‘No worries.’ He spoke casually enough, but when he looked back at her he still seemed upset, as if she’d done something wrong. But then, without warning, he smiled.
His smile was warm and friendly again, and once more Zoe was electrified. Instantly. Ridiculously. She found herself conjuring a picture of him in a farmhouse kitchen, smiling that same yummy smile across the breakfast table at her, after a night of delicious lovemaking.
Good grief. Next minute she’d be imagining him naked.
Could he guess?
‘Excuse me.’
His voice roused her. Blushing, she stepped out of his way as he carried the new wheel and hefted it into position. But, heaven help her, she was mesmerised by the strength of his shoulders and the sureness of his hands as he lined up the wheel as if it weighed no more than a cardboard button, and fitted it into place.
‘You’ve done this before,’ she said.
‘So many times, I could do it in my sleep.’
*********
Zoe wasn’t sure it was wise to let her mind wander in the direction of this man’s sleep. Better to keep the talk flowing.
She said, ‘I’ve watched my dad change tyres on country roads enough times. I should have picked up a few more clues.’
He looked up at her, clearly surprised. ‘Which country roads? You’re not from around here, are you?’
‘No. My parents were in a band and they toured all around the various country shows.’ She hoped any resentment she felt for those nomadic gypsy years hadn’t crept into her voice.
‘Which band?’ he asked, pausing in the middle of tightening a nut.
‘Lead the Way.’
‘You’re joking.’
Laughing, Zoe shook her head. ‘No, I’m afraid I’m serious.’
‘Were both your parents in Lead the Way?’
‘Yep. My dad was the lead singer and my mum was on drums.’
‘So you’re Mick Weston’s daughter?’
‘His one and only.’ It wasn’t an admission Zoe needed to make very often. Since she’d started work in the city she’d hardly met anyone who’d heard of her parents or their band.
‘Amazing.’ To her surprise, he threw his head back and laughed. ‘Wait till I tell my old man. He’s a huge fan of Mick Weston. Never missed a Lead the Way performance in Willara.’
Fancy that. Zoe beamed at him. It was heartening to be reminded that her dad had been very popular out here.
But, heavens, now she and this stranger had something in common and she found herself liking him more than was sensible. Perhaps encouraging conversation wasn’t such a bright idea.
She busied herself with securing the punctured tyre in the boot and restowing all the bits and pieces of luggage.
By the time she’d finished, her good Samaritan was removing the jack. ‘That’s done,’ he said, straightening and dusting off his hands.
‘Thank you so much. It’s incredibly kind of you. I really am very grateful.’ And just a little sad that we’ll have to say goodbye now …
He stood with his feet apart, hands resting lightly on his hips, watching her with an enigmatic smile. ‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Do you sing or play the guitar?’
‘’Fraid not.’ Zoe returned his smile—seemed her face was permanently set in smile mode. ‘The musical genes totally bypassed me.’
‘But you inherited your dad’s talent for flat tyres on country roads.’
‘Yes … unfortunately.’
Wow. Instead of rushing off, he was making conversation with her. And Zoe loved it. She was no longer bothered that he was a stranger. She was too busy enjoying this amazing experience—the most awesome sensation of being swept high and pumped full of excitement, as if she were riding a magnificent, shining wave.
Were her feet still touching the ground?
She’d never felt like this before. Not with a complete stranger. Not with this bursting-from-a-geyser intensity. Rodney the Rat didn’t count. He’d been a work colleague and she’d known him for twelve months before he asked her out.
Truth was—Zoe usually lacked confidence around guys. She guessed it was part of an overall lack of confidence, a problem that stemmed from her childhood when she’d always been the new girl in town, always arriving late in the term when all the friendship groups were firmly established. She’d grown up knowing she’d never quite fitted in.
But this man’s gorgeous smile made her feel fabulously confident and suddenly her biggest fear was that he would simply drive away—out of her life.
‘I’ll tell my dad I met the son of one of his fans,’ she told him.
‘Do you have far to go?’ her helper asked.
‘I don’t think it’s much farther. I’m heading for Willara Downs.’
