by Zoe York
“We don’t need their approval.”
“Doesn’t change the desire to have it.” She reached out to straighten his tie, not because it needed it, but just for an excuse to touch him. “Like it or not, our families are part of our lives and tonight we’re both running the gauntlet with all of them.”
Myles slid his hands over her hips, pulling her closer. “Partners in crime, remember? We’re in this together. And I really want to kiss you now, but I don’t want to mess up your makeup.”
“Smudge-proof,” she said. “I really wanted to kiss you, too.”
“I love a forward-thinking woman,” he grinned, bending his head to hers.
An edge of stark heat underscored the playful tangle of tongues. Myles let out a groan that rumbled his chest against hers. It was tempting—so tempting—to fall into the kiss and lose themselves. But responsibilities awaited.
Piper stepped back, lips still tingling. “We have places to be.”
“More’s the pity.” His eyes, deep and dark, looked her up and down again. “Because all I really want to do is peel you out of that dress. You can keep the boots. Because I really, really like the boots.”
An image of what he could do to her while she wore nothing but her bitch boots planted itself in her brain and bloomed. Warmth pooled between her thighs. Searching for a release of the tension, she sent him a sassy grin. “If you’re a very good boy, maybe I’ll bring them on the honeymoon.”
“Mmm, the honeymoon. Yes, please.” He angled his head. “Speaking of, given the rapidly approaching nature of our nuptials, are we waiting?”
Well, he was just putting that right out there. She blew out a shaky breath. “If things were different, I’d be dragging you back to the bedroom by your tie already. But given how jam-packed the next week or so is going to be, I don’t know that there’d be the time either of us would prefer to devote to that particular pursuit. So yeah, I think maybe we are.”
“Fair point. And I have to admit, there’s something kind of primal and appealing about the idea of claiming you as my wife.”
Well, God. Piper’s legs went lax, every nerve in her body standing up to scream oh yes at the images that invoked.
Myles smiled, a rather smug curve of lips that told her he knew exactly where her brain was. The bastard. He was going to spend the next ten days torturing them both, and Piper had a feeling it was going to be glorious.
The drive to Tosca didn’t take long, but they were still the last to arrive. Myles’ entire family was booked to stay that night at The Babylon, the new hotel and spa just down the street. The group gathered around Suzanne at a high-top table in the bar must be them. Piper’s own parents, sister, brother-in-law, and—dear God, why had they brought a two-year-old to an engagement dinner?—hovered to one side of the lobby.
“Everybody in their own corners, I suppose,” she observed.
“Can’t blame them after yesterday,” Myles murmured. “Once more into the breach.”
Leah spotted them first. “Here they are!” she crooned, already crossing over, Preston on her hip. “Oh, he is just gorgeous and I can’t believe you’ve been keeping him a secret all this time. Let me see the ring,” she gushed.
Already wishing her sister would take a breath, Piper held out her hand.
“Wow. Just wow.” She shot an impressed look at Myles. “You did good. I’m Leah Cramer, by the way. Baby sis. And this is Preston. Pres, this is going to be your Uncle Myles.”
“Pie,” Preston said, stretching his chubby little arms out for Piper.
Myles chuckled. “I think he’s more interested in dessert.”
“No, I’m Pie.” Piper handed Myles her clutch and reached for her nephew.
“She’s his absolute favorite thing,” Leah said, handing him over.
Preston immediately latched on like a monkey, pressing his sticky cheek to Piper’s. “Pie,” he said happily.
As the adoration was completely mutual, she snuggled him to her while Leah continued the introductions.
“This is my husband, Elliott. And I believe you’ve met our parents, Twyla and Paul.”
Myles shook hands all around, wisely not mentioning the circumstances of their first meeting.
Piper bounced Preston on her hip. “Hey buddy. Can you say hi to Myles?”
He shifted around in Piper’s arms and fixed solemn blue eyes on Myles. Myles bent down a bit to get on Preston’s level, offering his hand. “Hey there. Pie’s my favorite, too.”
