Bridesmaid Says, I Do!

by Barbara Hannay

  ‘How did we let this happen so soon?’ she asked Kent.

  For answer, he hugged her closer, but even as warmth and pleasure seeped through her the impact of Bella’s phone call remained, lifting the lid on all the difficult questions she’d doggedly resisted for the past twenty-four hours. And one thing was certain—she couldn’t find answers to these questions while she was in Kent’s arms.

  With enormous reluctance she pulled away, went to the window and opened it, letting in a fresh breeze as if, somehow, that might clear her thoughts.

  ‘I never meant this to happen,’ she said. ‘After that kiss goodbye last weekend I decided we shouldn’t get too involved. It’s all too soon. Too convenient.’

  She looked down at her hands—rubbed the rough edge of a thumbnail. The real issue here was that Kent didn’t want to settle down. He’d said so last night. She, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to marry and start a family—to be the bride, not the bridesmaid. And Kent was exactly the sort of man … No, he was the only man she wanted to settle down with.

  She couldn’t tell him that. There was no point. ‘I can’t help worrying that this weekend has been a mistake,’ she said instead.

  ‘You mean you’re feeling pressured?’

  ‘Well, yes. I tried to tell you last night that we shouldn’t …‘ She shot him an accusing glance. ‘I’m sure you remember.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember.’ Kent’s slow smile made her wince.

  No doubt he was remembering the way she’d shamelessly climbed into his lap and kissed him as if there were no tomorrow. She was so hopelessly weak around him and last night she’d foolishly given in to that weakness.

  Now she was determined to be strong. ‘The thing is, I’ve been through something like this before, Kent.’

  He frowned. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I fell for a guy who’d recently broken off an engagement. He was a work colleague and I’d known him for about twelve months. I’d even met his fiancée, Naomi, at parties. A few months after their break-up he asked me out, and I conscientiously tried to cheer him up. All went well. He moved in with me and we lived together for another six months. Until—’

  Zoe paused for dramatic emphasis.

  ‘Until he let you down,’ Kent suggested.

  ‘Yes. I came home one Friday evening and found him in my bed with Naomi.’

  He scowled. ‘That’s a low-down act.’

  ‘That’s why I call him Rodney the Rat.’ Zoe closed her eyes at the memory. ‘He made me feel used and stupid and conned and hurt and angry. You name it—I felt it. I was devastated.’

  And now … she wouldn’t run the risk of being hurt again, surely? She’d been a fool to let herself fall for Kent so quickly and easily, when she’d spent the past week telling herself that it wasn’t wise.

  ‘Zoe, I swear I would never do anything to you like that.’

  ‘I know you wouldn’t hurt me intentionally, but I can’t help feeling vulnerable.’ Impatiently, she swept a lock of hair from her eyes. ‘Maybe I’m jumping the gun. We haven’t even talked about what we want from—from this. Are we having a fling—or—or—?’

  ‘I thought we were getting to know each other.’ He came to stand beside her again, and with his hands on her shoulders he turned her to look at him, trapping her with the dark, frank depths of his eyes. ‘We were honest with each other when we made love, weren’t we?’

  Zoe couldn’t deny there’d been a special openness and sincerity about last night. But that was the problem. To her, it had felt like so much more than a temporary fling and just thinking about it brought her to the edge of tears.

  She took a deep breath. If she played this the wrong way, she would lose Kent, and live to regret it deeply. But her bigger fear was that she’d keep seeing him for several more weeks and then the novelty would wear off for him. To spend more time with him and then lose him would be so much worse. Unbearable.

  The hard truth was that every moment she spent with Kent was dangerous. She’d been falling more deeply in love with him since the moment she’d met him beside the road side. If she didn’t apply the brakes now, before she was in any deeper, she could end up very badly hurt. Again.

  It was important now to list her extremely valid concerns.

  ‘Kent, until last weekend, you were all set to marry my best friend. You were ready to vow to love her till you were parted by death.’

  A muscle jerked in his jaw. ‘But you know why we called it off.’

