A Proposal at the Wedding

by Gina Wilkins

  “Hooray for freedom,” he quipped, his smile revealing little of his thoughts, though Bonnie searched his face carefully. Was Jenna right?

  Cassie dashed out soon afterward, stopping to hug her dad and Bonnie on the way to the door. “Best shower ever,” she assured Bonnie fervently.

  The inn seemed unusually quiet after Cassie left. Bonnie heard a few footsteps upstairs, and a couple of muted voices drifting from the parlor. She had almost two hours before the guests assembled for the Sunday evening sandwiches.

  “Do you have to rush off?” she asked Paul.

  He shook his head. He was still smiling, but something about his eyes looked different to her. Darker, perhaps, not quite reflecting his smile. “I can stay a little longer.”

  Perhaps he was just tired, or a little melancholy from Jenna’s reminder of the big changes coming in his life. “Would you like to take a walk in the garden? I wouldn’t mind some fresh air.”

  He nodded. “That sounds good.”

  He opened the back door for her, then stood back so she could go out first. A wave of humid heat engulfed her when she stepped out. August had begun with a vengeance, as if to make up for the unseasonably cool and rainy month just past. A bee buzzed past her and she heard the drone of a weed trimmer around the side of the inn, proving that Logan wasn’t letting the heat keep him from his work. She hoped he would remember to stay hydrated, then told herself to stop worrying. Her brother could take care of himself; it was simply old habit for her to fret about his health after the serious illness that had felled him in college. The long-gone tumor in his leg had left him with a slight limp, a determination to stay fit and healthy, and a few trust issues when it came to anyone outside his family, but he didn’t need her hovering over him all these years later.

  The fountain splashed invitingly, but she saw that another couple was already standing beside it, enjoying the fine, cool mist that hung in the air. The couple had checked in earlier that day, explaining that the woman was attending a three-day conference at Virginia Tech and that they had chosen to stay at the inn rather than at a hotel in town so her husband could take advantage of nearby hiking trails while she networked with business associates. Though they seemed nice enough, Bonnie angled away from them, figuring she would visit with them over sandwiches later.

  Paul walked quietly beside her toward the back of the garden where the koi pond would be someday. He seemed to be lost in his thoughts, and she wasn’t quite sure how to draw him out as she was somewhat preoccupied with her own.

  She looked up at him, moistening her lips. “Paul—”

  He looked beyond her with a frown, toward the hiking path that disappeared into the woods. “What was that?”

  She turned just in time to see a flash of white dissolve into the foliage. “I missed it. What did it look like to you?”

  “For a minute I thought someone was watching us, but I guess I was wrong.”

  “I’ll bet it was a white-tailed deer. We do have a lot of them up here. Logan wages a constant battle to keep them from destroying his landscaping.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably what I saw.” With one last glance toward the trail, Paul turned back toward her. “You were going to say something?”

  She pushed her hands into her skirt pockets, toying with her phone, that ever-present reminder of her responsibilities here. “Cassie had a nice shower, didn’t she? She has some very nice friends.”

  It was clear that he could tell the inane comment hadn’t been what she had initially intended to say. He frowned at her for a moment, then shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, she’s always been lucky to have a good group of friends.”

  “They seemed like an energetic crowd. I’m sure they’ve had some fun times together.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He cleared his throat, his smile looking forced. “You looked right at home among them when I arrived. Made me remember that you’re not much older than Cassie and her friends.”

  Bonnie wrinkled her nose, wondering if that was what had been bothering him during their walk. “I’m sure from Jenna’s perspective, anyone over twenty is ancient,” she said, hoping to keep the age thing in perspective. “Just a number, right?”

  “No.” He reached up to squeeze the back of his neck, his expression impossible to read. “It’s more than a number. It’s a stage of life. And you and I—well, we’re at different stages. Hell, I could be a grandfather in the not-so-distant future.”

