by Deb Kastner
“What he said,” she agreed, prompting Matthew to narrow his gaze on her.
“The pastor is waiting for us in the sanctuary. He has officiated literally hundreds of weddings since he was ordained and is happy to guide us through the motions. We don’t need a wedding planner for that,” Matthew informed Brady briskly.
“Afterwards, at the rehearsal dinner, we can plan our work and work our plan,” Riley added, trying to keep her tone upbeat.
Brady looked from Matthew to Riley, his expression still grim but a note of hope gleaming from his blue eyes.
“Do you think we can pull this off?”
“I know so,” Riley said. “Please assure Chelsea that we’ve got it in our capable hands. You can both depend on us to get the job done. You just worry about taking care of each other.”
“The wedding is set for what? At five o’clock tomorrow afternoon?” Matthew asked. “That gives us twenty-four hours to make it happen. And we will.”
The strength of Matthew’s statement almost convinced Riley he could wave a magic wand over this disaster and—POOF—everything would turn out perfectly.
Of course, in reality, Riley knew it was going to be much, much more difficult than that.
She was grateful for how Matthew’s confidence affected Brady, who straightened his shoulders and set off to let his bride-to-be know that the cavalry, in the form of their very own wedding party and headed by the Best Man and the Maid of Honor, had arrived, bugles blaring.
A thought occurred to Riley and she touched Matthew’s elbow to gain his attention.
“I think our first hurdle is much closer than we anticipated.”
He lifted his eyebrows and his gaze darkened. “Meaning?”
“Do you have any idea where the rehearsal dinner is supposed to be? Chelsea said it was supposed to be a big surprise and we’d find out after the rehearsal. But of course, that was before. . .”
“Not a clue. Let me pull Brady aside and ask him. Presumably they have reservations somewhere.”
Riley groaned. “I have a feeling this is going to go downhill very fast. If the rehearsal dinner is planned for where I think it might be planned, we are going to have to come up with a Plan B lickety split. But Matthew,” she said, stretching up on tiptoe so he could hear her soft suggestion. “Don’t let Chelsea hear what you’re asking Brady. I don’t want her any more stressed than she already is.”
His lips quirked in annoyance. “Give me some credit here. I’m not totally heartless.”
No, Riley thought snarkily. You just attack complete strangers for no apparent reason.
She watched as Matthew pulled Brady aside and whispered something in his ear. Brady’s eyes widened and then he shook his head. Matthew frowned.
Nothing, but nothing, was working in their favor.
“It’s a no-go,” Matthew said as he returned to Riley’s side.
“Yeah, I gathered that much. Now tell me something I don’t know.”
“The rehearsal dinner was supposed to be at this swanky, upscale restaurant in downtown Denver,” he said, then shook his head as if he didn’t understand a word of what he’d just said. “Allie was supposed to rent a couple of those large limousine SUVs to take us there. That’s nixed as well, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
He snorted. “Frankly, I don’t get it. I know Brady is head-over-boots in love with Chelsea, but swanky restaurants aren’t his style at all, and it appears they spent a boatload of money on all this—money that went down the tank with Allie’s business. I don’t know why they would plan something like that, anyway. I have to say I’m surprised Chelsea didn’t take Brady’s wishes into consideration.”
“Whatever makes Chelsea happy makes Brady happy,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, but a high-end restaurant?”
“Sylvestre’s,” Riley replied immediately. “It’s been a fantasy of Chelsea’s since she was a little girl in boarding school. I imagine Brady was just trying to give his bride the wedding of her dreams. You can’t fault him for loving her enough to want her to have everything she’s ever wanted.”
“I see,” he said, sounding as if he really didn’t. He rubbed a palm across his darkly-stubbled jaw. “Well, unfortunately, that particular road is beyond repair. Bridge out.”
“Do you think? I could call Sylvestre’s and confirm our reservations, as well as the limo company. Surely they must have something on their books. I just have to sound like I’m in charge.”
Matthew huffed. “You could, but you’d be wasting your time. Brady said that everything Allie did is null and void. She burned all of her bridges in a major way when she couldn’t pay for everything.”
“But didn’t Chelsea prepay?”
Matthew’s gaze locked on hers. “Exactly what I was thinking. Whatever money Chelsea had saved for her wedding is long gone.”
Riley suddenly felt as if her chest was full of thick, muddy quicksand. They were sinking fast.
“All right,” he said. “What’s our Plan B?”
He actually stared at her as if she had a Plan B.
“I have no idea. We’ve got to come up with something fast.”
“Fast. Exactly.”
“Come again?”
“Fast food. We can set up a few tables here in the fellowship hall and order pizzas. It’ll be on me. That’s the least I can do for my best friend. What do you think?”
“I think it’s brilliant. Truthfully, from the look of these folks, they’d probably be more comfortable with pizza and soda than they would all spiffed up at a fancy restaurant, anyway.”
“Definitely,” he agreed. “I’ll call Cal’s Pizza now and set up a delivery.”
“Do you want to pass the hat to pay for it?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got this. We’ll need the hat passing for other things. Why don’t you get everyone headed in the right direction and I’ll catch up with you.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Riley called, to get everyone’s attention. “If you’ll all follow me to the sanctuary, Father James is waiting to guide us through a quick run-through of what will be happening tomorrow.”
