“Who was it?”
“Well, the person sitting across from me was Wesley. But it couldn’t be him, either, for obvious reasons. Or if it was, he must have thought it was Serena’s foot. She was sitting on my right.”
“So you chalked it up to the darkness and the drink and a case of mistaken foot identity?” She could hear the grin in Macy’s voice.
“Exactly. Everyone was getting along extremely well. We had an especially good time with Serena and Wesley. Wesley was very funny, funnier than usual. And Serena was more affectionate with him than I’ve ever seen her. Maybe it was because she was playing for the cameras to win the contest. But I hope it was genuine.”
“I hope so, too.”
“I’m glad you’re giving her the benefit of the doubt,” said Macy. “We could all use that.”
They said their good-byes, and Greer brushed her hair and her teeth. She wouldn’t take a shower until after their turtle expedition.
When she walked quietly back out to the bedroom, she thought about how she and Ford had finally retreated to their rooms at eleven thirty the night before. All the fun of the evening had paled in comparison to the moment he took her face in both hands and kissed her senseless, then pulled down her bikini bottoms and kissed her between her legs while her top was still on and he was crouched in his Hawaiian board shorts.
He’d looked up at one point. “I’ve been wanting to do this all night.”
But she couldn’t speak at that moment.
He went back to work and seconds later, her knees buckled and he had her on the plush carpet. He rolled over her and out of nowhere produced a condom and they had a quick, down-and-dirty coupling that left them both gasping for air.
After that, they slept like babies all night.
The morning sun made diagonal lines on the floor through the blinds. She walked through them, her calves striped with light, and got close to the bed. Ford was lying on his side. He opened an eye. “Thank God you’re not clothed,” he said.
She wasn’t. “I always sleep in the nude.”
He rolled on his back. “I never would have guessed that. You’re so tailored and together by day.”
“I am, but there’s a time and a place for everything, right?”
“Right. Come on over here.”
She did. “We only have ten minutes before we have to be in the kitchen.”
He smiled sleepily. “We can do a lot in ten minutes. Want to try?”
And they did. They arrived only three minutes late, and everyone could tell exactly what they’d been up to, but weren’t they supposed to be lovey-dovey?
The entire weekend was a dream come true, as far as Greer was concerned. She was happy, really happy, and about ninety-nine percent of that was Ford. She posed for him twice in their room. And each time he threw down his paintbrush and grumbled that he couldn’t do anything until he’d made love to her, which he did, quite thoroughly, once on the bed and the other time in the shower.
Early Sunday afternoon, Greer took a peek at the painting. It was almost finished. “It’s been a great weekend,” she said, “and I love that you were able to get in some painting time.”
“I think it’s good,” he said. “But I want it to be better.”
“What could make it better?”
“I don’t know. It feels like whatever it is, is only a little bit beyond my reach.”
She kissed his cheek. “Well, I love it. You made me look beautiful.”
“That was easy. You are.”
But they had to stop talking and get ready. They were supposed to attend an afternoon barbecue, mixing with local residents and the media. It was their third and last public affair. The first had been on Saturday at noon, after the turtle nest hunt. They’d had lunch at the Windjammer, the best beach bar in the South. They got involved in a real volleyball game there and had a blast. And then Saturday night, they attended the grand opening of a bar in downtown Charleston as the special VIP guests. People actually lined a red carpet and threw confetti at them. There were shouts about who their favorites were, and plenty of people yelled, “Hey, Greer and Ford! How’s the engagement going?”
Miss Thing had been at the top of the line, leaning over the velvet rope, more excited than anyone there. So just for her, Greer had kissed Ford in an old-school Hollywood way, with her foot in the air and her arms wrapped around his neck. The hooting and hollering had been deafening, but she’d loved every minute of that kiss.
“You were born to be cherished,” Ford told her in her ear.
“That was nice of you to say,” she whispered back.
It was as if no one else was there.
“I mean it,” he murmured.