Preston giggled and gave Myles a toothy grin. “Pie!” He let go of Piper and leaned toward Myles.
“Oh. Well, apparently that was the magic phrase.” Piper tried to shift him back to a better position before he fell, but Myles plucked him up and settled him on his own hip, her clutch tucked under his arm.
“No worries. We Pie-men must stick together, right Preston?”
The sight of Myles with her nephew perched comfortably in one arm made something in Piper’s chest feel funny. She watched him attempt to teach Preston to fist bump and tried to catch her breath. Leah and Twyla exchanged pleased looks.
“You look good with a kid, big brother.”
The sound of another woman’s voice shook Piper out of her daze.
The Stewart clan had come out of the bar to join them. At the head of the pack was a young woman a few inches taller than Piper, with Myles’ caramel eyes and a ready smile.
“Yeah, well, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Myles said. “Nobody’s in a hurry here.”
“Says the guy getting married in ten days. I’m Skye. And of course, you’re Piper. I’ve heard so much about you!” Skye pulled Piper into a warm hug.
“You have?” Piper cut her eyes toward Myles, wondering what he’d said.
“Of course, this sneaky devil played it off like you weren’t dating during the show. I totally didn’t believe him. Your chemistry was way too good. The show was amazing, by the way.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you came,” Piper said faintly.
“Suzanne, Skye, and I did. It was wonderful. I had no idea my boy could act.” An older version of Skye stepped forward, her dark hair swept up in a classic chignon.
“I could always act,” Myles protested.
She shot him a pitying look. “Not based on the stories you told to cover up your shenanigans growing up. I’m Augusta Stewart, Myles’ mother. Welcome to the family.” She, too, stepped in for a hug, pressing her cheek to Piper’s as she whispered, “I’m sorry about my mother-in-law.”
“Thank you,” Piper murmured.
“And this is my husband, Warrick, and Myles’ brother, Grady,” Augusta said.
No more than handshakes and reserved nods from the other Stewart men. Grady was, as Myles had told her, a younger, carbon copy of their father. They were so unlike Myles with his energy and enthusiasm, it was hard to believe he came from the same family.
Apparently picking up on her surprise, he leaned in to whisper, “We aren’t a demonstrative bunch. It’s not dignified.”
Piper would take his lack of dignity and sense of humor any day.
The hostess hung back as the rest of the introductions were made between the two families. Everyone was cordial and the younger women, at least, seemed determined to be cheerful and make up for the antagonism of the previous day.
Well, better than a cat fight.
“If you’ll come this way, your table is ready.”
Myles relinquished Preston back to his mother and pressed a hand against the small of Piper’s back. “So far, so good.”
Piper found herself between Myles and Skye, across from her sister and brother-in-law. As seating arrangements went, it was far better than being right next to Suzanne. Piper wasn’t quite ready to share space with the other woman. General small talk got them through perusal of the menu, but once their orders were taken, talk inevitably turned to the wedding.
“What are you thinking, Piper?” Skye asked.
Small and intimate, beachside and b
arefoot. Just Myles and me and the minister... But, of course, she wouldn’t get that. It wouldn’t fit Suzanne’s requirement for a societal splash.
“I don’t know. An actual wedding wasn’t what we’d had planned, and I’m not entirely sure what can be pulled together in so little time.”
“I’m already working on that,” Suzanne announced. “Ceremony will be rooftop at The Babylon under the pergola, with reception to follow in the ballroom below. In the event of rain—not currently in the forecast—the ceremony can be moved inside. I’m meeting with the hotel caterers tomorrow. You and Myles have an appointment with Carolanne Wheeler at Sweet Magnolias Bakery to pick a cake tomorrow at twelve-thirty. Brides and Belles is on standby, waiting for measurements for the men. Piper, how many attendants will you have?”
“I...” She trailed off, staring at Suzanne in shock. “You did all that in thirty-six hours?”
