A Proposal at the Wedding

by Gina Wilkins

  She bent to pick up a pretty little gray rock, smoothed by years of tumbling in the stream. “I’m sure there’s a need for math teachers in Texas.”

  “Dallas is Holly’s path now, not mine. We’ll always be connected by Cassie, maybe some grandkids someday—but now it’s time for us to go our own ways. I’m just trying to decide what my way is now. Got a whole world of options open to me.”

  She bit her lip in response to that breezy comment. After a moment’s mental debate, she had to ask. “Are you sorry? That you and Holly didn’t stay together, I mean?”

  He laughed then, somewhat incredulously. “No, of course not. Holly and I were just kids when we were together, not the same people we are today at all. Even if we had tried to stay together for Cassie’s sake, it wouldn’t have lasted. Our goals and ambitions were completely different. We’d have driven each other crazy before too long. She and Larry were pretty much made for each other, and you couldn’t find a happier family if you tried.”

  Bonnie looked at the sleepy turtles again. She wondered if part of the difference between Paul and Holly had been that she had wanted marriage and several children, whereas he had liked living on his own for the most part. But she really should stop trying to analyze Paul and simply enjoy this outing with him.

  Stewie snorted and tossed his head, then nuzzled a tasty-looking plant at his feet. Bonnie chuckled. “I think he’s reminding us that we have more trail to ride.”

  “He can wait another minute.”

  She hadn’t been aware that Paul had moved until she felt his hands on her shoulders. She turned with a smile and lifted her face to him even as his mouth descended toward hers. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she decided the horses could wait a bit longer than a minute.

  He took his time kissing her, apparently in no hurry to return to the ride. In this pretty spot with the music of nature serenading her and Paul’s arms warm around her, she could think of no reason at all to rush back to reality. She closed her eyes and savored every sound, every sensation, every inch of his body pressed to hers.

  Her heavy lids rose again when eventually he separated their lips, though he kept his face close to hers. Their gazes locked and a slow smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I picked you up this afternoon,” he confessed.

  She smiled at him. “I’m glad you finally got around to it.”

  He chuckled and brushed another light kiss over her upwardly curved lips. “You look really good on horseback. But then, you always look good.”

  “And you are quite the smooth talker,” she replied, running a fingertip along his firm jawline. “But I’m not complaining.”

  “I’m only speaking the truth,” he assured her. “Tim thinks I’m a lucky guy to have you here with me today. And I agree.”

  Stewie flicked his tail and shifted his weight again, dislodging a little avalanche of pebbles. One of the turtles splashed noisily from the rock into the water, and Ace shook his head, perhaps shooing a fly, his tack rattling. Those sounds drew Bonnie’s attention, making her aware that the afternoon was rushing by. Paul sighed as if in silent acknowledgment.

  “I guess we’d better mount up,” he said. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”

  With one last lingering glance around the magical little glen, she turned and walked to her waiting horse.

  The cloud cover had grown thicker by the time they eventually returned to the stables, so that it looked later in the day than it actually was. Bonnie could almost smell a hint of the approaching rain in the air. They needed rain for the gardens back at the inn, but she was always relieved when showers fell early in the week rather than weekends when weddings or other outdoor events were usually scheduled.

  She kissed Stewie’s velvety nose and thanked him for being such an obliging mount for the pleasant ride. Stewie nodded and chuffed, which she decided to interpret as, “You’re welcome.”

  “It was nice to meet you, Bonnie.” Tim tugged the brim of his Western-style hat in a charmingly old-­fashioned gesture. “You come back anytime, you hear?”

  She promised him she would recommend his services to future guests of the inn now that she had checked out the business for herself. It was just over an hour’s drive from the inn, and she could assure anyone interested that it was an outing well worth the time and cost—though she noted that Tim refused to accept payment from Paul when it was offered.