  Logan had pointed out that same possibility. Her eyes narrowing, Bonnie responded now the same way she had with her brother. “And that matters why?”

  “Just putting it out there. The point is, you’re insanely busy here at the inn, and I figure you’d be better off spending your free time with someone closer to your own age, someone at the same place in life where you are. You know, someone who’s ready to settle down, ready to start fresh with babies and diapers and preschool and all that other stuff I dealt with years ago and that you haven’t had a chance to experience yet.”

  Her hands clenched in her pockets. She could feel her spine stiffening with each word he said. “You think that’s best for me, do you?”

  He nodded, continuing doggedly. “With Cassie’s wedding coming up in a couple of weeks, and school starting back a couple of weeks after that, it’s a hectic time for all of us. Once I’m back at work, I won’t have weekdays off like I do now, and your weekends are booked, so finding time to hang out could be difficult. We said we were just having fun for the summer, and I have. I’ve had a great time. I hope you’ve enjoyed our time together, too. And I hope we can remain friends.”

  “Friends,” she repeated coolly. “Like you are with the other women you’ve dated. Holly and Tim’s sister, and probably a few others.”

  “Well, yeah…” He eyed her warily, seeming to sense something in her attitude he couldn’t quite interpret. Still, he continued determinedly, almost as if he were reciting, “It’s better to end things on friendly terms. We’ll be left with very pleasant memories. I care about you quite a lot, Bonnie, and I hope you’ll smile when you remember the time we spent together, the adventures we crammed into a relatively short time. Maybe we can have coffee or something sometime.”

  He motioned vaguely with one hand. “So, anyway, maybe this wasn’t the ideal time to have this discussion—I mean, I know you still have a lot to do this evening, but I thought it best for me to make sure I haven’t been leading you on, or keeping you from meeting someone closer to your age.”

  “Well, isn’t that oh-so-noble of you?”

  Paul blinked in response to her tone, making her realize he’d never seen her lose her temper. He was very, very close to finding out just what an experience that could be.

  “I’m not implying that you were expecting anything from me,” he assured her quickly. “You’re the one who said you weren’t looking for strings, and I’m not conceited enough to imply that I consider myself an irresistible catch. Like I said, I just thought it best for me to make sure you know that I’m not looking to follow my daughter down the aisle.”

  She wasn’t sure she’d ever been so angry in her entire life. Maybe pain was fueling her temper, but at the moment she was too mad to acknowledge even to herself how badly he had just hurt her. True, she’d wanted to have a serious discussion with him, and she’d been prepared that she might not hear what she hoped from him—but this had not been a dialogue. It had been a condescending monologue that had infuriated her.

  She drew a deep, ragged breath and spoke with icy precision. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for looking out for my best interests. You know, being so much older and wiser than I am, of course.”

  He grimaced. “Uh, Bonnie—”

  “Let me just make something clear to you, Paul,” she said over him. “We will not be friends from this point, though I will be extremely polite and profession
al during your daughter’s wedding festivities. My friends—and I do have a few, despite my busy work life—give me credit for knowing what’s best for myself without their guidance. They have intelligent, adult discussions with me rather than making unilateral decisions that affect me. And they ask me what I want, rather than tell me what I should want!”

  “Look, I—”

  “I swear to God, Paul, you’d better leave now,” she advised him through gritted teeth. “If you say one more condescending word, I might just be tempted to punch you right in the face, if I could reach it.”

  “I can reach him.” With his dog at his side, Logan emerged from the hiking trail just in time to hear the latter part of her threat. Logan glared at Paul while Ninja looked in bewilderment from one tense human to another. “Do I need to punch him, Bon?”

  She whirled on her brother and poked him in the chest with one finger. “No. If I need to punch someone, I’ll handle it myself—even if I have to find a stepladder to do so.”

  Logan nodded, not looking at all surprised. “Yeah, you would. Just letting you know you’ve got backup, if you need it.”

