The Wedding Planner's Baby (Sisters of Wishing Bridge Farm)

by Amanda Ashby

  “My what?” Bec dragged her gaze away from the large engagement ring on Tara’s finger.

  “For your baby shower,” Tara clarified. “I’m hoping Rufus can get mine done before next month. At least it will be one thing off the list. We’re trying to get all the baby shopping out of the way so you can have my full attention when we start planning the wedding.”

  “Right. I see.” Bec nodded as if thinking about her baby shower was the only thing she’d done all week. Then she glanced over at the bulging bags Tara’s friends were carrying. “So, it looks like you’ve almost finished your shopping.”

  “Finished?” Tara burst out laughing. “Are you kidding? We’ve hardly started. And of course the bigger things like the stroller, crib, and changing table are all getting delivered directly to the house. Plus, I can’t decide on my diaper service, which is turning into a nightmare. Still, at least it’s a start. Oh, Rufus is ready for us. But it’s great to see you, and I look forward to our meeting next week.”

  “Yes.” Bec gulped as Tara and her friends glided away like they were on a parade float. A parade float for perfect people. A parade float for people who know about baby showers and diaper services and cribs. For people who aren’t me. Sweat beaded on her upper lip, and her head began to swim. Why was the workshop so small?

  “Hey, are you okay?” Lincoln’s hand lightly touched her elbow, overwhelming her even more. Then, without waiting for an answer, he guided her outside to a nearby bus stop. It was empty, probably due to the fact Daisy Hill’s service was even worse than Sunshine’s, and he sat her down.

  The light afternoon breeze rustled her hair, and some of the dizziness began to subside. She sucked in a deep breath as Lincoln sat down beside her.

  “Sorry. I was hot.”

  “Should I be worried? Should I call the doctor?”

  “No.” She shook her head and leaned against the seat. The wooden back pressed in against her skin, grounding her. Then she noticed just how much her of legs were exposed in the stupid shirt. Again—what was I thinking? She frantically tugged at it as panic swelled in her chest.

  “What about some water? The doctor said it’s important not to get dehydrated,” Lincoln said as he pulled out his cell phone. “I should at least google it. What if it’s something—”

  “Lincoln, it’s fine,” she said, but the words choked her. “Okay. Not fine. Not fine at all. But a drink of water won’t fix it. Don’t you see? I’m having a freaking baby. A baby who’ll expect me to know what the hell a diaper service is, or that I need to order baby shower stationary, and a million other things.”

  “Hey.” This time his voice wasn’t mild, but rather commanding, and it had the effect of grounding her more than the wood pressing into her spine. “Bec. Look at me.”

  No. Looking was bad.

  Looking led to kissing and to remembering. But despite herself, she peered up into his eyes. Today they were two swirling pools of lake water. Cool, refreshing, and inviting. The panic in her chest lessened.

  “So,” he continued. His fingers pressed into her skin, imprinting on her more surely than anything Rufus’s complicated machinery could do. “We’re going to do this together. We’ll figure out what a diaper service is, and the best kind of cot, and all the other things our baby might need. That you might need. Okay?”

  She sucked in some air. It was infused with sandalwood and soap, and it spread through her body like a warm comforter.

  “Okay,” she said, trying to ignore his scrutiny. No doubt he was searching for signs of another meltdown and wishing he was with the impeccably dressed Tara, who looked like she’d never had a meltdown in her life. What a show off. “I’m better now.”

  “You don’t have to be better, you just have to believe me when I tell you this—Bec, I’m here to help. Besides, it’s not true that we don’t have anything for the baby.”

  “W-what do you mean.” She frowned as he nodded for her to follow him to the car. He reached in and grabbed a brown paper bag. He’d been carrying it earlier at the doctor’s office, and she’d presumed it had his notebook in it, in case he wanted to double check anything with the doctor. On closer inspection, it had the words Betty’s Gifts and Fishing Tackle on the front.

  “I mean I bought something for the baby.”

  He’d bought something for the baby?