  Just in case the rain began sooner than expected, Paul put the top up on his car before driving out of the lot. Only ten minutes or so into the drive, he cleared his throat. “I know it’s a bit too early for dinner, but I’m hungry. How do you feel about stopping for a snack?”

  She glanced at her watch. Though it was only a quarter till five, she was a little hungry, too. Maybe due to the ride, the fresh air or just the power of suggestion, but whatever the reason, she agreed. “I could eat.”

  “There’s a pretty decent diner about five miles on down the road. The kids like to stop there for burgers or pie after a ride.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He nodded without looking away from the road. The section they were on was steep and winding with occasional drops off the sides beyond narrow gravel shoulders, requiring all his attention. It was beautiful countryside but a drive that called for caution, and she was pleased that he took their safety seriously. Unlike some reckless drivers, she thought with a disapproving shake of her head as two young people on a motorcycle, guy driving, girl clinging to his waist, buzzed around them from behind. They looked to be in their late teens or early twenties and appeared to be laughing because they’d passed the older driver in the yellow sport coupe. At least they were wearing helmets, though their shorts and T-shirts would do little to protect them in a fall.

  “Moron,” Paul muttered, watching as the bike leaned almost sideways to disappear around the next sharp curve ahead. “If I saw anyone driving like that with my daughter on the back, I’d—uh…”

  He grimaced. “Okay, maybe that sounded a little curmudgeonly.”

  She shrugged. “I totally agree. He’s being reckless. I hope they don’t—”

  Paul rounded the corner just in time to see the motorcycle wobble, fishtail, then skid over the edge of the road and out of sight.

  Chapter Six

  Paul slammed on the brakes and pulled his car to the side of the road. “Call 911,” he said, even as he turned on the emergency flashers and all but leaped out of the driver’s seat.

  Bonnie scrambled after him, the phone already at her ear. Reaching the side of the road where the bike had gone over, Paul hesitated only long enough to look down through the broken and flattened brush at the top of the hillside that fell from the roadway. “Tell them to send an ambulance,” he said before disappearing into the matted foliage.

  She was almost afraid of what she might see when she looked over after him once she’d been assured help was on the way. The hill wasn’t as steep as it had at first appeared, though the bike had still tumbled a good way down from the road. It lay in a crumpled heap against a tree. The riders had been thrown clear. She could see that the driver had tugged off his helmet and was struggling to sit up. Paul knelt beside the woman, who sprawled awkwardly on her back, her helmet still in place.

  Bonnie slipped and stumbled as she made her way down to the others, but remained on her feet. “You should lie back down,” she said to the young man, who swayed as he struggled to rise. She rested a hand on his shoulder, wincing at the sight of his scraped and bleeding arms and legs. His right foot seemed to be twisted at an odd angle and she suspected his ankle was broken. She worried that there could be other injuries not as immediately apparent. “Just lie still. An ambulance is on the way.”

  He turned his face to her, his dark eyes wide with shock and pain. His sandy hair was matted to his head, and his face h
ad gone pale beneath his tan. The helmet and face shield had protected his head, but she had no way of knowing if he had neck or spine injuries. “My girlfriend,” he mumbled. “Cheryl…”

  “My friend is taking care of her,” she said firmly, nudging him back down to the rocky ground. “What’s your name?”

  He shifted uncomfortably and drew a ragged breath. She suspected the numbness from the initial shock was wearing off, and that the pain would worsen rapidly. “Kyle. Kyle Neighbors.”

  “Okay, Kyle. Lie down and I’ll check on your friend.”

  His breathing was a series of low moans now, but he managed a nod with his eyes squeezed shut, his hands fisted into the grass at his sides. Bonnie scooted over to Paul. “How is she?”

  “She has some injuries, but she’s going to be fine,” he said bracingly, the words as much for Cheryl as for Bonnie.

  He’d lifted the face shield on the helmet to reveal Cheryl’s pale, tear-streaked face. Wild red curls fell from beneath the helmet, lying in a tangled mass beneath her on the ground. She cried softly, a mixture of sobs and low moans.

