And strangely enough, once I set my mind to getting the wedding planned, things began to take shape.
First was the venue. Of the three places that Lance and I had visited, the one that stood out most to me was the pavilion at the Derby track. It did seem perfect, in its own way. I'd always loved horses more than anything, and it would be the perfect blend of country relaxation and high-class, high society elegance.
"When's your next available opening?" I asked the short little stout woman who'd shown us around, as soon as I'd bullied my way through the opening conversational pleasantries.
I could feel the organizer squeezing her lips together in distaste at my direct, impolite question, but she opened up a book in front of her; I could hear the pages turning. "It looks like I've got an available time on Saturday morning in a little over a month," she admitted. "It might be a little chilly, given how early in the spring it will be, but I could also look further ahead and find a time that might be warmer-"
"No, that's not necessary," I interrupted. I knew that the organizer was gasping again - how dare I interrupt another person like that? Such affrontery! - but I had to get these words out before I second-guessed myself. "A month ahead sounds great. I'll take that time. Put me down for it."
"Of course, dear," the woman responded automatically, but then she paused before asking for my details. "But are you sure? You sound a little, well, tense-"
"I'm sure," I stated, doing my best to make the words sound strong and firm. Get these big details confirmed, and then my worry and stress would go away. It had to work.
"Well, okay, dear," the woman replied, after another little seconds-long pause that said far more than her words ever could. "I've got you marked down for that Saturday, then. The seventeenth. And if I can get your information, I'll send you a packet of the other details - parking, directions for the caterers, seating layout, and all of that."
"Thank you," I said, providing her with the information she needed.
As soon as I'd told her everything, however, I hung up the phone, tossing it down on the couch beside me and looking at it as if it was a live adder. I could feel my stomach churning a little, upset - or perhaps scared - at the commitment I'd just made.
"Well, no backing down now," I said aloud to myself. I had a location, and I had a date.
My next call was to Marsden. I didn't know whether I'd get him during the day, and sure enough, after a disconcerting number of rings, his answering machine kicked in and prompted me to leave a message for him to "call me back right away."
"Hey, honey," I said after the phone had beeped at me. "I just wanted to let you know that I've got a place and date for our wedding! It's the seventeenth, and I managed to get us a spot at the Derby's big pavilion. Won't that be a fun place to hold the ceremony? And we can have the dinner there, afterwards. Not that I've got the dinner set up yet, but that's next on my list."
I realized I was babbling, and quickly wrapped up the call. "Anyway, call me back and just let me know that you've marked the date," I finished. "Er, I think that's it. Can't wait! We've finally got a date set!"
It wasn't until I'd ended the call that I realized I never told Marsden that I loved him. I considered calling back and adding it, but that might just draw attention to my earlier lapse. And surely it had just been a little slip; my brain was busy rushing ahead to the next steps.
And those were food. Grabbing my computer and pulling it onto my lap, I began reading through reviews of all the local catering outfits, trying to figure out which one would work best.
Here, at least, I had a little experience. I recognized many of the names on the list from previous events in town, weddings and parties thrown by friends and other high society acquaintances. I picked out the top three and gave them each a call, asking if I could set up a chance to sit down and discuss hiring them to cater my wedding.
I left messages for two of the catering companies, but a young woman answered my call at the third company. "Carrie Forrest, From Scratch Catering!" she answered brightly. "What can I do for you today?"
"Er, hi!" I responded, not expecting to get a live person, but immediately feeling a little bit charmed by the woman's happy tones. "I'm calling about maybe getting a wedding catered? It's going to be the seventeenth, so a little over a month away."
"That's no problem!" Carrie responded right away, still sounding happy and chipper. "We don't have anything booked for that weekend. Would you like to set up a time soon to meet in person, to go over some of the details?"
I was a little surprised to find myself smiling. "Sure, that would be great," I replied. "What time would work for you?"
"Well, how about tonight? No reason to wait, if you're free! We can get everything decided with lots of time for you to panic and change your mind!"
I laughed a little at that last comment. This Carrie person had clearly dealt with brides before. Carrie giggled with me, her laughter clear and tinkling. Even though I'd never met this woman, I found myself already liking her.
"Tonight sounds great," I answered her, once my laughter had subsided. "By the way, my name is Jillian Monteclaire. Here's my address."