  ‘Yes, I do. And I can understand why you want to move on with your life. But I’m not sure it’s a great idea to move straight on to the bridesmaid, as if I was there, ready and waiting—like the next cab on the rank.’

  Zoe knew it was a cheap shot, and a sound like a growl broke from him. Anger flashed in his eyes and he looked so unlike his calm, easy-going self that she almost backed down and apologised. But then where would she be? In his arms with nothing sorted? Nothing solved?

  Kent’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you asking me to leave?’

  No, no, no. That wasn’t what she wanted at all. How could she let him go? She’d been so looking forward to this evening—to their shared meal, and the long night after—and then, all of Sunday still ahead of them. And their future …

  She dropped her gaze to the floor. It was too hard to think when Kent was standing right there all gorgeous and frowning in front of her.

  Be strong, Zoe.

  She took a deep breath before she spoke. ‘Perhaps we just need space to sort things out—a sort of cooling-off period.’ She hoped she didn’t sound as miserable as she felt.

  Kent remained very still, and his dark eyes, usually so warm and sparkling, remained severe and narrowed. ‘Cooling-off period? So what’s that? Forty-eight hours? Four weeks?’

  I don’t know! she wanted to wail.

  Kent, however, had made his decision. ‘It’s clear I should go.’ Stepping forward, he dropped a light kiss on her cheek. ‘I’ll be in touch, then.’ And just like that, he was heading out of her kitchen.

  Zoe wanted to call him back.

  Don’t you want dinner? It’s a long drive back to Willara. She shot a desperate glance to the sauce-spattered stove. They’d cooked all this pasta.

  But what about your things? she almost called out, until she remembered that Kent hadn’t brought any luggage. He’d slept naked, and used her spare toothbrush—because he hadn’t planned to stay.

  Everything that had happened this weekend had been wonderfully spontaneous and.

  And now she’d spoiled it.

  Stumbling behind him through the flat, she swiped at embarrassing tears. When they reached her front door, Kent turned to her again, looking so desperately stern and handsome Zoe could barely breathe.

  ‘I guess I need to get this straight,’ he said. ‘While we’re cooling off, what exactly are we sorting out?’

  Zoe gulped. Her mind was swirling. What could she say? Was this the time for painful honesty? What else could she offer him? ‘I’m worried that I’m not the right girl for you, Kent.’

  He stood, wary-eyed, waiting for her to continue.

  Now that she’d started, she had no choice but to confess. ‘I’m afraid I’m very keen on you, keener than you realise. And I don’t think you’d want to deal with that right now.’ Taking a deep breath, she rushed on. ‘To be honest, I’m in love with the whole picture of you and your farm and your country lifestyle.’

  Kent didn’t speak. Perhaps he was stunned, or simply puzzled.

  And Zoe realised, now, too late, that it had been a mistake to mention any of this, but she felt compelled to explain. ‘It started when I was little, living in a bus and always looking out of the window at snug farmhouses in the middle of neat, tidy fields. I thought they looked so wonderful and I developed this fantasy of marrying a farmer one day.’

  ‘So I’m a fantasy?’ he queried, looking uncomfortable. ‘Along with a country wedding?’

  Oh, God. Too much informatio
n.

  ‘I’m making a hash of this,’ Zoe said. ‘I didn’t mean that the only reason I like you is because you’re a farmer.’

  ‘OK.’ He lifted a hand as if to put a stop to the conversation. ‘This is getting way too complicated.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t apologise, but I take your point about a cooling-off period. I guess it’s a good idea.’

  Thud. It was ridiculous to be disappointed as soon as he agreed to the very thing she’d asked for. Zoe’s throat was suddenly a scalding knot of unshed tears.

  Already he was turning to leave, but she couldn’t speak, was too busy keeping her lips pressed together to hold back embarrassing sobs.

  ‘Take care,’ he said gently, before he went swiftly down her steps to his ute.

  Driving west against the fierce glare of the setting sun, Kent had never felt less like cooling off.

  He was fired up. Burning.

  Angry with himself.