  Bonnie saw that Paul had one hand pressed against Cheryl’s upper leg. Blood oozed from beneath his fingers, making her aware that he was putting pressure on a wound to slow the bleeding. Without stopping to think, she tugged off her eyelet shirt, leaving her clad in the lace-trimmed tank top. “Here. Use this as a bandage or tourniquet,” she offered, extending the shirt to Paul. “Whatever you need.”

  “It’ll be ruined.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” She caught the injured woman’s flailing arm. “Cheryl, my name is Bonnie. Lie still, okay? Help is coming.”

  “Helmet… Take it off.”

  “Let’s leave it on for now,” Paul said gently. “We don’t know if there are any spinal injuries.”

  As her initial daze from the accident wore off, Cheryl became more agitated, squirming and crying out from pain and fear. Still putting pressure on the bleeding wound, now using Bonnie’s shirt as a pad, Paul finally spoke firmly to the young woman, in what Bonnie imagined to be his father and schoolteacher voice.

  “Cheryl, you’re going to have to be still now,” he ordered, his tone kind but implacable. “I know you’re scared and you’re in a lot of pain, but you have to be brave until the ambulance gets here, or you’re going to make everything much worse. Do you understand?”

  Subsiding into quiet tears, Cheryl nodded as best she could in the helmet.

  Bonnie couldn’t help but be impressed by the way Paul had taken charge of the scene. He was so different now than the easygoing horseman who’d flirted with her on the trail, the sunburned athlete who’d kissed her in his kitchen. This, she realized, was the man everyone called upon in a crisis, and now she had a better understanding of why.

  “But it hurts,” Cheryl whispered on a sob.

  His firm tone immediately softening, Paul rested a hand comfortingly on the young woman’s shoulder. “I know,” he said, “and help is on the way. We’re going to take very good care of you until it arrives, okay?”

  Biting her lip, Cheryl nodded again, her eyes fixed on Paul’s face as if she drew strength from his confidence and kindness. And here, Bonnie thought, was the special side of him that made so many people love him. She was all too close to that point, herself.

  “Where’s Kyle?” Cheryl asked, seeming to suddenly think a bit more clearly through her pain and disorientation.

  “Kyle’s fine,” Bonnie assured her. “If you’ll be as calm as you can for Paul, I’ll go check on him again.”

  “O-okay.”

  Bonnie patted the younger woman’s shoulder bracingly and moved to Kyle, who lay in the same position as she’d left him, moaning and occasionally cursing beneath his breath. Seeing the tears streaking his cheeks, she rested her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. The ambulance should be here soon.”

  She heard occasional traffic pass above, but no one stopped. There weren’t many cars on the road on a Monday midafternoon. She knew they weren’t visible to the people passing; all they would see was Paul’s car parked on the shoulder with the hazard lights flashing, as if he’d run out of gas or had engine trouble. She couldn’t help wondering how long Kyle and Cheryl would have lain here if she and Paul hadn’t witnessed the accident.

  A drop of water fell on her hand, and for a moment she thought it was one of Kyle’s tears. But then more followed and she realized it was beginning to rain, very lightly at the moment but sure to strengthen. She hoped the heavy rain would hold off just a little longer, for all of their sakes.

  “Oh, thank God,” she murmured only a moment later, finally hearing the muted wail of an approaching siren. “Kyle, do you hear that? The ambulance is almost here. You and Cheryl are going to be fine.”

  It wasn’t long afterward that Kyle and Cheryl were strapped to backboards, carried up the hillside and whisked away by ambulance to the nearest hospital. After giving their statements to the police officers working the accident, Bonnie and Paul, too, were finally free to leave.

  Bonnie looked down at her wet, grubby clothes, then at Paul’s which bore even more dirt and blood. “We’ll mess up your car.”

  “Leather seats, they’ll clean up. But you’re shivering.”