“There are still hundreds of details to figure out and finalize. Attendants?”
“I haven’t even asked them yet.” Haven’t even told them I’m getting married. I should get on that.
“For heaven’s sake, get with the program. We have ten days.”
“Gram...” Myles warned.
But she ignored him. “I’ll have itineraries ready for the two of you tomorrow.”
“Itineraries,” Piper repeated.
“I told you we’d unleashed the kraken,” Myles whispered.
“No kidding.”
“I need to see your dress before I meet with the florist, so I have a notion of style.”
“I haven’t got one yet.”
“You don’t have a dress?” Suzanne asked, aghast.
“I didn’t need one to elope.
“Well, we have to find you a dress ASAP,” Leah said.
“I suppose I’ll order something classic and we’ll decide on a style of bouquet once you have the gown.”
“The flowers should be bold,” Myles spoke up. “Something with a lot of pop and color, to match the bride.”
Suzanne wagged a finger at him. “Your job is not to opine, young man. It’s to show up when and where you’re told. Planning a wedding in ten days isn’t for the faint of heart.”
“It was your idea,” he pointed out.
“Not that we’re not grateful,” Piper rushed to add.
“Suzanne, what can we do to help?” Twyla asked.
Conversation shifted back to the other end of the table.
“I feel a little like I’ve been hit by a wrecking ball,” Piper admitted.
“You get used to it.”
“Gram will get the wedding taken care of. I want to know where you’re going on your honeymoon,” Skye said. “Somewhere fabulous, I hope.”
“We haven’t even talked about it yet. We’re in the dead center of cold and flu season at work, and Myles can’t be away from the paper for very long just now.”
He hadn’t said that, but with the deadline for paying back the loan looming, she was certain that would be the case. They’d need to be local to jump through whatever hoops were required to gain access to the trust.
“We’d already made arrangements to get away for the long weekend to elope. So, I figured we’d take the weekend, go somewhere not too far—maybe New Orleans. Then later on this year, when things slow down for both of us at work, we’ll go somewhere awesome for a proper honeymoon.”
“You’d have the flexibility to take a proper honeymoon for as long as you liked if you gave up this ridiculous newspaper and took your proper place at the company,” Warrick said.
Beside her, Myles stiffened.
Piper laid her hand on his thigh in warning. “Myles has brought that newspaper back from the brink and re-invigorated it as a center of the community and a beacon of hope. He’s become a central part of everyone’s life here in Wishful, bringing us the news that matters.”
“News that matters?” Warrick scoffed. “Reports of parades and volunteer work and local land squabbles are hardly earth-shattering events.”
“He recognizes what all good journalists do—that people matter. People are the heart, the truth of any story. Not the sensationalist yellow journalism that seems to be running rampant in the rest of the country. So, regardless of your opinion of his endeavor, Mr. Stewart, let me assure you that he’s goddamned amazing at what he does, and I don’t for a second begrudge delaying a ‘proper’ honeymoon so that he can continue to do it.”
Twyla made a choking noise, but Piper didn’t stop to catch the familiar flash of appalled disappointment on her face. Color crept up Warrick’s face during Piper’s little rant and he opened his mouth to say something, but his mother interrupted.
“You’ve found a woman with spine. Good for you, Myles.” Suzanne nodded in approval, then sat back as their food was served.
“Piper.”
Braced for censure, she looked at Myles. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t sit here and let him—”
He cupped her jaw and pressed his lips softly to hers. A thank you. A promise. And maybe something more.
“How do you feel about Greece?”
“Greece?” she asked dumbly.
“Or the French Riviera. I kind of don’t care where, as long as it involves you and a bikini.”
She cleared her throat, feeling the heat in her own cheeks. “I’m sure we can work something out.”
