Don't Tell the Wedding Planner

by Aimee Carson

  They stepped into the restaurant filled with wooden tables and chairs and a few customers. As usual, Aunt Billie sensed her arrival before Callie had taken ten steps inside.

  Her aunt appeared from the doorway leading into the kitchen. “Callie, hon. It’s been way too long.” She enveloped her in a hug before gripping Callie’s arms and pulling back to give her the once-over.

  Billie LaBeau loved to cook, loved to eat and she had the well-padded frame of one who did. But her generous nature dwarfed everything else in comparison. Despite the distance in the lineage, Aunt Billie took her Creole roots to heart. More important, she’d been the only relative to accept Callie’s choices, without treating her life as if she’d settled for a seriously lower second best.

  Not once had she looked at Callie with disappointment or thrown out little asides that alluded to how much Callie had screwed up. And while she constantly harped at Callie to visit more often, there was never any judgment in her tone.

  “This is Matt Paulson,” Callie said.

  “’Bout time you brought a man around here again.” Billie shot her a grin. “Haven’t done so since Colin. And you were eighteen years old then.”

  The implied ten years ago went unsaid and Callie fought the urge to close her eyes. Perhaps Matt’s presence wouldn’t be quite the protection that she’d hoped.

  “Matt is a client,” Callie said.

  Hopefully the emphasis on the word would clear up any misconceptions. Aunt Billie’s only response was a raised eyebrow at Matt’s hand on Callie’s back, sending heat shooting up Callie’s neck and flaring across her cheeks. Who needed to say anything with a facial expression like her aunt’s? Matt was studying Callie, clearly amused by the conversation and the nonverbal communication.

  “Welcome, Matt,” Aunt Billie said. “I hope you brought your appetite.”

  “I never leave home without it.”

  Aunt Billie let out an amused snort. “That’s good to hear. And Callie?” Aunt Billie returned her focus to Callie. “The family reunion is in two weeks. It’s not too late to change your mind and attend.”

  Crap, the reunion. She’d forgotten about the annual event that she had no intention of attending, ever. She couldn’t imagine anything worse than all the family members—those who’d been so proud she’d been accepted to Wimbly—talking about her behind her back. Mentioning her mistake again to her face. Callie had lost count of how many times she’d been told how lucky she was to be afforded the opportunity.

  Many of whom now never missed an opportunity to remind her of how much she’d lost when she’d mucked it all up.

  Her aunt propped a hand on her ample hip. “I’d love to have all of my family back in the same place again.”

  “Maybe,” Callie said vaguely. “My schedule is pretty busy. I’ll have to check the dates.”

  The look her aunt sent made her message clear. She didn’t believe Callie would show up, and Billie sure as heck wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to hound her more. Her suspicions about her aunt’s recent call to sort through her stuff from the dock house suddenly didn’t seem so paranoid. Billie hadn’t suddenly been bitten by a late-summer spring-cleaning urge to clean out an old building that seldom got used anymore. She’d planned on slowly eroding away Callie’s excuses.

  But the thought of all her relatives looking at her as if she’d failed...

  Damn it.

  “Well, check them dates and try a little harder to squeeze your family into that busy schedule of yours, ya’ hear?” Billie said.

  “Work has been busy.”

  “All the more reason you need to come back for a visit,” Billie said. “Let your people know how you’re doing.”

  Callie murmured something polite and vague. Billie shot her a sharp look and then seemed to give up, letting the subject go. They spent some time catching up as Billie gave Matt a tour of the kitchen, showing him around and dolling out her blunt brand of humor as they went. Callie liked the laid-back way Matt dodged her aunt’s repeated attempts to nail down the details about their relationship. Finally, her aunt seemed to realize that there would be nothing more forthcoming.

  “I finally decided to send someone out to do the repairs on the dock house. The stuff inside needs to be sorted, too,” Aunt Billie said. “And since you’re the only one that goes out there anymore, I need to know what you want me to keep and what I can toss.”

  A wave of affection hit Callie, and she reached out to gently squeeze her aunt’s hand. “Thanks.”

  She knew her aunt would have torn the thing down by now if not for her. And losing the dock house would be like losing a piece of herself.

  “But first, y’all take a seat out on the deck and I’ll bring you some lunch,” Billie said.

  Callie couldn’t resist and she sent her aunt a smile. “Make sure you make Matt’s shrimp étouffée extra special.”

  * * *

  They settled at a table out back, the edge of the deck lined by the Mississippi River. Despite the rustic surroundings, Matt appeared totally at ease. She liked that he seemed comfortable no matter where he was, whether at a classy ice bar or a backwoods restaurant. They settled into easy conversation, which ended when Aunt Billie brought sweet tea and two bowls of shrimp étouffée. Callie watched with satisfaction as Matt took his first bite, eyelids stretching wide. To his credit he swallowed and appeared completely unflustered as he reached for his iced tea before taking a sip.

  For some reason, she couldn’t resist. Matt Paulson brought out the flirt in her.

  “I thought you liked it hot,” she said.