  Somehow in the whirlwind of everything, she’d forgotten—at least, until speaking with Tara—that the baby would need things. Baby things. But while she’d forgotten, Lincoln hadn’t. Her hands shook as she took the bag from him and sat down.

  She lifted out a pair of tiny booties that had bunnies at the end of the toes. Next there was a tiny onesie with “Little Ray of Sunshine” on the front in the ugliest font Bec had ever seen. It was adorable. And right down at the bottom of the bag was a green stuffed toy. She put the other things on her lap and lifted it out, then gave a little gasp.

  “It’s an alligator. Like my alligator,” she said in a stunned voice as she turned it over. Sure, there was no stain from when she’d dropped it into a puddle when she was in Greece, and the eyes weren’t black beads, which was good because Coop had told her only the day before that beads were choking hazards. But for all intents and purposes, it was the same.

  “I know you like to travel with it, so when I saw this, I thought it would be good for the baby,” Lincoln said as he tilted his head, his eyes clouded with uncertainty. “But if you don’t like it, I could always take it back.”

  “No.” Bec closed her eyes and hugged the toy to her chest. Everything was so confusing. Lincoln wasn’t meant to be part of any of this. He was meant to be in England at Snotty Manor. And yet not only had he wriggled his way into her business with the wedding, now he was going to the doctor is with her and buying her adorable toys. The kind of toys I’d buy myself. “I like it. I like it a lot. Thank you.”

  “It’s nothing. I meant what I said. I want to be part of our baby’s life, which means I want to give you everything you need.”

  “Like ice cream?” Bec said as she edged away from him, hoping it might help restore her sanity.

  “Do you want an ice cream?”

  “I’m pregnant. It’s safe to assume I always want ice cream.” She tried to keep her voice light. It wasn’t quite true, but it had the effect of making him stand up and go striding down the street to the corner shop. Which was good, because the more space between them, the better chance she had of keeping her promise to put her baby first.

  Chapter Eight

  “I definitely think this is the right color,” Miss Dottie said the following morning as Lincoln finished painting the far wall of the reception area. For the third time. So far it had been a dull blue, a lilac, and now it was sunrise orange. “It sure makes for a nice feature wall.”

  “Yes, it does.” Lincoln put down the roller brush and looked at his handiwork. He couldn’t say he was a fan of the color, but on the plus side, helping Miss Dottie had helped take his mind off Bec and their agreement. There could be no more kissing. Not even when she looks at me with those eyes and parts her lips in that way that drives me crazy.

  At least she didn’t appear to have a problem with it.

  It had been three days since their trip to Daisy Hill, and every time he’d called, she’d been distant, complaining that Emmy was a slave driver and she couldn’t get away from the farm.

  “And I think my babies like it, too.” Miss Dottie nodded to the collection of sinister looking porcelain dolls she was referring to. Suddenly he was pleased he only had a life-size Elvis to worry about at night.

  “Er, that’s good,” he agreed, as his cell phone buzzed. Bec? He yanked it out of his pocket to see his brother’s name flash up on the screen. He swallowed his disappointment and excused himself before slipping into the dinning room. “Theo, where the hell have you been?”

  “What do you mean?” his brother said. “Three days ago you asked me to find you a couple who wanted a free wedding, and these thin
gs take time.”

  “I know. Sorry.” Lincoln bit back his impatience. “So, how did you get on?”

  “Not so good,” his brother said in a mournful voice, which would’ve sounded more convincing if it hadn’t been accompanied by loud music blaring through from the background. He was obviously at the pub.

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I remembered all my friends are twenty-two years old and can’t even commit to a social media account, let alone to a marriage. I do have one lot who might consider it, but you’d need to fly over their fifty closest friends and two dogs.”

  “The deal was the couple’s flights only. Guests have to pay separately.”

  “I suspected as much.” Theo sighed. “How are you getting on?”

  “Not much better,” Lincoln admitted. In between helping Miss Dottie he’d put up a Craig’s List notice before quickly taking it down again thanks to the hundreds of crazy emails he’d received. Since then he’d started hanging around City Hall looking for people who were getting a marriage license. It hadn’t been successful, especially since it was so close to Thanksgiving. When Lincoln had picked the date, it had been random, but he was now starting to see the error of his ways.

