by Kim Law
Len had been one of the cameramen when they’d done Texas Dream Home, and given the amount of time he’d spent following Jill around, he’d become friends with all three of them.
“What in the world are you doing here?” Heather asked as he set her on her feet.
She patted his overgrown beard as if she’d missed it before stepping back so he could greet Trenton and Aunt Blu, who’d come up behind her.
“I heard that our Jilly was picking out a wedding dress today,” Len said when he got a chance to answer Heather’s question. He nodded hello to the closest cameraman as he moved farther into the room. “And given the help I assumed she had”—he shot down-the-nose looks at the three of them—“I knew she’d need a voice of reason tossed into the mix.”
Trenton huffed. “I’m her voice of reason.”
“Well, you’re certainly the closest she’s got.” He patted Heather’s shoulder as he spoke—as if to lessen the sting his words might leave—then he nodded respectfully at Blu. “And no offense, Miss Blu, but emotions can run high on a day like today. For everyone. I’ve seen it with all four of my sisters and all my sisters’ wedding parties.” He planted himself in the middle of the couch and crossed his burly arms over his chest. “So I decided that Jilly needed a man’s opinion.”
Heather and Trenton stared down at him in shock at the sudden change in plans—and seating arrangements—then cracked up when Penny stuck a girly drink in his hand.
“No laughing at the dude in the middle of the froufrou dresses,” Len admonished. He then angled his pinky out and tossed his head back for a long pull on the lemonade.
Aunt Blu gave an unheard-of-from-her roll of her eyes and sat down beside Len. “Scoot it over, Big Red. Emotions, my ass. You’re not the only voice of reason in this room today.”
“Is that so?” He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth before jabbing a finger at the assortment of veils piled in front of them. “Any chance you happened to have anything to do with those?”
Aunt Blu huffed out her indignation. “Jill will be gorgeous in a veil.”
“Jill is gorgeous with all that black hair shining,” Len corrected her, and all three of them nodded in agreement. Jill’s hair was fantastic.
But still, brides needed veils.
Penny and another of her employees hurried over as Blu and Len continued their good-natured arguing, placing matching club chairs on either side of the couch, and Heather and Trenton barely had time to settle into their seats before Jill reappeared in gown number two.
“No,” Len said automatically, and there was another round of squealing and greetings.
“Len!” Jill pounced on the big man. Len didn’t live too far away. Only up in Waco. But given the amount of work filling the company’s calendar the last three months, a road trip to see their friend hadn’t been feasible.
Once they’d all settled back down, Jill didn’t even wait for a response from the rest of them. She simply agreed with Len. Though this dress was satin with ruching running the length of the gown, it also had ruffles. Its fitted silhouette outlined Jill’s body exquisitely, but ruffles covered the single shoulder strap and seemed intent on attacking her slender neck.
She tried on the third gown, and the deep V plunged with ruffles.
Number four had a billowing train of cascading ruffles that Heather thought was absolutely to die for. She kept her enthusiasm to herself.
And when Jill came out in the next dress, a sleeveless beaded bodice stopping at the waist and falling into a full ball-gown skirt of ruffled chiffon, Len cursed none too gentlemanly and rose from the couch. “Who in the hell picked these out?” He shot Heather a dark, accusing look. “Not everyone needs to look like they’re stepping out of a fairy tale. This one makes her look like she’s being swallowed from the ground up.”
He moved away from the couch as Heather attempted to argue that the timeless look of the chiffon would go well with an outdoor wedding, but Len pointed a finger at her.
“Don’t move,” he warned. He waved his finger around. “Any of you. It’s my turn now.”
The cameraman Len had greeted upon arrival followed the other man out of the room, camera rolling, while the sound guy, a lighting woman, and a producer hurried along behind them. Ten minutes later, all were back, and Len once again took center stage on the couch.
“Winner,” he said, long before Jill made an appearance.
Heather crossed her arms over her chest as Len had done when he’d first sat down, and stuck out her chin. But then she lowered her arms when Jill emerged from the back room.
“That,” Len began, “is why I’m here.”
Jill looked stunning. The dress was a V-necked chiffon with a crisscrossing bodice that stopped at the waist and flowed gently into a breezy skirt. It had the timelessness of the chiffon, the simple elegance that was Jill, and the beaded belt and shoulder straps added just the right amount of bling.
Penny and the attendant who’d been working with Jill hurried over with crystal bracelets and a matching headband, and another employee appeared and whipped Jill’s straight black hair into a rolled updo that hugged the back of her neck.
A cream and pink bouquet found its way into her hand, someone whisked all the veils out of the room, and at the sight of her friend, tears suddenly seeped from Heather’s eyes.
Jill’s eyes were wet as well. As were Aunt Blu’s and Trenton’s. Even Big Red got a little misty.
No one had to say anything, while Jill simply smiled with her tears.
“Done,” Jill finally spoke, and Len rose to take a bow.
Everyone in the room laughed at Len’s antics, and as he moved to Jill’s side and fawned over her a bit more, Heather found herself wandering through the rest of the store. She loved this boutique. She’d visited it the week Penny had opened its doors, and she was so happy that one of her friends would now get the chance to wear a beautiful creation from here.