  The deep, throaty chuckle sent a shocking shiver up her spine. When was the last time a man’s laugh made her this...aware? Because that was the only word to describe the feeling vibrating just beneath the surface of her skin. Like a potential lightning bolt loomed close and the hairs on her arms lifted in anticipation, expecting the strike at any moment.

  To cover, she pulled out her notebook. She still liked to handwrite her initial to-do list before entering information into her laptop later. There was something about the physical act of writing that always got her creative side going. While they ate, Callie went over where things stood for the LARP weekend.

  Matt never said a word outside of answering her questions, finishing his bowl of étouffée without a complaint. By the end, sweat dotted his temple, and he reached for his iced tea regularly, but, after that first look of shock...nothing.

  When he shoved his bowl back, he sent her a smile.

  “Did I pass the LaBeau initiation right?”

  Callie propped her elbows on the table. “You did,” she said. “With flying colors, too.”

  A waitress refilled their iced-tea glasses and cleared their lunch dishes away. Matt took a sip of his tea, eyeing her over his glass, and an uncomfortable feeling prickled the back of her neck.

  He set his glass down. “How come you refuse to come back to your family reunion?”

  “I didn’t refuse. I...” She pressed her lips together and slid her gaze out over the river. “I just don’t have time.”

  “Bull,” he said softly.

  She ticked her gaze back to his. “It is always easy to question the judgment of others in matters of which we may be imperfectly informed.’”

  Matt lifted a brow. “Mr. Darcy again?”

  “No. His love interest, Elizabeth Bennet. You should read the book.”

  “Maybe someday,” he said with a chuckle. But clearly he wasn’t about to be derailed from the topic at hand. “Some people aren’t lucky enough to have any family, Callie,” he said, and guilt stabbed her in the gut. “Seems a waste for you to avoid yours.”

  She opened her mouth to defend herself, feeling uncomfortable. She couldn’t formulate an intelligent response so she tried another diversionary tactic instead. />
  “You ready to go for a ride in my boat?” she said.

  The raise of his eyebrow let her know he was on to her, but then his grin turned positively sinful. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

  The suggestion slid through her and stirred her blood, but she remained outwardly calm as she played dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I was hoping there was a hidden meaning in that question,” he asked.

  He leaned forward and crossed his arms on the tiny table, his face mere inches from her face. A jolt of awareness shot through her body. The proximity sent a skitter of nerves just beneath her skin.

  Hazel. His eyes were hazel.

  For a moment, intrigued by the discovery, she couldn’t respond.

  She’d thought his eyes were brown. Of course their first meeting had taken place outside at dusk, with the only lights offered those of fake kerosene lamps. At the park she hadn’t gotten close enough to tell, and during the brain-meltingly hot moment in the dim fitting room she’d been distracted by that hard chest on display. But now, in the full light of day, and with them so close, she could make out the yellow and green specks mixed in with the brown.

  “Nope. No hidden messages,” she said. “I thought I’d show you where I used to go fishing as a kid. But I really want to see how the guy who prefers the city deals with a boat ride in backcountry Louisiana.”

  “Is this another initiation rite?”

  A grin slid up her face. “Maybe,” she said. “Think you can handle it?”

  “I can handle anything you’ve got.”

  Fighting words if she’d ever heard them.

  Her brow hiked higher. “Cocky, aren’t you?”

  He tipped back his head and laughed. And once again she was presented with a vision of a strong throat and even, white teeth. The laugh lines around his eyes weren’t as deep as his thirty years would suggest. And Callie wondered if that meant his smile rarely made it all the way to his eyes.

  “Because I’m that kind of guy, I’ll let the obvious comeback for that question slide buy.”

  “A sign of intelligence.”

  “Well—” he stood up “—let’s get the rest of this family hazing over with.”

  When they went back inside the restaurant, Aunt Billie wouldn’t let him pay, of course. Callie smothered the smile as Matt wasted ten minutes trying to change her mind, without success. Callie’s grin finally appeared as she watched Matt wait for Aunt Billie to return to the kitchen before he passed by their table and left enough to cover the bill plus a very generous tip. The man never came up against a problem he couldn’t solve.

  And what would she do if he finally turned that determination on her?

  * * *

  Fighting the doubt, Matt hooked his hands on his hips and stared down at the old fiberglass boat tied to the wooden dock. “You sure this thing is safe?”

  “Of course it is.”

  Callie, loose-limbed and agile, ignored the tiny ladder fixed to the side of the deck and hopped inside the boat with the grace of a cat. Beneath her cutoffs, toned, tanned legs ended in delicate sandals. Her beautiful shoulders now on display beneath a feminine T-shirt. Opposed to Friday night’s arrangement, her hair hung loose.

  And, as promised, a heat wave had settled on top of the delta. The muggy temperature was stifling. Although her T-shirt was damp, her face slightly flushed, she didn’t appear bothered.

  Man, how did the woman handle the weather and still look so cool?

  She turned and looked up at him, a smile on her lips and a challenge in her eyes. “Don’t you trust me?”

  His lips twitched. “Only to a certain extent.”

  Eyes twinkling, Callie remained silent and sent him an I-dare-you hike of her brow. After a moment’s hesitation, Matt let out a light scoff and climbed down into the boat.