  “Well, panic not, because I have an idea. Have you ever considered asking the mysterious Bec to marry you? After all, she’s about to have your child, and she’s presumably planning the wedding of her dreams. It kind of makes sense.”

  “Only if you haven’t met her.” Lincoln tried to image Bec enjoying any part of the wedding she’d planned for Julia and Richard. He failed. “Let’s just say I did suggest getting married, and it didn’t go down well. I believe the words ‘this isn’t Victorian times’ might have been thrown around.”

  “Really?” Theo let out an impressed whistle. “Interesting.”

  “And why do you say that?”

  “Because between taking naked photos of you and turning down your offer of marriage, not to mention getting pregnant, this Bec has taken you on more of an adventure than you’ve had in the last eight years. She sounds like fun.”

  “That’s one way to describe her,” Lincoln said. Not to mention dazzling, passionate, complicated, and totally off-limits. “I’ve already told you there’s nothing between us. She lives here, and in two weeks I’ll be back in England.”

  “Yes, and if only there weren’t these things called airplanes,” Theo retorted. “Hell, one of my friends has a job in New York and an apartment in the East End of London. Another commutes to Japan every other week. It’s a new world, with new rules.”

  “You might be right,” Lincoln said, trying not to feel old compared to his brother’s jet-setting friends. “But Bec isn’t interested. The best I can hope for is regular visits to see the baby. Anyway, let’s talk about something else. How’s everything over there?”

  “Well, Howard and our mother seem to spend every waking minute looking at accounts and ledgers in the study, which means it’s nothing out of the usual. Though, she did tell me I might want to pack my bags because if this deal falls through, we’ll all be homeless. She stopped herself from mentioning Victoria’s name, but I could tell she was thinking it.”

  “The deal isn’t going to fall through.” Lincoln gritted his teeth. No points for guessing where Theo got his dramatic streak. It was also a reminder that all the reasons he and Bec had decided not to kiss again still stood. He had obligations that required him to be in England.

  “Hey, it’s no skin off my nose. Imagine how many more acting jobs I’ll book if people know I was forced to live on the streets.”

  “Sorry to ruin your career prospects,” Lincoln growled. “But it’s not going to happen, as our mother well knows.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Theo grudgingly agreed. “You’re probably right. I’ll try and bear it as best as I can.”

  “I’d rather you find me a bride and groom,” Lincoln said before a commotion in the reception area intruded. It was Bec, about to drop one of Miss Dottie’s dolls on its head. “I’m going to have to call you back.”

  “Sure.” Theo didn’t seem unduly bothered as Lincoln hung up, pocketed his cell phone, and walked out to where Bec was still standing.

  “Okay, not to be judgmental, but that’s probably a bad habit to start.” Lincoln plucked the doll from out of her hands. Soap and sunshine flooded his senses. Will I ever get sick of being near her?

  “Oh.” She bit down on her lower lip, making her more gorgeous than ever. “It’s not what it looks like. One of the dolls used to talk if you turned it upside down. I didn’t know Miss Dottie had them out on display. And by the way, since when has the wall been orange?”

  “Since Lincoln was sweet enough to paint it for me.” Miss Dottie reappeared with a miniature tea set in her hands. “He’s been such a blessing to me.”

  “It’s nothing.” Lincoln studied Bec’s face. “So, what are you doing here? I thought you were busy today. Something about a location scout.”

  “I am, but I have to pee. You have no idea how often that’s happening. I hoped Miss Dottie wouldn’t mind if I used her restroom. I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

  Not expecting me to be here, or not wanting me to be here?

  Not that he had to ask. The high color on her cheeks was all the answer he needed.

  Miss Dottie, indifferent to the tension, just smiled. “Of course you can, dear. And you might be able to do me a favor. If you’re going past the hardware store, I need more paint. I’m so happy with the orange I think we need some pink to do the skirting boards.”

