“The Pride and Prejudice room wasn’t available?”
“I didn’t ask. And please, do not compare me to Mr. Darcy.”
“Does it happen too much or do you dislike falling short?”
He held in a smile. “You’re very hard on me.”
“I think you’ve earned it, but as it’s obviously too much for you, I’ll stop now.”
“You’re so generous.”
“I know.” She sighed. “It’s a burden.” She leaned toward him. “What do you know about our town?”
“This one?” He looked around at the restaurant. “It caters to weddings, which seems strange. But from the little I’ve read, it’s a wedding destination town.”
“It is. In the 1950s, the town was dying. Seriously, there was no industry and people were leaving. The man who owned the main bank, a man with seven daughters, by the way, knew that if the town died, he would lose everything, so he decided to take a really big gamble. He started telling a story about how the town was founded. That during the Gold Rush, a stagecoach full of mail-order brides, destined for the gold fields, was stranded in town. By the time the parts arrived to fix their stagecoach, they’d all fallen madly in love and made their homes here. Everyone liked the story, the name of the town was changed and the rest is history.”
He’d heard a few things about the town’s past, but hadn’t paid much attention. “None of it is real? He made up the past completely?”
“Every word. A couple of big name stars got married here and ever since, we’ve been a wedding destination town. There’s a sleep center outside of town and a handful of businesses that don’t support the wedding industry, but the rest of us live in service of brides.”
“You know there is generally a groom when there’s a marriage.”
She waved her hand. “No one cares about him. It’s the bride’s day. Oh, you could do theme weddings at Battenberg Park. Something with a Pride and Prejudice flair.”
He groaned. “Stop, I beg you. Why are American women mesmerized with that book?”
“It’s not the book.”
“You’re right, of course. It’s Mr. Darcy. How I dislike that man. I had several meetings with a production company in Los Angeles and all the women were obsessed with him. I doubt Jane Austen knew what she was creating.”
“Probably not and I would guess that’s for the best.” She lowered her voice. “I suspect our obsession, as you call it, isn’t proper.”
She was delightful, Ulrich thought. Bright, funny, sexy as hell. There was a vitality he found appealing. Violet Lund was so much more than he’d expected. Accusing her of stealing might have been the smartest thing he’d ever done.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CAROL WAITED UNTIL the night staff arrived to pack up for the day. She’d already inventoried the delivery of marionberry leaf-eater biscuits that had arrived. They were ridiculously expensive, but Millie loved them, so they were ordered. If the giraffe didn’t have friends at the moment, she should at least have a happy tummy.
After turning off her computer, Carol got into her car and headed home. The late afternoon was perfect—warm and sunny. It would cool down that evening and by dawn it would be (relatively) cold—fall had arrived in the desert. To her mind, it was one of the most beautiful seasons, not that she had many complaints about the weather in Happily Inc. Yes, summer could be a little toasty, but it was a small price to pay for how great it was the rest of the year.
She drove along the road, only to slow when she saw a familiar man walking a happy, tail-wagging beagle. The man had a way about him, she thought with resignation as he approached the car.
“The cows settled for the night?” he asked.
“They are. Want a ride home?”
“It defeats the purpose of taking my loaner dog for a walk.”
“Is that a no?”
“Just an observation.”
He got in, then patted his lap. Sophie jumped in and scrambled up on him so that she could see out the front windshield. Mathias snapped his seat belt in place, put one protective arm around the dog and smiled at Carol.
“We’re ready.”
The smile hit her like a hoof to the belly with an uncomfortable combination of surprise and impact. No, no, no, she told herself firmly. Thinking Mathias was hunky was one thing—it was more of an intellectual exercise—like appreciating great art. But going further—stepping into that crazy I want him world was not allowed. Not only would it be a complete disaster, she would have to deal with the aftermath for the rest of her life. They were neighbors. She could see his house from her house. The town was small, their lives entwined and no. Just plain no.
She continued down the road, all the while explaining to her wayward emotions that being stupid wasn’t an option. After a couple of minutes, she realized her normally highly verbal passenger hadn’t said a word.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She glanced at him. “There’s something. Are you not feeling well?”
“I’m fine. Just crap at the studio. I’ve been working on a project and it’s not going well. The last couple of days have been a challenge.”
“What does that mean? I’m the least artistic person on the planet so I have no frame of reference.”
“I can see what I want to create in my head but I can’t make it happen.”
“In glass?”
“Yes.”
“So not dishes.”
“No.” He shifted Sophie so she was leaning against him. “However, it is glass, so when I screw up, I can smash it to bits. I’ve been doing a lot of that.”
“While we lesser mortals have to live with our mistakes.”
“It’s good to be me.”
She pulled into his driveway. Mathias turned to her.
“Want to come in for a drink, maybe stay for dinner?”
Before she could express surprise, he added, “I’d like the company.”