  Last week he’d been a step from marrying Zoe’s best friend, and a week later he’d leapt straight into her bed. What was he thinking?

  Of course it was a hasty, rash and thoughtless act. If one of his mates had behaved the same way, Kent would be wondering if the guy’s actions were driven by a bruised ego, or by his brains dropping below his belt!

  Zoe had every right to ask questions—questions he should have asked himself.

  What did he want from this relationship? Was it a casual fling? Did he expect to follow his old pattern, to date her for a month or so, and then drift away?

  He certainly hadn’t been thinking about the long term.

  After last week’s close brush with the responsibility and permanence of matrimony, he’d been set free, so to speak. He was free to embrace his old ways and his plan was to prolong his bachelorhood for as long as he could.

  But did he honestly expect a conscientious girl like Zoe to treat their relationship lightly? After her past weeks of hard work and dedication, shouldn’t he have known better? After she’d made love with such breathtaking spontaneity and touching emotion, shouldn’t he have known their liaison was already complicated?

  Hell. Zoe had told him about her rat of a boyfriend, and he’d been so self-righteous.

  I would never do anything to you like that. What a fool he was.

  Selfish, too. He’d wanted a little fun after the tension and drama of the past weeks, and Zoe had been available. How had she put it? The next cab at the rank.

  And yet—that wasn’t how he thought of her. Zoe was special, amazing in so many ways—the kind of girl he could, quite possibly, marry one day … if he’d had plans to settle down.

  Maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised by her confession that she had feelings for him and wanted to marry, that she’d always wanted to be a farmer’s wife, for heaven’s sake.

  But he hadn’t seen it coming, and now, instead of relaxing after a pleasant weekend, he had a lot to think about. Too much. Not a chance of cooling off.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  IT WAS ten-thirty when the delivery boy arrived at the office doorway. At least, Zoe assumed it was the delivery boy, although all she could see of him were his jeans and his grubby green and yellow sneakers. The top half of him was entirely obscured by the biggest bunch of flowers she’d ever seen.

  As the flowers appeared there was a collective gasp from every female in the office. The girl at the desk nearest to Zoe stopped a phone conversation in mid-sentence. Someone else gave an excited little squeal.

  Mandy, whose desk was closest to the door, got out of her seat and practically tiptoed in awe towards the mountain of blooms.

  Zoe was as curious as anyone else as she exchanged smiles with her workmates. She knew everyone was trying to guess who the lucky recipient could be. Emily had recently announced she was pregnant. Joanne was turning forty soon. Jane had acquired a new and, apparently, ultra-romantic boyfriend.

  At least, Zoe knew the flowers couldn’t be for her. The only person who might send them was Kent and he’d embraced her cooling-off suggestion with depressing enthusiasm. It was three weeks now since she’d seen him. Three desperately miserable weeks.

  In all that time, she’d made no attempt to contact him and he’d only been in touch once to report that, despite the terrible weather in the north, Bella and Damon were apparently OK. There’d been nothing personal in his message. Not a breath of romance.

  The silence had been awful. At times Zoe had felt so miserable, she’d almost weakened and begged him to forget everything she’d said.

  Fortunately, she’d restrained herself. She’d done enough damage last time when she’d talked about loving him. Of course she’d frightened him off.

  If she’d handled everything sensibly, they would have continued to see each other on weekends and who knew what pleasing developments might have occurred?

  Now, in just a few days, she would be leaving for Europe, so there was no point in even thinking about what might have been with Kent. Instead, she was hoping and praying that the exciting new foreign sights and experiences would cheer her up, and help her to put the whole Willara experience behind her.

  At any rate, she could relax right now. There was absolutely no chance these flowers were for her.

  At the doorway, the floral Mount Everest was handed over to Mandy, who had to turn sideways to see where she was going as she made her way carefully back into the centre of the office.

  ‘Help, someone!’ she called. ‘I’m sure there’s a card pinned on here, but I can’t possibly reach it.’

  Zoe jumped to assist her. The bouquet was so huge, it took a few moments to locate the small white envelope, but she finally found it pinned beneath a cascade of lavender orchids.