  “Pink.” Bec’s eyes widened before she grinned. “It will be amazing, and of course I’ll pick some up for you.”

  “Excellent.” Miss Dottie beamed. “And you can take Lincoln. Poor chap’s been stuck here helping me out for three days. Some fresh air would do him good.”

  “The thing is…” Bec started to protest, but Miss Dottie had already turned and was marching to her old-fashioned register to get some money out. “Sure. Of course he can come with me. Though, I have a few jobs to do. He’ll probably be bored.”

  Lincoln could be many things when he was around Bec, but bored wasn’t one of them. Plus, if he stayed, Miss Dottie might make him join in with the afternoon tea she was planning for the porcelain dolls.

  “Sounds great.” He went to collect a jacket while she used the restroom. Now he had to remind himself of all the reasons why nothing could happen between them.

  …

  “So, what do you think?” Bec asked an hour later, as Lincoln stood out on the jutting ridge of the cliff face. The sky beyond was streaked with shades of blue, from aquamarine through to the palest of grays. Not that she noticed, since her gaze kept drifting to his thighs, straining against his jeans while the sun danced on his skin, making him like a bronzed statue.

  A really lickable bronzed statue.

  God. What’s wrong with me?

  This was all her bladder’s fault. Actually, no. It was Coop’s fault because he’d warned her not to get another parking ticket while using his car and so, without any change for the meters, she’d decided to risk going into Miss Dottie’s place, where she could park around the back. Plus, she’d stupidly assumed Lincoln would be safely tucked away in his room.

  Rule number one: never assume.

  “The view’s amazing.” He turned her, the valley hidden behind him. Bec’s heart pounded. Doctor’s office, Miss Dottie’s Bed and Breakfast, on top of a cliff… Was there anywhere he didn’t fit in? “Your client’s going to love it.”

  “I hope so,” Bec said as she held up her cell phone and snapped some shots. “They said they wanted something wild and untamed, and I thought of this place. I used to ride out here as a kid.”

  “Let me guess—Coop came with you?” He turned around, shallow lines spread out across his brow.

  “God, no. Coop can just about climb a ladder. Standing on a cliff isn’t exactly his idea of a good time.” She widened her eyes. “Are you jealous of him?
”

  “Even if I am, I know don’t have any right to be,” he said, not quite returning her gaze.

  Her heart pounded out a frenzied beat, and the world dipped in and out of focus. He is jealous. Part of her wondered if she should just let it continue. After all, she and Coop had pretended to date on several occasions when one or the other had needed rescuing. Why not for this, too? But as she took in Lincoln’s chiseled face, the same compulsion that had gripped her to tell him the truth about her nightmares refused to let her lie now.

  “There’s nothing going on. Coop’s just a friend. A friend who’s always been there for me, and I can’t imagine my life without him.”

  But he’s not you.

  “I see.” Lincoln still didn’t look at her, but some of the tension around his jaw had lifted. Not that I care. Because caring might led to dangerous things. Kissing things. “So this is your place, not his place?”

  “I guess so,” she said as several stones shifted and fell into the valley below. She sat down and crossed her legs before picking up a broken twig and sending it in the same direction as the rocks. She followed the descent until it disappeared. “I’ve always loved it here. Being at the edge of the world makes me feel connected to something bigger.”

  “You’re saying the edge of the world is in Connecticut?” Lincoln sat down beside her and his mouth twitched. There was that mouth thing again. She dropped her treacherous gaze and studied her hands.

  “It felt like it was when I was twelve.” She shrugged. It was difficult to explain how trapped she’d felt living at the farm with Ivy and her sisters. How disconnected it had left her, and how standing on a cliff, her heart pounding, was a reminder she was alive. That she existed.

  If she told Lincoln the truth, he’d probably give her a lecture about not climbing up ladders or standing on cliffs. Everyone else always did. She wrapped her arms around her stomach.

  “That makes sense,” he said. “When I was twelve I did exactly the same thing. Though, we didn’t have a cliff, just an old abbey on the estate. It was out-of-bounds, of course, but I used to sneak into it all the time and climb as high as I could.”