  So grateful for her brother’s endorsement of her self-sufficiency that she’d have thrown her arms around him if Paul hadn’t still been standing there, she tossed her head and glanced over her shoulder at Paul.

  “Please tell your daughter to let us know if there’s anything at all we can do for her during the next two weeks,” she said with the exceedingly courteous professionalism she had so furiously promised him. “Assure her that the staff of Bride Mountain Inn will do everything in our power to make sure her wedding day is everything she wants it to be. I trust you won’t think it ‘best’ for her to change her venue at this late date?”

  “Of course not,” he said impatiently, looking more than a little irritated himself. “Bonnie—”

  “I have to take care of my guests now. I’ll see you at the rehearsal, I’m sure. Goodbye, Paul.”

  He looked frankly stunned as he stared at her for a moment. It was very obvious that this conversation had not gone as he had planned, that she had not reacted the way he’d expected. Had he thought there would be tears? Gratitude that he had so gallantly spared her from future disappointment? He’d been very wrong.

  Without another word, he turned and walked away. He didn’t look back.

  Logan waited until Paul was out of sight before speaking again. “I didn’t catch what set that off, but if you need to talk…”

  Any other time, the reluctant sincerity in his offer might have amused her. As it was, she merely shook her head. “I’ll be okay, but thank you.”

  “You know where to find me.”

  She nodded. She would find him here, at their inn, just as he would find her there if he needed her. Later, when she lay in bed, undoubtedly sleepless and in angry pain, she would comfort herself with the knowledge that though her father in her childhood and the first man she’d loved as an adult might have walked away, her brother and sister and the inn would always be there for her. All in all, she supposed she was actually lucky. She was simply having trouble believing that at the moment.

  Chapter Eleven

  Something had gone very wrong. And Paul was painfully aware that it had all been his fault.

  It had taken him more than a week to reach that brilliant conclusion. Over and over, he had mentally replayed the words he’d said to Bonnie in the garden. He’d made versions of that same speech several times before, and had been on the receiving end a few times, and while those previous encounters had occasionally been awkward, they had usually ended amicably. To be honest, the women with whom he’d previously agreed to be no more than friends had looked somewhat relieved rather than disappointed—an ego hit for him, but undeniably best in the long run. Merely more confirmation that he just wasn’t the settle-down-for-life type. Not from choice, exactly—more by nature, he supposed. It just never seemed to work out.

  He’d tried to make Bonnie understand that. He’d used all the key phrases that had seemed to work before. I hope we can remain friends… I’ve enjoyed our time together… I hope your memories of me make you smile… I care about you.

  Maybe we can have coffee together sometime, he thought with a groan, dropping his head onto his kitchen table.

  “Dad?” Cassie paused in the doorway on the way out of the house. She and Mike, who was staying with his parents until the wedding, were having dinner with her other family that Wednesday evening, then staying late to watch movies with her half brother and sister. This would be the last night before her wedding when they’d be free to hang out with the twins. “Is something wrong?”

  He straightened immediately. “No. Just tired. You have fun tonight, okay?”

  “Are you sure you won’t come with me? You know they’d love to have you join us all for dinner one last time.”

  One last time. The words made his chest clench, though he managed a smile. “Don’t be so dramatic, Cassie, there will be family dinners in the future. We’ll all get together in Dallas next time you and Mike are in the States.”

  She took a step closer to the table, her eyes a bit damp. “I don’t like seeing you unhappy.”

  “I’m not unhappy,” he said—lied—firmly. “I’m going to miss you. I’ll miss all of you. But I’ll be fine. I’ve already signed up for a new rugby team some of my friends are getting together. I haven’t played rugby in a decade and I’ll probably break a hip but it’ll be—”

  “Daddy.” Her hand fell gently on his shoulder. “Why don’t you try talking to her? If you’d just—”

  Now it was his turn to cut in. “We’ve already discussed this, Cassie. We’re not going to talk about Bonnie.”