And they kissed again, this time quietly and fervently. She felt it in him, his sincerity. And in that moment, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt: she loved him. She was head over heels in love with Ford Smith. When he pulled back, she couldn’t speak.
“You okay?” he asked her.
She nodded, and over his shoulder she saw Miss Thing dabbing at her eyes with her white cotton glove. She was crying. And Greer knew why. Miss Thing had guessed! She knew Greer was in love.
There was nothing to be done about it, was there? She’d enjoy it while she could.
So on Sunday afternoon at the barbecue, she laughed. She chatted. She interacted with many friendly people who’d come out to see the La Di Da couples and give them advice and support. She also bonded even further with her fellow brides. Lisa was having an especially hard time.
“I enjoy having my father here,” Lisa said, when she and Greer were going through the buffet line together, putting cornbread, cole slaw, and pork barbecue on their plates. “But I miss Buck.” Buck was her fiancé.
“It must be so hard,” Greer commiserated.
Ford was at the other end of the line chatting with a bunch of women who’d met him at the bake-off. Together she and he had decided on the way over to sit at different tables and woo double the votes, but then at the last minute, Greer saw Lisa and changed her mind. She wanted to have some girl time with her. She could visit with the voting public after lunch.
Lisa nodded. “It is hard, but we’ll make it through. Only seventy-two days until he gets home.”
Greer was moved by her friend’s devotion. And for the first time, she felt a terrible pang of worry that maybe she shouldn’t try to win the gown. Because if she did, she couldn’t share it with Lisa. Lisa had already said there was no way she could wear it without cutting it down drastically, which would make it impossible for Greer to wear it when she got married because she would never be a size zero.
“Buck’s enjoying seeing you in this contest, isn’t he?” she asked Lisa when they sat down at a picnic table.
Lisa chuckled. “He loves it, and everyone he works with does, too. He’s taking some ribbing because we’ve FaceTimed and it’s been on TV, and he feels like a star in a way. So do I. No matter what happens”—she broke a piece of cornbread in half—“I’ve had a ton of fun. Haven’t you?”
Greer smiled. “I have. I really have. Although”—she looked over at Kiki, who wore a bored expression in the buffet line—“I could do without Kiki’s warnings about how we have to act.”
“Yeah, they’re definitely not just pep talks.” Lisa took a sip of sweet tea. “She’s doing her best to remind us the contest is a marketing ploy, not just a chance for us to enjoy ourselves.”
“Speak of the devil,” said Greer.
Kiki came over with a plate that held a small pile of shredded pork and nothing else. “You ladies need to mingle. Hurry up and finish, why don’t you?”
“We wouldn’t want to skip dessert,” said Lisa. “It’s banana pudding. And this was the only table with room to sit down. Congratulations on hosting such a successful event.”
Kiki lowered her finely plucked brows.
Greer was impressed with Lisa’s diplomacy. She stood. “I’ll get us both some banana pudding, Lisa.” Lisa gave her a
thumbs-up, then turned to talk to a couple who were proceeding to sit down at their table. Greer looked at Kiki. “How about you? I can carry three bowls.”
“Not interested,” said Kiki.
“Um, okay,” said Greer, and started to move away, but Kiki turned and touched her arm.
“Don’t forget what Pierre told you,” she murmured.
“I haven’t,” Greer said back in a low tone. “But I intend to try my darnedest to win this thing fair and square. You’d better watch it, Kiki. How do you know I’m not recording you?”
“Who cares? I’ve said nothing wrong. Pierre told you to give the contest your all, that’s all. He asked me to relay that message to all the contestants.” Kiki’s gimlet gaze was annoying, to say the least.
“Isn’t that kind of him?” Greer said. “And how generous of you to help him the way you do. Where is it you’re from, Kiki?”
“Los Angeles.”