Meaning what? He wanted to be with her or he didn’t want to be alone? Why were men so complicated?
“Um, sure.” She turned off the engine and got her bag, then followed him around to the back door. He pushed it open. Sophie led the way inside, then waited for her leash to be unsnapped. She made a beeline for the sofa in the family room, jumped up and settled right in the middle.
“I see you’ve made it clear who’s in charge,” Carol murmured as she set her bag on the end table.
“Like you’d make her sleep on the floor.”
“Probably not. She seems really comfortable. You two must be getting along.”
“She’s not so bad.” As they spoke, he walked into the kitchen and pulled out a blender. “Margaritas okay?”
She’d been thinking more of a glass of wine, but sure. “Sounds good.”
She watched as he poured ingredients into the blender, then hit the switch. When the mixture resembled a thick, icy temptation, he filled a good-sized glass and handed it to her, then got a beer out of the refrigerator for himself.
“You didn’t have to do this for me,” she said.
“It was easy.”
They settled on opposite sides of Sophie. Carol sipped her drink and found it went down way too easily. Oh, well—her house wasn’t all that far away. If she overindulged, she would simply walk home and retrieve her car in the morning.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “You seem, I don’t know, restless, I guess.” A thought occurred that stuck her like a pin, but still forced her to say, “Is the sexy bridesmaid pool too small these days?”
“I’m giving up bridesmaids.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not. But I haven’t been looking lately.”
“Why not?” Because as much as she would want hi
s decision to be about her, she knew it wasn’t.
“Like I said, I’m working on something and it’s not coming out right. I’m frustrated by that. I can see it in my head and when I’m creating it, for a second, I know it’s okay. Then it all falls apart.”
“I have no idea what it’s like to be talented,” she admitted. “I can offer sympathy, but no real course of action. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re nice to listen.”
Nice? She held in a sigh. That was her. The nice girl. Not special, not dangerous, just pleasant. She was like having oatmeal for breakfast. A sensible choice but hardly one that got your blood racing.
“Tell me about Millie,” he said before taking a long swallow of his beer. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s healthy, but still lonely.”
“And the fund?”
She sighed. “Growing slowly. The donation cans I’ve placed around town fill up steadily, but they’re not going to get us there. My dad and uncle’s donation is great, but there’s still a long way to go. I’ve been researching different ways to raise money that get me more than a car wash or bake sale. I need to figure out some kind of fund-raiser.”
“Your goal is half a million dollars?”
He sounded more curious than appalled, which she appreciated. A couple of people had expressed amazement that she would ever consider “wasting” that much on a few giraffes.
“Yes. Some of that covers purchasing the other animals, plus transportation and the new barns.”
“That has to be complicated. Do you call UPS?”
“Actually FedEx has a wild animal division who does this kind of thing all the time.”
He stared at her. “Moves giraffes?”
“Other animals, too. How do you think zoos do their animal exchanges?”
“In the back of a pickup in the dark of night?”
She laughed. “Nope. They’re delivered.”
“Nice. Okay, so we have the purchase price, transportation, the barns. You’re going to need more giraffe chow.”
“We are. The plans for the barn are already approved. The structure’s pretty simple, so once we have the money, it will only take a few weeks to build. The different giraffes will have to be kept separate as they get to know each other. Just because they’re giraffes doesn’t mean they’re going to instinctively bond.”
“Still no boy giraffe on the horizon?”
“Not at the moment. If I get the herd established and the girls are happy, and there’s extra money, then I’ll look around for a male. Before I did that, I’d have to get the girls on birth control. We’d want them to breed, but on our terms, not theirs.”
He laughed. “Giraffe birth control? I don’t want to know what that entails.”
“I’ll admit it’s not my area of expertise, but I can do the research.”
He finished his beer, collected her half-empty glass and his bottle, went into the kitchen and freshened both, then returned to the sofa.
“What if your dad and uncle had settled somewhere else? You might not have Millie at all.”
She’d never thought of that but he was right. Happily Inc had been very welcoming to the animal preserve. “I’m glad we could be here for her.”
“She’s glad, too.” He studied her.
“What?”
“I’m picturing you in South Africa. You’d look good there. I’m less sure Violet would fit in.”
Carol told herself he hadn’t actually complimented her and not to read too much into his words.
“Violet would think of reasons why she had to go back home, during our summers, while I was looking for excuses to stay. I loved the animals, the work, the people. I learned a lot and always had an interesting topic for the ‘what I did on my summer vacation’ essay. I hated going back to New York for the school year.”
“I can’t see you living in the city.”
“I wasn’t very good at it. We were close to Central Park, so that helped. I could be outside and pretend I was somewhere else.”
“By the time you were fifteen, you knew you wanted to work with animals?”
“I did. When I was around that age, my dad and uncle inherited enough money to buy the landfill here. They’d been talking about wanting to do something different with waste management and recycling and they finally had the opportunity. My dad also wanted an animal preserve, which is where I came in.”