  The rain was still light, but increasingly steady. The narrow straps of her top bared her shoulders and arms to the wet, rapidly cooling air. The wet cotton clung to her, and she was aware that the outline of her bra was visible through the fabric. She hadn’t realized she was cold until he’d pointed it out. Now she noticed the goose bumps that prickled her arms.

  Paul opened his trunk and drew out a thin plaid stadium blanket. He gave it a shake, then wrapped it around her shoulders. For just a moment, she allowed herself to lean against him, aware for the first time that her hands were shaking. He tightened his arms around her in a hug he seemed to need as badly as she did before settling her into the passenger seat. By the time he’d made it around the front of the car and into his own seat, the rain was coming down in earnest. Buckled into her seat, Bonnie drew the blanket more snugly around her as Paul started the car and drove carefully back onto the wet road.

  “Do you think Cheryl will be okay?” she asked him, looking at the blood that streaked his clothes.

  “She was banged up pretty good, but I think she’ll be okay now that she’s getting medical attention.”

  “I hope she’ll recover quickly. I have to admit, I was pretty scared when they went off the road, and when I saw all the blood on her legs.”

  “Me, too.”

  She tilted her head, looking at his grim profile. “­Really? You seemed so calm.”

  “All an outside act for Cheryl’s sake. Inside, I was one blood spurt away from losing my cookies.”

  “You’re a handy guy to have around in a crisis,” she said lightly, trying to recapture the pleasant mood of earlier that day.

  “So everyone keeps telling me,” he said, staring fiercely at the wet road ahead. “But sometimes I think it would be nice not to always be the go-to guy.”

  She bit her lip, frowning a little in response to his tone. Was he really tired of everyone depending on him, or was this just his reaction to the nerve-racking incident, much like her own shaking hands?

  As if sensing her thoughts, he shook his head impatiently. “I don’t mean that, of course. I’m glad we were there to help. Just shook me up, that’s all.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Maybe we’d better skip the diner this trip,” he said.

  Putting irrelevant thoughts out of her mind—for now—she glanced down at her clothes. “I think that’s best, since I look like a drowned rat.”

  He shot a very quick glance at her before focusing on the road again. “I wouldn’t call you a drowned rat. A drowned kitten, maybe. Much cuter.”

&nb
sp; She smiled for the first time since they’d seen the motorcycle tumble off the road. “Oh, thanks so much.”

  His chuckle sounded very weary. Thinking of all that had happened that eventful day, she sat back in her seat and let him concentrate on the road ahead.

  It was certainly late enough for dinner by the time Paul drove into the inn’s parking lot. Bonnie directed him to drive around to the back, closer to her apartment entrance. Rain pounded the top of his car now and the surrounding mountaintops were illuminated by flashes of lightning followed moments later by a cranky grumble of thunder. Parking behind her little sedan, which was protected beneath a small carport, Paul reached behind his seat and retrieved a black umbrella.

  “Hang on,” he said, “I’ll come around and get you. I only have the one umbrella.”

  She looked wryly down at her soiled clothing. “I don’t think a little rain will hurt me.”

  As if to protest her use of the word little, a gust of wind threw a heavy wave of rain at the car, accompanied by another distant growl of thunder as the center of the storm blew nearer. “I’ll come around,” Paul repeated, then drew a deep breath and opened his door.

  Leaving the damp blanket in the car, she clutched her small bag to her chest and huddled with him beneath the umbrella during the short dash to her door. None of the guests were out in this weather, of course, nor did she see any sign of her brother or sister. Kinley’s car had been in the front lot, so she was probably in the parlor with the guests, keeping an eye on the weather reports.

  Paul kept an arm around her bare shoulders to hold her close beneath the umbrella. He didn’t release her even when they ducked beneath the small gable roof above her private entrance. He angled the umbrella to protect her from blowing rain as she fumbled with her key and unlocked the door.

  Turning the doorknob, she looked up at him. “Come in with me. I’ll make us something for dinner. Maybe the storm will let up some before you leave.”