Brady pulled Chelsea to her feet and held her tightly around the waist, whispering encouragement in her ear as she regained her composure.
Riley slipped her hand under Chelsea’s arm to support her on the other side.
“Did Matthew tell you? We’re going to make this happen. I promise.” Riley mentally crossed her fingers and shot a quick, desperate prayer heavenward.
“No matter what, babe, we’re getting married tomorrow,” Brady said, his tone strong and determined. “If it’s just us and the wedding party with no flowers and frills, then that’s what it is. The important thing to remember is that at this time tomorrow, we’ll be husband and wife.”
Brady had a point. All they really needed was a priest and witnesses. Everything else was insignificant compared to joining their lives together before God.
Chelsea wiped her eyes with the handkerchief Brady handed her and nodded, then hiccupped due to having hyperventilated.
“I know,” she said, her voice cracking. “You’re right, of course. It’s just that--”
“That every bride dreams of her perfect wedding day,” Riley finished for her. Riley was grateful for what Brady was trying to do, offering Chelsea his full support, but he was a guy, with a guy’s mentality. Storm through the wedding and get to the honeymoon, where he could be alone with his sweetheart. Brady was a wrangler. Details weren’t his forte. He was just along for the ride.
But details? Those were well within Riley’s skill set. Or at least they had been, until the boss’s son at her old job in California had—
No. She didn’t have the time or energy to go there now. It was time to run through the who-did-what-when.
Thankfully, the rehearsal went off without a hitch. The six-year-old ring bearer and three-year-old flower girl, one of the bridesmaid’s children, were adorable. Riley had no doubt the
y would steal the show.
Riley managed to walk the length of the aisle without stumbling, which she counted as a win. Tomorrow, when she was dressed in a long gown and high heels, would be considerably more challenging.
Chelsea settled down the moment she met Brady’s loving, encouraging gaze. He held her gaze and held out his hand to her. She gave him a wavering smile and clutched at her father’s arm as he escorted her up the aisle to her groom-to-be.
The only one appearing not to be enjoying himself was Matthew. He kept shifting from one booted foot to the other, beads of sweat popping out on his forehead underneath the brim of his hat. Most telling as to his state of mind was the way he kept pulling at the collar of the black cotton t-shirt hugging his muscular frame, as if it was suddenly a size too small.
Riley’s lips quirked in amusement. Brady ought to be the one panicking right about now, but he looked eager. It was clear the ceremony couldn’t come too soon for him. His gaze never left Chelsea’s face.
Only Matthew appeared disconcerted by the whole mock ceremony. Apparently, weddings weren’t his thing.
She wasn’t able to confirm her theory until Matthew was escorting Riley down the aisle at the end of the rehearsal.
Her first observation was definitely true. The man was well-built. His bicep quivered under her palm and she couldn’t stop herself from exploring the curve of his arm in more depth, appreciating the muscles and planes.
“You don’t like weddings?” she whispered up at him as they walked.
“As a general rule, no. Especially if I have to be in the wedding. If it wasn’t Brady. . .” He let his sentence trail away unfinished.
“You looked like you were choking up there.”
“I was just thinking about having to wear a bow tie tomorrow. Unpleasant memories, you know?” He reached for his collar with his free hand and slid a finger under the material, swallowing so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed.
Bow tie.
A memory began swirling through Riley’s mind.
Was it a memory?
Perhaps she had seen a photograph that was prompting the sudden picture in her mind.
Either way, she finally knew where she’d met Matthew Wilde before.
“You’re him,” she said.
“Hmm?”
“Bow tie boy. The rascally ring bearer at my Auntie Heather’s wedding twenty-some-odd years ago. I must have been about three years old.”
His gaze narrowed and he nodded briskly.
“Is that why you don’t like weddings?”
He shrugged and his bicep tightened.
“Is that why you don’t like me?”
She vaguely remembered that the little boy hadn’t overly liked her. He’d stuck his tongue out at her and she’d stomped on his foot. But that explanation seemed awfully childish and immature. Surely there was more to it than that. Or maybe she was wrong altogether.
They’d cleared the sanctuary by then and Matthew jerked his arm away from hers.
His gaze narrowed on her once more, spewing sparks from his blue eyes.
“Are you kidding me right now?” he growled.
Well, kind of. But since she didn’t have anything else to go off of besides that long-ago wedding, what else was she supposed to think?
“Why don’t you just spit it out?” she suggested in a low hiss. In unspoken agreement, the two of them moved away from the group gathering just outside the entrance to the sanctuary.
Neither of them wanted to air this—whatever this was—in a public venue.
“You’re just going to stand there and pretend you know nothing?” he demanded.
“I don’t know anything,” she whispered harshly, thoroughly exasperated. “The last time I saw you, I was three years old. Please. Enlighten me.” If she sounded snarky, it was his doing.
Because, really.
“You stole my land from me.”
“I did what?”
So, this was all a big mix-up after all. He’d heard her last name and had made assumptions.
Erroneous assumptions.