She fingered the detail on the sleeve of a display dress and ignored the chatter of the handful of women who’d come in over the last few minutes. A soft ding sounded as she picked up a narrow tiara and held it above her head in front of a mirror. She cast a glance over to find a man and a little boy stepping through the front door. They moved to the counter that housed the costume jewelry, and she watched as the man helped his son pick out a present for his mother.
Joy filled the boy’s face as his small fingers touched the rhinestones of each and every bracelet on display, and Heather found herself thinking about her own dad. He’d taken her shopping for her mother like that when she was a kid.
In fact, he’d taken her to all kinds of places, just him and her. She’d been close to her mother as well. They’d had many similar interests. But she’d been a total daddy’s girl.
Dad and son moved to the register to pay for their purchase, and at the same time, Heather sensed someone at her side. She glanced over to find Len—who winked at her teasingly. His attention then settled on the man and his son, and he leaned in and whispered, “You’d look good with a little one like that.”
Heather didn’t reply. She couldn’t because a lump had lodged in her throat.
Len straightened and returned his voice to normal volume. “Too bad you think I’m too old for you. Maybe I’d give you one. At the least, we could have made that date we had far more interesting.”
She shot the man a droll look. “Don’t even. You know I’d bore you in ten minutes flat.”
They’d gone out one time while filming had been going on back in the spring, but it had been a friends-only evening. They’d set up a double date, using it to convince Jill to go out with a man who’d had his eye on her. A date that, Heather was proud to say, had been the catalyst for Cal finally making a move with Jill.
“I don’t know,” Len mused now. He flicked his blue gaze over Heather’s body, and wicked naughtiness filled his eyes. “I think I might be able to make it ten days if given the shot.”
The words made
her blush. “Behave yourself. You know you just like to flirt.”
“Oh, I do enjoy flirting. But I’ve also been going through a bit of a dry spell lately.” He waggled his brows and stroked his ginger-colored beard. “And since I also know you have a thing for gingers . . .”
Before either of them could utter another word, a woman one rack over whipped around to stare at them. “Ohmygod.” The woman’s eyes went round. “If we’re going to talk about redheaded men, we have to talk about Waylon Peterson.” She looked around the store as if to take in all within earshot, and angled her chin higher so her voice would ring above the others. “Who’s met him? Who’s met Waylon Peterson?”
Len’s brow lifted in question, and Heather shook her head. Then a hand shot up on the opposite side of the room.
“I’ve met him,” the owner of the hand announced. “But not nearly as intimately as I’d like to . . . if you know what I mean.”
The first woman fired back, “Oh honey, everyone knows what you mean.”
“And everyone wants to have that same meeting,” someone else chimed in.
Laughter bounced through the room, and Heather lowered her gaze and maneuvered to a display of bridesmaid dresses. She had no wish to be in the middle of the gossip, and even less desire to be thinking about the man at the center of the conversation.
“Who’s making a move on him this week?” someone asked behind her. “Because you know you have to do it tonight if you want a chance at being this weekend’s fling.”
Heather flipped through the dresses as a chorus of “Mes” rang through the room, and barely held back a groan when Len reappeared at her side.
He leaned in close and whispered, “Have you met this Waylon?”
She didn’t answer. Just kept flipping. But her cheeks outed her. They turned pink once again.
“Really?” Len sounded intrigued as he straightened. “And he’s all that?”
“Oh, he’s all that, all right.” The mocking reply came from Trenton, who suddenly appeared on Heather’s other side. Heather glanced over, but Trenton continued speaking only to Len. “I haven’t met him personally, but I’ve seen him in passing enough times. I can see why the man’s got everyone’s motor running. What I can’t figure out, though, is when this one met him.” She cast her gaze toward Heather, the accusation clear.
“She met him Monday night,” Aunt Blu’s voice replied matter-of-factly, and Heather whirled to find her foster mother now standing behind her. Why was everyone crowding her?
And why were they talking about her as if she weren’t there?
“He came by after you left,” Aunt Blu explained. Trenton had left the cookout early, having had an exhausting weekend finishing up an overdue renovation. “He stopped by the house for a plate of food. Heather had gone for a walk earlier, but ten minutes after Waylon entered the barn, I saw Heather coming out.”
Trenton stared at Heather.
“Wait.” A nearby woman took a step toward them. “Are you saying that you were in the barn with him?”
Heather hadn’t said anything.
The woman put both hands over her mouth, her eyes wide, as if having great respect for Heather’s skills at capturing the man’s attention, and the lady who’d started the whole conversation loudly proclaimed, “That’s it. I’m finding him tonight. Then I’ll be this weekend’s date.”
She wove her way through the displays of dresses, shouting out to someone who was apparently in one of the dressing rooms. She didn’t make it out of earshot, though, before another voice rose from the crowd. “You’d better hope he wins at the tables this weekend, Kara. I hear he’s more ‘giving’ when he wins.”
Heather closed her eyes.
“And I hear the right woman can make him give all night long,” Kara called back.
