A Proposal at the Wedding

by Gina Wilkins

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Looking back regretfully, she said, “Please do.”

  She hated that the evening was ending this way, but she had no other choice, she thought as she dashed for the stairs, assuming Paul would let himself out. He surely understood, but that didn’t make her feel any better.

  She was tired and grumpy when she changed out of damp, grubby clothes a couple of hours later and donned her pajamas. For the second night in a row, her time with Paul had ended disappointingly. She hadn’t even gotten a goodnight kiss this time. The extent of her disappointment was a bit daunting in itself.

  She was getting in too deep, she thought, climbing into her lonely bed. And she wasn’t talking about the water she’d spent half an hour mopping up in room five.

  Her phone rang and even the sight of his name on the screen made her breath catch, her heart beat a little faster. Her hand wasn’t quite steady when she put the phone to her ear. “Hi.”

  “Hi. How’s the flood?”

  “Contained, thank goodness.”

  “Any damage?”

  She pushed a hand wearily through her hair. “Nothing too bad. Fortunately, the ladies saw the water very quickly. The floor is tiled, so that was okay. The wood underneath the sink will probably have to be replaced, but Logan said that’s not too major. We won’t even have to turn it in to insurance. He thinks he can have the job completed tomorrow, so I don’t think we’ll have to lose any of our bookings.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “Yes. If the leak had sprung when the room was empty, it could have been much worse. Logan’s going to start checking pipes in all the suites next week, just in case there are any other problems we’re unaware of.”

  “Sounds like a good idea.”

  “It’s an old building. Always something needing attention.”

  “I’m sure.”

  She couldn’t think of anything more to say about the averted catastrophe at that moment. Instead, she said, “I’m sorry I rushed away from—”

  “Don’t apologize again,” he broke in with an undertone of humor in his voice. “Seriously, Bonnie, I get it. You have big responsibilities there. I’m not going to get in your way.”

  She frowned. She was glad he wasn’t annoyed at being brushed off by her two nights in a row, but did he have to be quite so sanguine about it? He could at least sound a little disappointed.

  “So, do you have any big plans for the rest of the week?” she asked, groping for an innocuous conversational topic.

  “Cassie and I have decided to take our bikes out tomorrow. She had some plans that fell through, so we’re going to ride the Creeper Trail one more time before she leaves.”

  “All thirty-five miles?” A multipurpose trail formed from an old railroad line, the Virginia Creeper Trail ran from Abingdon, Virginia, to Whitetop, Virginia, near the North Carolina state line. Winding through national forest and crossing old restored trestles that offered spectacular views, the trail was a popular local attraction for guests of the inn, some of whom brought their own mountain bikes, others who rented bikes from outfitters or preferred taking hikes along the trail.

  “That’s the plan. We’re packing picnics and figuring to take six hours or so to complete the ride. Already made arrangements for a shuttle service. Have you ever ridden the Creeper Trail?”

  “I’ve made the ride from Whitetop Station to Damascus.” That seventeen-mile section of the trail was mostly downhill, steeply so at times, and a favorite with tourists. “It was beautiful. I had a great time.”

  “I wish you could go with us tomorrow. Damascus to Abingdon is a great ride, too.”

  “Maybe I’ll get a chance to do the whole trail soon.”

  “I’d be happy to ride with you anytime.”

  “Sounds great,” she said brightly, though she wondered how long it would be before they could make good on that offer. And whether he would still be interested in taking her by the time she was free to go.

  “Speaking of Cassie, she told me your dress is almost ready. I think she’s going to call you tomorrow evening to set up a time to deliver it to you and take your picture in it for her portfolio.”

  “I can’t wait to see it. I’ll definitely make time for her.” Bonnie wasn’t sure if Cassie could wait until her shower on Sunday to take the photos for her class, but surely there would be a half hour or so beforehand when they could take care of it. “Tell her to call me anytime.”

  “I’ll pass along the message.”

  “Have fun on your ride with her tomorrow,” she said, hearing a hint of wistfulness in her own voice. “It’s nice that you can enjoy another father-daughter adventure before she moves away.”

  “Did your dad ever take you on bike rides?”

  “Not that I remember. Dad’s what some people call a foodie. He always treated us to the most exotic restaurant he could find while he was in town to have us sample foods that were out of our usual experience. He complained about what he called a lack of true variety in the Knoxville area, but really there were quite a few interesting international food choices. And he almost always took us to Dollywood in Pigeon Forge when he was in Tennessee, usually once every summer, though sometimes he was gone more than a year at a time. He’s a big Dolly Parton fan,” she added with a slightly hollow laugh.

  She didn’t hear an answering smile in Paul’s voice. “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “He was here the weekend we reopened to guests. That will be two years ago in November, so it’s been a year and eight months or so. I talked to him fairly recently by phone, though, and he sends email updates and photos from his travels. He’s been exploring Australia and New Zealand since he left here.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, how does he support himself when he’s globe-trotting?”