Carrie was silent for a moment, and I guessed that she was jotting down my address. "Okay, Jillian! I'll come by this evening, around seven," she said, once she'd confirmed the right address. "I'll bring some samples for tasting, and we can figure out all the details - courses, how many people, price, everything."
I froze for a moment. "Actually, I might still be a bit unclear on some of the details," I admitted guiltily. "I don't even have a guest list yet, so the numbers will be kind of fuzzy. Is that okay?"
"Oh, no problem," Carrie assured me quickly. "Even if we just figure out what sort of food you're considering, or where or when the wedding's going to be, or a potential theme, we'll have started! And that's the biggest, toughest step."
"It really is," I agreed, glad that we were on the same page. "Okay, Carrie, I'll see you tonight!"
"Toodles!" she exclaimed, hanging up.
I tossed my phone back down onto the couch beside me, already feeling exhausted from all of this planning. There were still a million more things to book and set up, I knew, but I decided that the rest of the arrangements could wait a little longer. I did have a full month still, after all.
Besides, I told myself, I did have another obligation this afternoon - the son of one of my acquaintances was coming by for a riding lesson! I figured that, given the cost of the wedding arrangements, I could use all the extra incoming money possible. I always enjoyed teaching others how to handle a horse, too.
Standing up, I glanced down at my clothes. I'd managed to dress myself this morning before diving into wedding planning, but my outfit - a tee shirt and a pair of fleece pajama pants - definitely wasn't suitable for climbing onto a horse. I'd have to change.
At least Lance wasn't around the house! After breakfast this morning, he'd headed out to go clear some brush from one of the further corners of my property. He insisted that the brush clearing was necessary for keeping the trails open, but I felt pretty sure that he just enjoyed getting to take Shadow out across my property. I doubted he spent more than an hour or so on actually clearing brush, instead just enjoying riding out on the open trails.
But could I fault him? I loved riding for that same reason.
In any case, he wasn't around the house, and I wouldn't have to worry about him walking in on me as I was changing, I pointed out to myself. That had been so embarrassing! Even now, days later, I occasionally found myself replaying the encounter in my head, remembering how he'd flushed red, but kept on staring at my chest as I tried to cover myself up.
Good thing Marsden didn't know about that!
I stood up from the couch, kicking off my pants as I climbed up the stairs, leaving them in a pile on the landing. Get changed, have some lunch, give my lesson, I thought to myself. After that, I could meet Lance as he came back from riding, let him know about Carrie stopping by this evening
, and then maybe try and call Marsden again.
My wedding was finally moving forward!
Chapter nineteen
"I like her," Lance commented to me, as we both waved goodbye to Carrie's little car as it drove down my darkened driveway, back out to the main road.
"Of course you do," I retorted. "She was making eyes at you and flirting with you all night! How could you not like her leaning over to give you as many flashes of her cleavage as she could manage?"
Despite my biting retort, however, I had to admit that I liked Carrie as well. She'd shown up right at seven o'clock on the dot, her hands filled with several Tupperware containers and practically bubbling over with energy.
I introduced myself to her and invited her into the kitchen, where Lance was finishing washing up the dishes from the evening's meal (grilled chicken breasts and a fresh garden salad, simple but delicious). Carrie quickly cannibalized the available counter space, spreading out the Tupperware containers she'd brought in.
"I decided to bring some samples of various things along," she explained, gesturing at the assorted containers. "Hopefully you two are still up for some tasting! I've got dinner food, hors d'oeuvres, and even some wedding cake samples, if you two want to just have me take care of everything!" She winked at me. "Trust me, I'm quite the baker!"
I opened my mouth to reply, but Lance turned and jumped in before me. "Actually, we're not together," he said. "I'm just living with Gilly, here. I'm not her fiancé."
Carrie blinked for a moment, but then recovered quickly. "Ah, I'm so embarrassed!" she exclaimed. "I just saw you in here, doing the dishes, and I assumed that the two of you were living together before getting married."
"That's okay," Lance answered, waving a hand to brush it off and returning to the dishes.
After a second's time for recovery, Carrie turned back to me, clapping her hands together. "Well, is the fiancé actually going to be here?" she asked. "If not, we can dive into the food right away without having to wait for him!"