Kara cackled with laughter before disappearing behind a dressing room door, and Heather tried her best to refocus on the rack of bridesmaid dresses. Jill had chosen the colors for the wedding party several weeks earlier, so now that the wedding dress had been decided on, Heather and Trenton simply had to settle on a style.
But try as she might, she couldn’t push Waylon from her mind. Was he seriously that big of a player?
“I’ll also offer to help burn off those unneeded calories.”
Yep. She’d say he was. He’d certainly been laying it on thick with her.
Rumors aside, she couldn’t help but wonder if he really did head off with a different woman every weekend. Everyone liked to presume that he did, yet she’d not heard anyone come right out and say, “I slept with Waylon this weekend.”
Mostly, though, she wanted to know because, for some reason, she’d had the urge to believe him when he’d implied it wasn’t true.
And what if I said the rumors weren’t true?
Would you want to know what I do with my weekends instead?
She hadn’t answered him at the time, but she had wanted to know. And she found herself wanting to know even more now.
Jill reappeared from the back of the store, once again wearing the jeans and company-logoed pullover she’d arrived in, and Len headed in her direction. The camera and equipment guys were all packing to leave, the gaggle of women who’d been carrying on about Waylon had calmed down, and Aunt Blu’s attention got snagged by a friend waving to her from outside the building.
And all too quickly, Heather found herself standing alone with Trenton. Who—Heather knew—would not let the fact that she’d met Waylon go undiscussed.
Anxiety twisted Heather’s gut as she edged around another rack of dresses. She simultaneously avoided Trenton while zeroing in on the gowns in mint green. Mint green was the color Jill had chosen. It would go perfectly with a backyard wedding.
“Did you hear that he’s buying a house?” A low voice spoke from a couple of displays over. “My cousin Cindy’s best friend’s sister is his real estate agent. She was supposed to keep it on the down-low, but she told her sister, and her sister told Cindy.”
Heather glanced in the direction of the latest conversation. Were they still talking about Waylon?
“Why would he buy a house?” another voice asked. “Doesn’t the apartment in the barn come with the job?”
Definitely Waylon.
“I have no idea,” the first woman continued. “But I hear he’s moving in soon.”
The two women moved off, still talking, and Heather pushed the man from her mind once again. She pulled a full-length, off-the-shoulder dress from the rack and thrust it into Trenton’s hands when her friend made yet another reappearance.
“You promised to tell me when you met him.” Trenton kept her words low enough to carry just between the two of them.
“It was no big deal.” Heather chose a tea-length style next. “And anyway, I’ve barely seen you this week.”
“You’ve had breakfast with me every morning.”
“Yeah, well . . .”
She had no real excuse, and she knew it. The three of them met every morning to go over work details for the coming day. And every day, she’d studiously avoided bringing up her run-in in the barn. Because she knew she’d get this reaction.
“So why did you go to the barn?” Trenton got right to the point.
“I didn’t go to the barn,” Heather corrected. “I went to the backyard. I have a big job starting next week, in case you’ve forgotten.” She shoved another dress at her foster sister, having no clue what that one looked like. “I’m a tad bit nervous about it, so I wandered around the area, thinking about any last-minute changes I might want to make to the plans.”
“And what? The plans are stored in the barn?”
“Stop it,” Heather hissed out. “Quit being a jerk. I was in the backyard—minding my own business—and I heard what I thought were horse hooves. So I was worried the horses had gotten out.”
She’d actually been quite concerned. She’d hurried back to the house for apples in case they were needed to lure the animals back inside, only . . . wh
en she’d gotten to the barn, she’d found both horses locked up tight.
And no one around to have put them there.
“And anyway,” she continued, shoving the odd experience from her mind, “I didn’t expect him to show up at all. Cal had said earlier that he wouldn’t be back until Tuesday.”
Trenton eyed her as if looking for the lie in her words. “Whether you expected him or not, the fact remains that you met Waylon one night, and you’ve been out of sorts ever since.”
Heather didn’t look at her friend. “I am not out of sorts.”
Trenton reached out then, one hand touching Heather’s forearm, and Heather allowed herself to be turned. She faced her foster sister, but said “I’m fine” before Trenton could suggest otherwise.
“Are you really?” Trenton eyed her carefully. “Because you know how you can be.”
Heather nudged out her chin. “It’s been three years since I’ve been that way.”
“And three years before that. And again before that.”
Embarrassment stirred inside her. She couldn’t help it that she fell so fast. It was in her blood.
“I’ve learned my lesson,” she gritted out.
“Have you? Because I know he’s your type.” Trenton looped an arm through Heather’s and leaned in even closer. “I know you’re attracted to him even if you don’t want to admit it,” she said softly. “And I get that. I knew it would be that way the instant I got a good look at him. That’s why I made you promise to stay away from him, Heather. Because you can’t fall for him. And you know that.”
She pulled her arm away and returned to the dresses. “He can’t be all bad or Cal wouldn’t have hired him.”
Why was she defending the guy? She didn’t even know him.
Trenton sighed. “I’m not saying he’s all bad. But he does have some bad in him. He has to or there wouldn’t be so many matching stories about him conning people out of money. So many questions about who and how many he spends his time with. And you know your tendency with guys like that.”