Chapter 6
“WES, I NEED YOU to follow up on the current status of negotiations between Bill Covey and Lloyd MacIntosh about the Chapel Springs development. Simone, you need to set up an interview with Margot Thayer over at The Babylon. They’re past the soft opening of the spa and I want to do a feature on all the available services, and plans for additional expansion in the works. Take Zach with you, since you haven’t met her yet. Get pics of some of the treatments that’ll make people want to sign up. And since you’re already seeing Omar, make sure you get his column for the Sunday edition.” Myles absently twisted at the Rubik’s cube in his hands as he checked his list.
The conference room door swung open and his grandmother swept in with all the pomp of Queen Elizabeth, sans entourage.
Patty, looking harried, brought up the rear. “Sorry, Myles. I tried to stop her.”
“It’s fine, Patty. What can I do for you, Gram?”
Clearly in no mood for small talk, she launched right in. “I’ve already told you: Be where you’re told, when you’re told. You’ve got a tux fitting at 4:30.”
Myles opened his mouth to say he couldn’t make a 4:30 appointment, then closed it again as his grandmother rolled right on.
“I’ve already met with the caterers this morning. Without a guest list, there’s no way to do a proper sit-down dinner, so it’ll be buffet.” This she said with the faint sneer she reserved for anything she deemed as improper. “I’ll need an estimated number of those expected to attend on the bride’s side.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Simone held up a hand. “I’m sorry. Bride? Tux? Why does it sound like you’re getting married?”
“Because I am. A week from Saturday.”
“To who?” Patty asked, agape.
“Piper Parish.”
“Seriously?” Wes goggled at him.
“Yes, yes, and there’s still so much to do,” Gram said. “There’s no florist in this town. How can there be no florist?”
“Well, there used to be, but nobody was around to take over after Francine passed about six years ago because her protégé, Wynne Montgomery, moved off to New Orleans,” Patty said.
Gram waved that away. “I’ve got calls in to Whitley’s and Martha Haverford. And I’ve still got to find a photographer. I haven’t been able to reach the one listed here.”
“That’s because he’s been sitting in a meeting with me all morning,” Myles said. “Zach, you busy next Saturday?”
“Nothing I can’t rearrange.”
Myles turned back to his grandmother. “There. Photographer. Done.”
“Honestly
, Myles. As if it’s that simple. Young man, I’ll need to schedule an appointment as soon as possible to go over your portfolio to see if you meet with our expectations.”
“I can make time this afternoon, but—” Zach began.
“Excellent. See that you do. Myles will give you my contact information.”
“Uh, okay.”
Myles mouthed a Sorry as Gram opened her purse and pulled out two folders. “Here’s the current itinerary. Please pass a copy to Piper when you see her at the cake tasting. You do remember you’re due at the bakery for the cake tasting in twenty minutes?”
“Yes ma’am. I remember.”
Her cell phone rang. She whipped it out of her purse and answered. “Yes Elaine. No, I’m glad you got back to me. My grandson is getting married.” Gram tipped the phone away from her mouth. “Four-thirty,” she hissed, before walking out as quickly as she’d come.
Myles’ entire staff stared at him. “So, I’m getting married,” he said.
“And we’re just hearing about this now, why?” Patty asked.
“You wouldn’t have been hearing about it at all, until after the fact, if Piper and I had had our way, but our families threw a fit when they found out we were eloping.”
“You and Piper. Wow.” Zach crossed his arms. “Didn’t call that.”
“The unsung romance from White Christmas. We skated under the radar thanks to all the drama with Tyler and Brody.”
“You need engagement pictures?”
“I’m sure Gram will say we do. I’ll touch base with Piper and see when we can squeeze them in. And listen, please don’t take offense at her. She’s like a five-star general leading a campaign when she gets into event planning mode.”
“I see now where you get it,” he said.
“Get what?”
“Your style of getting things done.”
Before Myles could think of a reply to that, Wes began to hum “The Wedding March”.
Piper walked into the conference room, attention still down the hall. “Why do I get the sense that if the President appointed her a cabinet member, she’d manage to straighten out everything wrong with the government inside a month?”