  ‘Here!’ she cried, triumphantly waving the small white envelope above her head like a trophy.

  ‘Who’s it for?’ cried several voices. All eyes in the room were on Zoe. She saw smiles of amusement, wistful faces filled with hope, others wide eyed with genuine tension. The air was shimmering with palpable excitement.

  Suddenly the centre of attention, Zoe felt her heartbeats begin a drum roll as she deliberately took her time looking at the name on the envelope. Then she dropped her gaze to the white square of paper. And her heart stopped beating altogether.

  There … on the envelope in clear blue ink …

  Zoe Weston.

  There was a painful thump in the centre of her chest, and then her heart began to pound savagely. She hadn’t expected, hadn’t dreamed. The paper in her hand was shaking.

  Everyone was watching her.

  ‘Oh, gosh.’

  ‘Who’s it for?’ Mandy demanded.

  Almost apologetically, Zoe said, ‘Me.’

  At first there was silence. Then a voice cried, ‘Oh, wow! Congratulations!’ But for Zoe this was almost drowned out by her thundering heartbeats.

  Her hands were shaking so badly, she had a hard time getting the little card out of the envelope, but finally she was able to read it.

  I’d like to talk. How about you?

  Kent xx

  A thrill burst inside her like fizzing champagne.

  ‘Who’s it from?’ called Jane.

  Zoe hesitated. Many of these girls had been to Willara Downs for the bridal shower. ‘Just a guy,’ she said lamely. As you did.

  The response was a predictable group groan.

  ‘If a guy sends a bouquet the size of a house he must be asking you to marry him at the very least,’ someone said.

  ‘Or perhaps he’s been a very, very bad boy and he’s very, very sorry,’ said someone else.

  Zoe shook her head, but she wasn’t about to tell them: he just wants to talk. She was still trembling as she took the flowers from Mandy and stumbled off to hunt for a bucket to put them in.

  In a back room she found a metal waste-paper bin, and she filled it with water. With the flowers taken care of, she sank back against a filing cabinet and read Kent’s note again.

 
; I’d like to talk. How about you?

  Every possible emotion raged war inside her. Joy. Hope. Fear. Uncertainty.

  Kent was opening a door, trying to reconnect, and she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than to see him again.

  But in a few days she would be flying to the other side of the world, and she’d be away for a month. Surely her sudden impatience to see him was foolish.

  Just because he’s sent me a bunch of flowers?

  But I love him.

  Did she? Really?

  She’d had enough time to think about it, to try to work out if she was actually in love with the real man and not with an embodiment of her childhood fantasy.

  She found herself asking how anyone ever knew for certain that they were truly in love. In three weeks her longing to see Kent had been agonising. Was that love?

  Was love ever safe and certain, or was it always a great big gamble?

  She reminded herself again, as she had so often in the past three weeks, of her headlong rush into love with Rodney. She’d been so certain he was The One.

  She’d been such a diligent girlfriend, so anxious to please Rodney, cooking his favourite meals, hiring his favourite DVDs. She’d been so busy showing him how devoted she was, she’d never stopped to make sure he felt the same way.

  Being dumped by him had awoken every one of her insecurities. Once again she’d been an outsider, without a best mate.

  Lately, she’d even wondered if she had poor judgement when it came to men. Perhaps it would be much more sensible to wait to talk to Kent after she got back from her travels. Mightn’t she gain a clearer perspective with the benefit of further time and distance?

  At lunchtime, Zoe divided the flowers into smaller bunches and handed them out among her surprised work colleagues.

  ‘There’s no point in taking them home to my place,’ she explained over and over. ‘I’m leaving for Europe on the weekend. You may as well enjoy them.’

  The only flowers Zoe saved were the lavender orchids, which she took home and placed in a vase on the shelf beside the fish tank.

  That was the easy part. Deciding how to deal with Kent was the difficult bit. She had to ring him to thank him, and there shouldn’t be any harm in a phone call. Just the same, she had to be careful not to say too much. Now, when she was about to leave, she certainly couldn’t let on how much she’d missed him.