“You have the wrong person. I live and work in California.”
Which was true, or at least it had been. At this point, she wasn’t sure where she lived, or what she was going to do. She had no job to go back to. All the way over on the flight from Los Angeles to Denver, she’d been wondering what she would do upon returning to her hometown, Carver Creek, Colorado. She’d been praying about the possibility of attempting to reconcile with her brother, whom she hadn’t spoken to in ten years, but she didn’t have any clear direction on that issue yet.
One problem of many, and the day wasn’t even over yet.
And she definitely didn’t own any land.
“No, I don’t think so,” he said, thoughtfully running a hand over his jaw. “Your Aunt Heather married my Uncle Travis.”
“Right. Ring bearer, flower girl. I remember that part, or at least I’ve seen photographs of it. But what does that have to do with you or your land?”
Matthew removed his hat by the crown and plunged his fingers into his thick dark brown hair, leaving messy peaks which he immediately covered with his cowboy hat. He turned away from her, staring silently out a large glass window. It was several moments before he spoke.
“You want to know what happened? Ask your father,” he rasped.
“I can’t do that.”
After Mama had passed on from cancer, Daddy had always treated Riley like a little girl, even when she was grown and living on her own.
But there was another reason she couldn’t turn to her father for answers to this dilemma.
“Daddy died two years ago.”
Chapter Two
SINCERELY
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Matthew said, even though in truth he wasn’t sorry at all. Riley’s father, slick-talking lawyer Donovan Weaver, had taken everything away from him and his family.
Riley tilted her head and regarded him steadily. “Is that the best you can do? You don’t sound very sincere.”
He shrugged. He had nothing to apologize for.
His Uncle Travis had inherited the Weaver holdings in Carver Creek when Matthew’s parents had died in a car accident, but Travis had been a man of the land and not book smart, having dropped out of school after eighth grade and never receiving his high school diploma. He had no ambitions beyond running his ranch and raising a family, neither one of which was in the cards for him.
How could she not realize the implications of what had been done all those years ago?
Her gaze was blank. Either she was the best actress Matthew had ever seen or else she really was in the dark about what her father had done. Was that even possible?
“If I recall correctly, I was three years old at the time of the wedding. I don’t remember much of anything that far back,” she said, her mouth screwed up in concentration. Her words could have come out snarky, but instead she sounded as if she really did want to figure out what he was talking about.
Matthew’s gaze dropped to where she delicately chewed on her lush bottom lip, with just the hint of straight white teeth exposed. If she meant to distract him, that was a good way to do it. Covered with just the hint of pink gloss, her lips were downright kissable.
Matthew scoffed inwardly and brought his mind back to the present, annoyed at himself for his unconscious but very real male reaction to a pretty woman.
Riley wasn’t just any woman. It figured that the obnoxious three-year-old Weaver girl he remembered from his Uncle’s wedding had turned out to be such a striking beauty.
“Are you saying you never questioned why your family’s landholdings doubled after your aunt’s divorce from my uncle? It had to have come from somewhere.”
“What land?”
“My land,” he growled. “Or at least, the ranch that was supposed to be passed down to me when I reached adulthood. That all changed when your dad stepped in.”
Her lips curved into a frown.
“What did Daddy do?”
“Made it a little too easy on Travis to divorce Heather. He put pressure on Heather and downright lied to Travis. As a result, my uncle believed Heather when she said she wanted a quiet and easy divorce.
“It was all done quiet and easy, all right. And fast. Uncle Travis signed the divorce papers without the benefit of a lawyer, and without realizing he was literally signing his life away. With one simple scribbled signature, Travis handed over to the Weavers the Wilde’s land, which had been in the family for nearly two centuries.”
Riley’s face flushed under his scrutiny.
“Oh, my,” she breathed, then frowned. “I can’t believe that of him. My father was a hard taskmaster at times, but even so, how can you stand there and accuse him of--”
“We have tables to set up,” he barked, interrupting her mid-sentence before he decided to wring her pretty little neck. It wasn’t her fault she’d been kept totally in the dark.
To distract himself, he pulled his cell phone from his back pocket and checked the time.
“The pizza should be here shortly,” he said. “I ordered a bunch of two-liter sodas and several orders of Buffalo chicken wings and breadsticks, as well. It’s not Sylvestre’s but no one will leave hungry.”
“Let me go in in halves with you,” she said, apparently following his lead and turning her attention to the wedding. “My purse is in the fellowship hall. I don’t know how much cash I have on me, but I can always run to a nearby ATM and pull out some extra.”
He snorted and waved her away. “Already bought and paid for. Don’t worry about it.”
Pizza for nearly twenty people had cost a good chunk of change, which he’d had to put on his credit card. With his wrangler’s salary, it would probably take a while to pay off, but then again, he received room and board from the Bar T Ranch where he worked, so he would be able to use most of his wages to pay it down.
“Well.” She hesitated. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
He was a proud man and his cash flow, or lack of it, was none of Riley’s business. Besides, it was the least he could do for his best friend. Brady had bailed him out of trouble a time or two over the years. Now it was Matthew’s turn to pay him back for all his good deeds.