“By way of west Texas, right? And I heard a two-bit strip joint loomed large in your professional background.” Kiki opened her mouth to speak, but Greer cut her off. “Hey, I don’t hold that against you. In fact, it makes me wonder why a gal who knows what it’s like to struggle would hang out with a man like Pierre. He’s good at taking women’s money, but he’s not a nice person. Aren’t you afraid he’ll drag you down?”
Kiki lofted one brow. “How is everything at Two Love Lane?”
Greer narrowed her eyes at her. “Peachy,” she said, and took off.
Ugh. The sisterhood angle hadn’t worked. Maybe banana pudding would help her feel better.
When she got back to the table with two heaping helpings of the fluffy, scrumptious Southern concoction, Kiki had disappeared. Lisa and the couple were surrounding an iPhone and chatting to Lisa’s husband in Afghanistan. Lisa turned the phone toward Greer, and she waved. “Hello, there, Buck!”
“Lisa tells me you’re all having fun,” he said. There was a green Army jacket hanging on a wall behind him.
“We sure are,” Greer said. “Wish you could be here.”
“Me, too.” Buck’s earnest face was so cute.
“Only seventy-two days,” she told him, a lump forming in her throat.
“Seventy-one now,” he said with a laugh, and looked at his watch. “It just turned midnight here.”
Lisa was blooming with happiness all through that call. It was such a sweet thing to witness. So when Greer ran into Ford a few minutes later at the La Di Da Bridal hoedown, featuring a team of country dancers—the girls dressed in short bridal gowns and veils, and the guys in jeans and black coattail jackets and bowties, with no shirts—she clapped, hooted, and hollered along with everyone else.
But her heart was back there with Lisa and Buck.
“I can’t let Lisa and Buck’s story change my mind,” she said in Ford’s ear. “I mean, I’d love to lend her the gown if I win, but it won’t work. She’s already said so.”
“They’re a very nice couple,” he said, his eyes still on the dancers, a carefree grin making him so handsome, she wanted to kiss him.
“Is it wrong to want something so much?” she asked him. Was she talking about him or the gown? It was hard to tell. She wanted both of them. Desperately.
He looked at her for a few silent seconds. “It’s human nature,” he said. “You can’t escape wanting. It takes you places, so it’s not a bad thing, usually. You’ve enjoyed yourself in this contest, haven’t you?”
“Yes. So much!”
“Chasing something changes you sometimes.”
“I can see that,” she said.
“But not always for the good. It’s a risk you take.”
“What do you do about wanting something badly?”
“Try not to get consumed by it. Try to outwit it. Stay balanced. But I’ve not had much luck.”
And then the floor opened to the crowd, and he dragged her onto it. She liked how honest he was, and it felt good holding hands with him. He had such a firm, warm grip. Together they did their share of do-si-do-ing, and once they even met Kiki across the floor with her dance partner. Kiki had settled down enough that Greer felt semi-relaxed again.
When the female dancers all switched partners, she found herself for a few seconds with Wesley. She smiled at him. They’d come a long way. And she was happy for him.
“I’m getting cold feet, Greer,” he said, looking right into her eyes. “It’s not like it was when we were together. Maybe I still have feelings for you.”
And then she was swung off to the next man, and the next—a blur of figures and colors, the noise of the fiddle piercing and shrill—until she found herself back with Ford.
“I gotta go,” she whispered, and ran off the floor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
It was Sunday night, and the results of the contest were in. Kiki told everyone they’d be announced from the beach house in half an hour. The huge public response was quite the triumph for Pierre. Too bad he was still in Scotland. According to the TV station manager, they’d been inundated with votes. People were able to text their selections to a special number sponsored by the TV station. They could also go online to the station’s Web site and vote that way. And that was it. No votes could be placed at La Di Da’s Web site. It wasn’t set up properly to accommodate the process, and as far as Greer was concerned, that was a good thing. It meant it was much more likely that the contest wasn’t fixed. And the fact that the mayor of Charleston was involved in oversight added to her comfort levels. Everyone knew he was a person of integrity.
But Pierre was a wily man. And who knew what he was capable of?