He stiffened. ‘Willara Downs?’
‘It’s a property near here—a farm.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Now, he was frowning again. ‘It’s my property.’
His property?
Really?
A sudden chill swept over Zoe. He wasn’t.
He couldn’t be.
‘You’re—you’re not—a Rigby, are you?’
‘I certainly am.’ He smiled, but it was a shade too late, and with only a fraction of its former warmth. ‘The name’s Kent Rigby.’ His smile wavered as he asked uncertainly, ‘Should I know you?’
Oh, God, he was Bella’s Kent … Bella’s boy next door.
Kent’s been so sweet, Bella had said.
No wonder he was nice. He was the man her best friend was about to marry.
A cool breeze made icy goose bumps on Zoe’s skin. The purple tinged dusk crowded in and she felt suddenly, terribly weary. And wary.
‘We haven’t met,’ she said quietly, hoping she didn’t sound as ridiculously disappointed as she felt. ‘But we’ll soon have a lot to do with each other. I’m Zoe. Bella’s bridesmaid.’
Kent Rigby’s eyes darkened and his features were momentarily distorted, as if he tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.
But if he’d been caught out, he was very good at covering it up. ‘Sorry, I should have guessed,’ he said, speaking smoothly once more, with no hint of disturbance. ‘But I expected you to be with Bella.’
Calmly, he held out his hand.
Unhappily, she felt the warmth and strength of his hand enclose hers in a firm clasp. ‘Hello, Kent.’
‘Hi, Zoe.’
‘I dropped Bella off at the hospital. She tried to call you to explain that I’d be arriving on my own.’
Kent had forgotten to let go of her hand. ‘I’m actually on my way back from seeing Tom myself,’ he said.
‘How—how is he?’
‘Slightly improved, thank God.’
Suddenly he realised he was still holding her hand. Letting go, he cracked a slightly embarrassed grin, then thrust his hands into his jeans pockets. He straightened his shoulders, then looked to the sky in the east where a huge full moon was already poking its golden head above a dark, newly ploughed field. ‘I guess Bella will ring when she’s ready to be picked up.’
‘Yes.’
‘We’d better get going, then. Would you like to follow me? I’ll keep you in my rear vision, so I’ll know you’re OK.’
‘Thanks.’
As Zoe followed Kent Rigby’s ute she tried to laugh at herself. What a fool she’d been, getting all hot and bothered about a stranger she’d met on a road side.
Shouldn’t she have guessed that a hot-looking guy like Kent would have already been taken? Hadn’t she learned anything from her experience with Rodney?
OK, so she was feeling ridiculously disappointed right now, but she’d get over it. She’d been looking forward to this weekend too much to let anything spoil it. She’d been so excited about Bella’s wedding and being her bridesmaid. She’d wanted to be the perfect bridesmaid.
That was still her goal. Having a fan-girly moment over the bridegroom had been a minor hiccup, but she’d recover in no time.
In the fading light of dusk, which just happened to be Zoe’s favourite time of day, the track she and Kent were driving along emerged out of a purple-shadowed tunnel of trees onto sweeping lawns, dusky and magical in the twilight.
Zoe saw an archway of rambler roses and a weeping willow … an elegant, Federation-style house, long and low, with lights already glowing on the veranda.
The car’s wheels crunched on white gravel as she pulled up behind Kent’s ute in front of smooth sandstone steps flanked by garden beds filled with agapanthus and lilies. When Kent got out, she saw him silhouetted against the backdrop of his home. Damn. It was such an attractive image—but she had to stop thinking like that.
She had no choice. This gorgeous man was Bella’s future husband and there was no way she would let her silly imagination give into any more reckless fantasies.
‘I’ll show you to your room,’ Kent said with the gracious charm of a perfect host, which showed that he at least knew exactly what his role was.
Zoe followed him down a hallway past an elegant lounge room with deep squishy sofas and rich Oriental rugs to a pretty bedroom that was the epitome of comfort and tasteful country-style décor.