  “Feel free to drive,” she said. “I get the feeling you like to be the one steering the boat.”

  “Was that a metaphor?” Matt said as he sat in the driver’s seat.

  “Definitely.”

  Surprisingly, the outboard motor of the flat-bottomed boat started easily, and Matt realized that, despite being old, the boat had been carefully maintained. Given the earlier conversation with her aunt, he got the distinct feeling Callie used it more than anyone else.

  Curious about why, he steered up the canal while studying the woman up front. Callie had stretched out on the bench on the bow, eyes closed and face tilted into the breeze, obviously enjoying the wind in her hair. In the bright light he could make out streaks of gold mixed with the honey-colored strands.

  The towering cypress trees lining the canal blocked most of the direct light, but the lazy heat sat on them relentlessly, the air smelling of damp earth. Spanish moss hung like tinsel in a Christmas tree, adding more of an eerie mood than a festive one.

  Matt settled back in his seat, surprised at the stillness of their surroundings. Other than the ripples from their boat, and the quiet purr of the small motor, nothing moved or made a sound. Several minutes passed with the boat following the serpentine path. They rounded a curve and a lake opened out before them. Ten minutes later Callie pointed Matt in the direction of a small boathouse on stilts, blending with the trees.

  “Here we are.”

  Matt hopped up onto the porch that also served as a high dock. Beside the wooden structure a large rope hammock—looking brand-new and out of place next to the ancient building—stretched invitingly between two oak trees. After securing the boat, he reached down and pulled Callie up onto the dock.

  “I hadn’t planned on taking the time to sightsee while in New Orleans.” And yet, here he stood in the middle of friggin’ nowhere, all because he hadn’t had the willpower to resist a day with Callie. “But if I had made plans, I certainly would have chosen something a little less...” He stared across the cypress-tree-lined lake and the lapping water. The endless stretch of nothing but water and trees. “Wild.”

  “I promise,” she said, grinning up at him, “when we get back I’ll take you out on the town and show you the best New Orleans has to offer, like a nice dinner out. A little dancing. And if you’re really lucky, maybe even a tour of my condo. But until then—” She backed up slowly toward the edge of the dock, flipping off her sandals and slipping her watch from her wrist, leaving Matt uneasy. The light in her eyes set him on edge in ways that weren’t safe to consider.

  “Where are you going?” Matt asked. A thrum of anxiety curled in Matt’s stomach, and he looked out at the water. “I don’t think—”

  “Holler when you see a gator.” And with that, Callie pivoted and dove into the water.

  The splash came, raining cool drops on Matt’s face and shirt, and he nearly groaned at the brief relief from the heat. In her T-shirt and shorts, Callie swam toward the center of a clearing beneath the low-hanging branches of several cypress trees and turned to tread water, smiling up at him.

  “You coming in?” she said. “It’s the final LaBeau initiation rite.”

  “What the hell do I get in return for passing all these tests?”

  A smile crept up her face. “A permanent spot at the family table at Po Boy’s.”

  “If you’re not going to be there, then what’s the point?”

  She shot him a you’re-not-funny look, and he decided to let the issue slide.

  “Besides,” he said, “I’m not sure that’s an honor the lining of my esophagus would survive.”

  “I told Aunt Billie to make yours extra hot.”

  He tipped his head as the realization hit him. “Yours wasn’t as hot as mine?”

  “Nope. Can’t stand it spicy. I always order it mild.” The playful light in her eyes was almost worth suffering through étouffée that could be used to strip paint from wood. />
  Almost.

  “Coming in?” she asked.

  He stared down at her, hands on his hips, and a smile tugged at his lips. “Promise this is the last of the LaBeau family torture?”

  “Last one, I swear.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  The woman clearly felt in her element. And while he might be a bit of a fish out of water in the backwoods of Louisiana, there were still some things that he controlled. Showing the lovely Ms. LaBeau a thing or two suddenly seemed incredibly important.

  And too much fun to pass up.

  After the years of worry and fear and sacrifice, he suddenly felt the urge to indulge in something just for himself. A moment to be something more than just a doctor, a brother and a stand-in parent. It had been far too long since he’d had sex, and today he was going to leave his many roles behind, save one: that of a red-blooded man in the company of a beautiful woman.

  He flipped open his snap. To her credit, she didn’t react except for a slight flaring of her eyelids as she continued to tread water. As Callie stared up at him, he struggled to keep the amusement from his face as he slid the zipper down. He waited for her to say something. A protest. A sound of encouragement. A mocking comment. Or, at the very least, a flicker of her gaze away from him.

  Nothing.

  Instead, Callie kept treading water, eyes on Matt as he hooked his hands in his shorts and shoved them down, kicking them aside. His briefs clung to his hips and, for a nanosecond, he considered shucking them, too. But he wasn’t prepared for the likely ending to a bout of skinny-dipping. For one split second he mentally kicked himself for not considering the need for condoms. But right now the sun beat down on his back and sweat trickled between his shoulder blades and the water looked cool. Even better, the expression on Callie’s face was inviting.

  He executed a shallow dive, slicing through the water, and broke the surface just two feet from where Callie continued to tread water.