with a scowl. “The fewer people who see you, the better, right?”

  “We don’t have to explain what I do for a living. If they figure it out on their own...we’ll deal with it. We’re talking four people—your family. It’s not like I’ll be walking into a crowded room filled with strangers.”

  He opened his mouth to warn her that he’d already mentioned her to Brandon, but she hopped out before he could say anything.