With her things stowed, she was taken out to a wisteria-scented back veranda, and soon found herself sitting in a deep cushion-lined cane chair, sipping chilled white wine while she and Kent looked out in the fading light to the most beautiful view of fields and distant hills.
She suppressed an urge to sigh. Everything about Kent Rigby’s home was as gorgeous as he was. And it was all so beautifully presented she supposed he must have a housekeeper and a gardener. Lucky Bella wouldn’t be a slave to housework.
As a child, looking out of the bus window, Zoe had dreamed of living in a lovely farmhouse like the Rigbys', but she’d never been the jealous type and she wasn’t about to start now.
Very soon Bella would return from the hospital and take her rightful place at Kent Rigby’s side. And Zoe’s silly road side mistake would be a thing of the past.
Clutching an icy glass of beer as if his life depended on it, Kent struggled to ignore the girl sitting beside him. Not an easy task when he was her host and hospitable manners had been ingrained in him from birth.
Problem was, he was badly rattled and he couldn’t really understand how he’d got this way. Anyone would think he wasn’t used to meeting new girls—when the truth was quite the opposite.
He could only assume the problem arose because he hadn’t adjusted to his newly engaged status. No doubt that would explain the crazy chemistry that had gripped him from the moment he set eyes on Bella’s bridesmaid.
Why the hell hadn’t he introduced himself to Zoe Weston as soon as he stepped up to help her? If he’d known who she was, he could have avoided those telling moments—those shocking spellbinding seconds when he’d felt drawn to her, as if a bizarre spell had been cast over him.
Chances were, he’d never have noticed her inexplicable appeal, that special something in her eyes, and in the sheen of her hair or the tilt of her smile—a quality that rocked his easy-going nature to its very foundations.
How crazy was that? He’d exchanged nothing more than a few glances with her.
Kent knew it was nothing more than an illusion. A mistake. It was more than likely that every man experienced a similar difficulty in his pre-wedding weeks. Commitment to one girl didn’t automatically stop a guy from noticing other girls. Learning to ignore their appeal was part of the adjustment to being engaged or married.
In Kent’s case, his commitment was binding on all kinds of levels, and there was no going back. No regrets. He was a man of his word.
Besides, if he was rational about this, there wasn’t even anything particularly special about Zoe Weston. Her brown hair and blue eyes and slim build were nice enough, but her looks were average. Surely?
The imagined attraction was merely a blip, and now he could put it behind him.
That settled, Kent took a deep, reassuring draft of beer, pleased to realise he’d been overreacting.
It wasn’t as easy as Zoe had hoped to relax while sitting beside Kent on his veranda. She found herself crossing and uncrossing her legs, fiddling with the stem of her wine glass, or sneaking sideways glances at her host’s stare-worthy profile. Hardly the behaviour of a perfect bridesmaid.
Desperate to stop this nonsense, she jumped to her feet and leaned on the veranda railing, looking out at the parklike sweep of gardens that stretched to a timber fence, and fields of golden crops and grazing animals.
Concentrate on the wedding—not the groom.
Casually, she asked, ‘Are you planning a garden wedding, Kent?’
He looked surprised, as if the question had caught him out, but he responded readily enough. ‘An outdoor ceremony would be great and the weather forecast is promising. What do you think?’
Rising from his chair, he joined her at the veranda’s edge, and once again Zoe was struggling to ignore his proximity. Now there was the tantalising whiff of his cologne to deal with as well.
She concentrated on the lawns and banks of shrubbery. ‘A garden wedding would be perfect. Would you hire a caterer?’
‘That’s one of the things we need to discuss this weekend. But Bella’s a bit … distracted.’
‘Yes, her dad’s health is a big worry for her.’
Kent nodded, then let out a heavy sigh.
‘You’re worried, too,’ Zoe said, seeing the sudden tension in his face.
‘I have to be careful what I say around Bella, but I’m angry with her dad.’ Kent sighed again. ‘Don’t get me wrong. Tom Shaw’s a wonderful guy. In many ways he’s been my hero. But his wife died eighteen months ago and he dropped his bundle. He started drinking heavily, and now he has the beginnings of heart failure.’
‘From drinking?’