  “He has a couple of import and export partners here in the States. Dad makes overseas connections and they handle U.S. distribution. I’ve never asked a lot of questions, frankly, but he seems to get by okay. I know he sent money to our mother regularly when we were growing up. All of us refused to accept any more from him after we turned eighteen, though we encouraged him to stay in touch with us. We attended college on scholarships and work programs, but we felt uncomfortable taking money from him when he’d never been that much a part of our lives.”

  “It had to have been tough for you and Kinley and Logan, growing up without your dad in your life,” he said a bit tentatively. “For the most part, I mean.”

  “Harder for Logan, I think. I was so young when he left that I can’t say I pined for him, exactly, since I didn’t really remember him being there full time. But yeah, I missed having a full-time dad in my life. I was never surprised, but always disappointed when he left after his visits. I’d have loved to have been as close to him as you are with Cassie. You’ve done a wonderful job staying involved with her even though you weren’t married to her mom.”

  “I’m sorry you didn’t have a better relationship with your father.”

  “It’s certainly not at all the kind of relationship I’d want for my own children and their father,” she admitted, then added firmly, “But we had a great childhood. We adored our mom, and we had our great-uncle Leo, who was like a dad to her and a grandfather for us. We had busy social lives in Knoxville, and I had my big brother to watch out for me—a responsibility he always took very seriously.”

  Paul cleared his throat. “Yeah, I might have noticed that.”

  She laughed. “He’s not really so scary. He just likes to growl—sort of like his dog.”

  He paused a moment, then said, “I guess I should let you get some rest. I’m sure you have an early start planned for tomorrow.”

  “The usual,” she admitted. “I’m glad you called. I really hated having to rush away from you th
e way I did.”

  “I know. And as much as I understood, I regretted it, too.” His deep tone gave her a hint of the way he’d have preferred the evening to end, instead. Which would not have included her sitting in her bed alone at the moment, she thought with a swallowed sigh.

  “Would you be free to join me for dinner Thursday evening?” she asked hopefully. “We’ll have a full inn and there’s an event scheduled, so I can’t go far in case anything comes up, but we could eat at Bride Mountain Café, or I could cook. I mean, I have to eat, right?”

  Perhaps it wasn’t the most graceful invitation, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I’d like that. I’ll even treat at the café so you don’t have to cook.”

  “Why don’t we meet here at six-thirty, then? We can leave your car here and walk down to the café.” And she would insist on treating, since it had been her idea, but she saw no reason to argue with him about that just now.

  “Sounds good.”

  “Good night, Paul.”

  “Sleep well, Bonnie.”

  As if she could, she thought, setting her phone on the nightstand and hoping there were no more frantic calls that night. Something told her she would be thinking about Paul long into the wee hours.

  After all her blithe promises to her siblings—and to herself—that she would be cautious, would guard her heart and not invest too much too soon, she was very much afraid she was foolishly falling in love with Paul. She might well have done so the first time she’d collided with him, and had felt a spark jolt between them when he’d helped her up. Yet even after spending these lovely days with him since, even after the most intense, most spectacular lovemaking she’d ever experienced in her life, she still wasn’t sure exactly what they were doing together.

  Did he truly see her as a summer dalliance, a way of entertaining himself during this break from school, like his kayaking and soccer playing and horseback and mountain bike rides? Was he perhaps subconsciously using her to fill his emptiness at the thought of his daughter and her other family leaving him behind? Did he really like her, with an eye toward a possible future? How was a woman supposed to know what a man was thinking without just coming right out and asking? Or was he counting the days until he could take off for China or North Dakota or some beach somewhere? Their discussion about her father had reminded her of all the reasons she had tried so hard to be careful.

  She punched her pillow in frustration. Kinley would probably have no trouble being so bluntly candid; Logan certainly wouldn’t. But she wasn’t sure she was quite as confident as her sister and brother when it came to relationships. Going toe-to-toe with her siblings was very different than setting herself up for heartbreak with a man whose mere touch could make her world spin.

  Paul arrived at the inn Thursday evening to find it a hive of frantic activity. People mingled on the front porch and a huge white tent was set up on the east-side lawn. Everyone seemed to be dressed in business casual style. It didn’t look like a wedding, he mused. Even as he drove into the front parking lot, he was assailed by the barbecue scents wafting from several large portable grills. Men in white aprons and chefs’ hats were flipping what looked to be steaks and burgers while lines of eager diners lined up to be served. He could even see a bar at one side of the tent, with servers pouring wine and beer.

  Because the parking lot was full, he drove around back to park beside Bonnie, figuring she wouldn’t mind since she’d directed him there before. He was a little early, so he thought she might still be upstairs. Just in case, he tapped on her apartment door, but when there was no answer, he moved toward the deck stairs, pulling out his phone in case he needed to text her that he had arrived. Recorded jazz music drifted to him from the party, not overly loud but easy enough to hear from this side of the grounds. He stepped onto the large deck at the same time as Logan, who’d climbed the steps on the opposite side. They exchanged nods of greeting.

  Paul motioned in the direction of the tent, though that side of the inn wasn’t visible from where they stood at the big back doors that led into the dining room. “What’s going on?”

  Logan shrugged. “Some sort of charity fundraiser thing Kinley booked. They have their own people to set up, cater and clear away, so we didn’t have to do anything for this one except provide the grounds.”