Even so, the contest results were hardly on her mind at the moment. She’d felt numb ever since the square dance. She didn’t know what to do. Should she talk to Serena? Should she talk to Wesley? Should she tell Ford what had happened?
Or should she just shut up and hope that Wesley had been drunk … or in a temporary panic when he’d confessed his worries to her? If so, surely by now, he regretted it. He really should apologize to her for making her feel uncomfortable, but in a way, she hoped he never came near her again. She could live without the apology. She just wanted him and Serena to be happy.
And she’d been worried that it was Serena who might be getting cold feet! Wesley had seemed devoted to her. Greer would never forget the day of the auction seeing them walk toward her on the corner of Calhoun and Meeting, hand in hand, and how excited he’d been to tell Greer they were getting married.
“Shut the front door!” Miss Thing exclaimed when Greer snuck off into the dunes and called her three besties for a group chat. “He did this during a square dance? What is this, Oklahoma? Did he take you on a ride in his surrey with the fringe on top next?”
“Miss Thing!” Macy exclaimed. “This is serious business.”
None of them had been able to go to the barbecue event. Miss Thing had still been working on her taxes for her Price Is Right winnings with their elderly accountant—the one who acted in love with her. Once more she’d asked Pete from Roastbusters to come to dinner, too, as a buffer. Macy and Deacon had had a special dinner to attend with his Aunt Fran and her devoted beau, Colonel Block. Ella’s niece had had a piano recital. No Mancini ever missed a piano recital.
But Greer welcomed Miss Thing’s sass. Maybe she was worrying overmuch. “We were together less than ten seconds,” she said. “And then I left the dance floor.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised he hasn’t gotten over you,” said Macy. “You’re a real catch.”
Greer moaned. “You’re sweet, but that’s the last thing I want to hear.”
“When I saw them together onstage the night you guys became finalists,” Ella said, “and they kissed like the world was ending, I got the feeling from Wesley that it really was.”
There was a beat of silence.
“I-I never noticed that,” Greer said.
“I didn’t either,” said Miss Thing.
“He seemed uncomfortable to me,” Ella in
sisted. “Like he was putting on a show. Your kiss with Ford seemed so much more real in comparison.”
That warmed Greer’s heart.
“Now that I think about it,” Miss Thing said, “when they walked up the red carpet at that super-fun grand opening, Serena was all smiles, and Wesley was like an undertaker—even though they were heading into a bar, and drinks were on the house.”
Greer chuckled. “Miss Thing, you always manage to make me smile. But the truth is, every time I see them, they look totally into each other.”
“Maybe he’s been trying to make it work with Serena,” Macy said, “and most of the time he can manage it. But apparently, not all the time, and some of us are nosy enough—or shall I say, intuitive enough—to notice.”
“It’s why y’all are matchmakers and I’m your biggest cheerleader,” said Miss Thing.
“Well, what should I do?” asked Greer.
Nobody said anything over the line for a few seconds. The breeze was blowing strong off the water, and she stood to face it, knowing full well by the time she returned to the house, her hair would be a mess. They were going on TV in half an hour, and Kiki had told them to clean up and look good.
“Take it minute by minute,” Miss Thing suggested. “Sweetie, you aren’t responsible for Wesley’s behavior. I wouldn’t go to battle stations just yet.”
“I think that’s excellent advice,” said Ella. “This could potentially be very damaging for their relationship. And maybe he regrets saying it.”
“I agree,” said Macy. “Let it go for now. But if he corners you again, Greer, you’ll have to do something about it.”
“Yes, I will.” Greer blew out a big breath. “Let’s hope this whole thing just goes away. But I feel much better having talked to you.”
“We miss you,” Ella said.
Greer got tears in her eyes. “I miss you, too. Things will go back to normal starting this week. It’ll be nice to have the contest behind me.”
“Everything’s fine at the office,” said Macy, “so don’t worry. You’re keeping up with what you have to.”
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