  All he had told his daughter was that he and Bonnie were no longer seeing each other socially. As far as Cassie knew, Bonnie was the one who’d made that choice, and Paul was content to leave it at that. The thing was, though Cassie had seen him part ways with lady friends in the past, she had never known him to genuinely hurt after those partings. Apparently his uncannily astute daughter could see that he was hurting like hell now.

  Cassie exhaled gustily. “Fine. Just let her go without even trying. End up alone. Is that what you want?”

  He leveled a chiding look at her. “You’re telling me I should get involved with someone just to keep myself from being lonely after you leave? That would be rather selfish of me, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, it would,” she replied evenly. “If that was ­really the reason. But that isn’t why you were seeing Bonnie, was it, Dad? I think you genuinely cared for her, and it had nothing to do with me getting married or Mom and Larry and the kids moving away.”

  “Go have dinner, Cassie. I love you, but this is ­really none of your business.”

  She didn’t take offense, but leaned over to kiss his cheek. “I know. And I love you, too. So talk to her, okay, Dad?”

  He remained silent, and she left with a little sigh of resignation. It wouldn’t be the last he’d hear of it, he figured, but he would remain adamant about not discussing it.

  For one thing, he had a feeling that if he told his daughter exactly what he’d said to Bonnie, Cassie would lose her temper with him, too.

  My friends give me credit for knowing what’s best for myself without their guidance. They have intelligent, adult discussions with me rather than making unilateral decisions that affect me. And they ask me what I want, rather than tell me what I should want!

  He could still hear Bonnie’s words almost as clearly as if she stood in front of him saying them again. And yet it had taken him over a week to really hear what she had said, to process and understand the words.

  He hadn’t asked her what she wanted. He’d simply broken it off with her without warning, and with his lofty—and, as she’d said, condescending—excuses that he didn’t want to k
eep her from finding someone who would offer her marriage and children and all those other things he thought she should want.

  He had been an idiot. An arrogant jackass. She’d have had every right to climb on a stepladder and punch him in the face.

  Yet the worst part about it, he thought as he buried his face in his hands, was that he still wasn’t entirely certain he’d been wrong.

  “You know you don’t have to go out there,” Kinley told Bonnie with a look of sympathy as they stood in the inn’s kitchen early Friday evening. “Dan and Logan and I can handle everything tonight. We can say you aren’t feeling well.”

  Bonnie drew herself up to her full five feet, three inches, her chin held high. “You’ll do no such thing. I have a job to do and I will perform it very well, thank you.”

  Kinley glanced at Dan with a rueful smile, and Bonnie saw him shake his head in what appeared to be bemused admiration. “Way to tell her, Bonnie,” he murmured.

  Cassie’s wedding rehearsal would be starting soon. The inn’s suites were filled with out-of-town guests, and members of the wedding party were already arriving for the rehearsal. Bonnie had already seen and spoken to Cassie and Holly, but she hadn’t yet crossed paths with Paul. That was the ordeal Kinley was trying to spare her by offering this excuse.

  Kinley didn’t know what, exactly, had gone wrong between Bonnie and Paul, but Bonnie had told her that it hadn’t been a pleasant parting. She had at the same time assured her sister that the breakup would not in any way affect her work for Cassie’s wedding.

  In their meetings Bonnie had seen Cassie all but biting her tongue to keep from blurting out comments or questions about what had happened between her dad and Bonnie, but she’d managed to hold them back. Bonnie assumed Paul had laid down very strict orders to his daughter to stay out of this.

  Bonnie would be just as pleasant to Paul as she had been to the others, she promised herself. She didn’t consider herself a particularly skilled actor, but she was determined that no outside observer would have a clue from her behavior that she and Paul were anything more than innkeeper and client. They would not be friends. And from now on, she swore, she would never again get involved with a client or guest. The way she’d hurt for the past twelve days, she wasn’t sure she would ever get involved with anyone again, though she wanted to believe she hadn’t let him shake her quite that badly.