  He moved quickly aside when two women hurried out from inside the inn, nearly bumping into him as they rushed toward the party with murmurs of apology. Paul noticed that Logan moved quite agilely despite his slight limp.

  Logan spoke wryly. “Sure will be glad when we get those outside-entrance bathrooms installed. It’ll be a little more trouble for the cleaning staff, but better in the long run than having people running in and out these doors.”

  “The rooms will be beneath this deck, right?”

  Logan nodded. “Two doors, one for men, one for women, each leading into a small lounge area with attached toilet facilities. No showers or anything like that, but wedding parties can change clothes and other people can use the amenities. I mean, they’ll still be welcome to go inside the inn, if they’d prefer, but the extra conveniences will really come in handy.”

  It was the longest conversation he’d ever had with Bonnie’s brother and they were talking about bathrooms, Paul thought with sudden wry amusement. “Were you going inside?”

  Logan nodded and led the way into the dining room. Paul saw that the round tables were covered with white linens and decorated with fresh flower centerpieces, but not otherwise set up for food service, making him assume nothing was scheduled in here until breakfast tomorrow morning.

  “Guess you’re here to see Bonnie?”

  “Yes, we’re having dinner.”

  Logan looked as though there was something he wanted to say, but whatever it was, he kept it to himself. Remembering Bonnie’s comment about her brother being overprotective, Paul thought it was probably just as well Logan had swallowed the words. Saying he had to change a lightbulb in one of the rooms upstairs, Logan moved on, leaving Paul with a quizzical smile.

  He had thought he might find Bonnie in the kitchen, but the immaculate room was empty. She could be upstairs, he thought, or maybe in the office behind the reception desk or in the front parlor with guests. He decided to check the parlor and then text her that she could find him there when she was ready. It seemed as good a place to wait as any.

  He stopped abruptly in the arched doorway to the parlor. This room had been set up for old-fashioned, unplugged social entertainment with couches and chairs arranged for conversation, two game tables at one end of the room, and a tall bookcase filled with board games. Another beautiful chandelier hung from the tall ceiling, and the bay window was covered with lace. Bonnie stood in that window, looking absolutely radiant in the late-day light streaming in from outside as she modeled cheerfully for Cassie, who was fidgeting with a digital camera nearby. Kinley sat on one of the sofas, laughing and offering suggestions for poses.

  Paul was aware of Kinley and his daughter, but he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from Bonnie. She looked…stunning. Young, sexy, vibrant. The bright green dress set off her golden hair, vivid blue eyes and flawless fair complexion. And what it did for her figure…

  He swallowed. Hugging her curves, the dress had tiny cap sleeves and a deep, square neckline that made the most of her cleavage. It pinched in below her bust with a band that made her waist look even tinier than he knew it to be. When she turned as instructed to present the back for Cassie’s camera, he saw that the garment closed at her nape with a decorative button, beneath which a large, triangular cut-out revealed a creamy swath of bare back down to the sewn-in waistband. The dress ended with a sassy little pleat at the back of her knees.

  For the first time since he’d met her, he saw her in heels. Strappy gold sandals did amazing things to her legs that he’d always admired anyway. Mugging for the camera, having not yet noticed h
im in the doorway, she lifted one leg behind her and tossed back her head in a playful, pinup girl pose that sent a wave of hot blood straight to his groin. He pushed his hands casually into his pockets and drew a few deep breaths, glad he was no longer a callow youth who couldn’t control his body—though he had to admit, it was a close call for a few minutes there. Damn, she looked good.

  Suddenly seeming to sense him there, she looked toward the doorway and quickly straightened, her cheeks going a little pink. “Oh. Hi.”

  “Hi,” he said gravely, leaning against the doorjamb. “Am I interrupting?”

  “You’re early.”

  “A little. Hello, Kinley. And, Cassie, you didn’t tell me you’d be here this afternoon.”

  Looking down at her camera screen, Cassie answered distractedly. “It was sort of last-minute. Bonnie said she could take a few minutes if I came right now. Bonnie, these are great. Exactly what I need for my portfolio. Thank you so much.”

  “Are you kidding? I can’t believe I’m getting this beautiful dress just for doing a few fittings for you.”

  “It is a gorgeous dress,” Kinley said, almost enviously. “If it wasn’t five inches too short for me, I’d steal it in a heartbeat. I can’t wait to see your collections in the stores someday soon, Cassie.”

  Cassie, of course, was thrilled by the praise. She beamed. “I hope so. London is such an exciting place to study design.”

  “I’m sure you’re going to have a wonderful time.”

  “I think so, too. I can’t wait to be there with Mike. I’ve missed him so much.”

  Paul managed not to sigh, though he had to admit his daughter’s obvious impatience to move away made him want to.

  “I’m sure you have missed him,” Kinley said sympathetically. “My fiancé travels quite a bit, too, though at least he’s usually in the same country as I am. He’s hoping to travel less once we’re married and do more freelance work from our house here.”

  “You’re engaged?” Cassie looked up eagerly from stashing her camera in its case. “I hadn’t heard.”