“Where did he get the animals?”
“From all over. A few came from other private preserves that had overpopulation issues. Millie’s owner died and no one wanted her. That kind of thing. It’s shockingly easy to find animals like ours. Most people aren’t the least bit able to care for them, but my dad and uncle know what they’re doing.”
“As do you.”
“Thank you.”
They spent the next couple of hours talking about the animal preserve and town and what it was like to have a steady flow of wedding parties to deal with every weekend. She wasn’t sure how many margaritas she drank or how many beers he’d had and the chips and dip he’d put out didn’t do much to counteract the alcohol. It got dark outside and he flipped on a couple of lamps.
“I hope things work out for Millie,” he said. “Animals are better than people. With them you know what you’re getting. Put a lion and a gazelle in the same space and the outcome is clear. Humans are different. They play games.”
“Okay. That was an interesting transition. Want to explain it?”
“No. It’s nothing. Just some stuff happening with my brother. It’s different now, you know. Not like it was.”
“That would be one of the definitions of different.” She stared at him, trying to figure out why he was acting so unlike himself. “Is this your third beer of the day?”
He held up the bottle. “Yup. Of course there were the couple of shots of tequila I had earlier. Like I said, a few bad nights, followed by bad days have an effect on a guy.”
She angled toward him. “Mathias, what’s going on?”
“A lot of crap. People who are supposed to love you betray you. Did you know that? You should be careful.”
Huh? “Are we talking about women? Do you mean an old girlfriend?”
“What? No. I was thinking about my dad. He’s a real bastard. And my mom. She’s the saint who loves him more than anyone. Isn’t that always the way? When you see male genius, there’s probably a good woman in the background. History never remembers her. Only with him, we knew what we were getting, but with her...”
He shook his head. “He cheated on her and she forgave him. He ignores her for days at a time and she’s fine with it. Why does she do that? Why doesn’t she demand more? Only she wouldn’t. She tells us to be patient, too. To understand. And then there’s Ronan. With him, what I understand is—”
He took a couple of long swallows. “Hell, it doesn’t matter.”
She set down her margarita and slid onto the coffee table so she could sit facing him. “Now you’re starting to worry me.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Only a little. Okay, a lot. Probably because I haven’t eaten today.”
She stared into his dark eyes. Funny how until now she’d always seen the front he wore so comfortably. She’d never gotten that his father had somehow damaged him. That he wasn’t as perfect or confident as he wanted everyone to believe. He was just a regular guy, trying to get through the day. Only this day had turned out to be harder than most and she had no idea why.
“How can I help?” she asked.
His expression sharpened and eyes darkened with an emotion she couldn’t read.
“Don’t go there,” he warned her. “Trust me, you won’t like it.”
“I should get you someth
ing to eat. You’ll feel better.”
“That won’t help at all.”
She ignored that and stood. He rose as well—to get out of her way, she thought. Or maybe to stop her. What she didn’t expect was for him to pull her hard against him and kiss her as if she were the one thing he’d been waiting for. Which was totally ridiculous and not the least bit relevant. Not when his lips were hot and demanding against hers and every part of her began to cheer.
* * *
VIOLET WAS MORE relaxed than she’d expected. Ulrich was actually a nice guy, not to mention easy on the eyes. He handed her one of the menus and they discussed the selections. At first she wasn’t sure why he seemed to be so very interested in her choices, but when their server came by to take their order, Ulrich surprised her by ordering for her.
“The lady will have the house salad,” he began.
It was all she could do not to sigh. The lady will have... She knew it was just the accent, but still, the words sounded so sexy. Plus, being taken care of like that was sweet.
“We’d like some time between the courses,” he added when he was finished.
“Of course.” The server collected the menus and left.
Ulrich picked up his Scotch. “How did you get into the button business?”
“It was that fateful summer in England,” she admitted. “Hanging out in your attic. Your grandmother showed me some old clothes and told me I could pick out something to take home as a souvenir. I couldn’t decide, then I found a box of old buttons. I asked for those. Your grandmother sent me home with three boxes. I was in heaven.”
She laughed. “I know it sounds crazy, but I really enjoyed sorting them and I started to do some research. A friend’s mom saw some of them and asked to buy a set for a dress. That was exciting. I was living in New York so I went to all the antique shops I could and looked for buttons. For a while I thought about going to design school and while I was touring one, I talked to someone who told me there was a whole button market. One thing led to another and here I am.”
“Running a button empire.”
“If only.” She grinned. “I do enjoy it. I also do some tailoring and custom work for wedding parties. I can modify a wedding gown or the bridesmaid dresses. A few months ago, I worked on a wedding set in a computer game world. It was great fun. I found these amazing buttons for the dress.”
Second Chance Girl--A Modern Fairy Tale Romance Page 9