‘From drinking and generally not looking after himself.’ Kent’s hand fisted against the railing. ‘Bella’s beside herself, of course.’
‘I hadn’t realised his health was so bad,’ Zoe said with concern. ‘Poor Bell.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Kent spoke quietly, but with unmistakable determination. ‘I’ll look after her. And I’m damned if I’ll let Tom kill himself.’
Wow, Zoe thought. Kent had sounded so—so noble; he really was Bella’s knight in shining armour.
And clearly he was happy in that role. He was turning to Zoe now with a smile. ‘Bella said you’re going to be a great help with the wedding.’
‘I—I’m certainly happy to do all I can to help.’
‘She claims you’re a fabulous organiser and list-maker.’
‘I suppose I can be. I’ve never organised a wedding, but I quite like planning our office Christmas party. A smallish wedding won’t be too different.’ To Zoe’s dismay, her cheeks had grown very hot. She shot a quick glance out to the expanse of lawn. ‘I imagine you’d need to hire tables and chairs.’
‘Yes, definitely.’
‘And table cloths, crockery, glassware et cetera.’
‘I dare say.’ Kent flashed a gorgeous crooked smile. ‘If you keep talking like that you’ll land yourself a job, Zoe.’
And if he kept smiling at her like that she wouldn’t be able to refuse.
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS late on Sunday night before the girls arrived back in Brisbane. As Zoe drove they discussed practical matters—the style of wedding gowns and invitations, and the things they needed to hire for the garden reception. They were both tired, however, and, to Zoe’s relief, they spent much of the journey in reflective silence.
She dropped Bella off at her flat in Red Hill, declining her invitation to come in for a drink with the excuse that they both had another Monday morning to face in less than ten hours.
‘Thanks for spending the weekend with me,’ Bella said as she kissed Zoe’s cheek. ‘And thanks for offering to help Kent with organising the reception. Well, you didn’t actually offer, but thanks for agreeing when I pleaded. We all know I c
an’t organise my way out of a paper bag.’
‘That’s OK,’ Zoe responded glibly, hoping that she sounded much calmer than she felt about ongoing communication with Bella’s fiancé—even if it was only via email or telephone.
‘And thanks for taking your car, Zoe. So much better than bumping along in the old bus.’
‘My pleasure.’ However, Zoe couldn’t possibly share Bella’s opinion on this matter. If she hadn’t taken her car, she wouldn’t have had a flat tyre and she wouldn’t have had a private meeting with Kent. And her weekend would have been a darned sight easier.
‘Thanks for inviting me, Bell. It was—wonderful. You’re going to have the most gorgeous wedding ever.’
‘I know. I’m so lucky.’ Bella’s green eyes took on a wistful shimmer. ‘You do like Kent, don’t you?’
Zoe’s heart took a dive, but she forced a bright smile. ‘Of course. What’s not to like? He’s lovely. Perfect husband material. You should have snapped him up years ago.’
Bella smiled, looking genuinely happy now, as if she’d needed this reassurance. Then she grabbed the straps of her overnight bag, slammed the door and called, ‘See you in the morning.’
Zoe watched as Bella hurried up her front steps, pale hair shining in the glow cast by a streetlight, then she drove on, feeling the last of her strength ebb away.
All weekend she’d held herself together—remaining upbeat and excited for Bella’s sake, while keeping a lid on her own private turmoil. Dropping any interest in Kent had proved much harder than she’d expected, and now the ordeal was over she was totally drained. She just wanted to crawl into her own little space and let go.
Finally, she reached her flat in Newmarket, let herself into the kitchen, dumped her bag in the corner.
She loved her little home. For the first time in her life she had a proper place to call home that had four walls instead of four wheels.
First she checked her goldfish—Brian, Ezekiel and Orange Juice. They’d survived beautifully without her. Then she dashed out onto her balcony to make sure her pot plants were still alive.
Zoe had always kept pot plants, even when they were in the bus. Her mum said she’d inherited Granny Weston’s green thumb, and Zoe saw it as a sign that she was meant to have her own plot of land.
Bridesmaid Says, I Do! Page 3