I shook my head. I'd tried calling Marsden again, but once again I'd just gotten his voicemail. I left him a message to tell him that I was tasting food from a possible caterer, and inviting him over if he could make it, but he hadn't responded, and I knew better than to hold out hope that he would show up.
"I think it's just us," I said, pushing down the little sting of disappointment. "But Lance here is more than welcome to taste the food as well! He's got far more culinary talent than me, after all."
If my not having my fiancé around fazed Carrie at all, she did a great job of not showing it. "Hey, I'm always happy to hear nice things about my food!" she trilled, grabbing one of the nearby containers. "Let's start with the appetizers, then. This is all finger food for your guests before the wedding, or after the ceremony but before they're all seated for dinner. You can pick and choose your favorites, or pick out other ideas for me to try!"
The night passed in a happy swirl of tasting. I did have to admit that Carrie had an amazing hand at baking and cooking! Every item that she put in front of us tasted absolutely delicious. I found myself struggling to choose which bites I liked more than others!
The only little hiccup during the evening, as far as I could see, was that Carrie kept on glancing over at Lance, glances that definitely felt more than just friendly.
Once I caught the first couple glances, I saw more signs of her flirting as well. The young woman laughed quite uproariously at all of Lance's jokes and comments, and as she dashed around, bringing us different bites to taste, she kept on brushing up against my lodger. One time, I even glanced up to see her resting her fairly hefty breasts against the man's arm!
To his credit, Lance didn't appear to pay much attention - but how could the man miss the signs? Carrie was a good head shorter than him, probably only an inch or two over five feet, but she was built like a brick house, with a surprisingly thin waist separating round hips from an absolutely massive bust, put on good display by a tight, low-cut top. A couple of times, I even caught myself staring into her deep cleavage!
Hell, she even had blonde hair! I remembered my previous conversation with Lance, how he'd joked that he always went for the busty blondes. Well, here was his real life type, right in front of him and flirting like crazy!
It was a true sign of Carrie's sheer likeability that, despite the blatant flirting in front of me, I still found myself already thinking of her as my chosen caterer. Her food just tasted perfect, and whenever I made a request, no matter how small, she nodded and made a careful note of it in a little notebook she'd brought along. I felt as though the woman was truly listening to what I wanted, doing her best to make sure that it all happened just as I envisioned it in my mind.
Still, it kept on annoying me how insistently she flirted with Lance whenever she wasn't talking with me.
By the end of the evening, Carrie and I had worked out a working menu, and she gave me a rough quote on the price per head for the setup. It was a little high, I thought to myself, but not unreasonable. I explained to her that I wouldn't want to finalize hiring her until I had more wedding details sorted out, but I told her that she was at the top of the list - and Carrie had smiled, thanked me, and told me that this was more than enough for her, at least for now.
"Just be sure to let me know with a couple of weeks' advance notice, so I can make sure to get everything done in time!" she encouraged me, giving me a little hug before heading back down the steps to her little car.
Now, as we both waved goodbye to the caterer as she drove away, I glanced over at Lance. "Did you really not notice her flirting with you?" I asked.
He looked back down at me, shrugging one shoulder. "I noticed, but it didn't seem right," he replied. "What am I going to do, start sleeping with your caterer? Besides, she isn't really my type."
"Not your type?" I repeated. "Lance, she's blonde and with tits the size of my head! What more could you want?"
I had no idea why I was even asking my friend about this. What was I hoping to prove with this line of questioning? Was I just trying to catch Lance in a lie?
But the man stubbornly refused to give in. "Hey, I don't make the rules," he replied. "She did have some great cooking skills, however. Those baked little tarts and that wedding cake are both a lot harder to pull off than she made them seem."
"I did really like her food," I agreed. "I think she's my top choice - even if she does keep on flirting with you whenever she thinks that she can get away with it!"
Lance just chuckled back at me. "What's the matter, afraid that you're going to need to make the wedding a double event?" he asked, nudging me with his elbow.
I poked him back in the side. "Not funny! And no, I'm obviously not jealous. I'm the one who's engaged, after all, remember?"
I tried to hit him again with my elbow, but he dodged this one. "I didn't say anything about you being jealous," he remarked. "Anyway, I still have a little more cleanup to do in the kitchen. I'm going to go finish up."
And before I could reply, he turned and headed back into the farmhouse, leaving me standing out in the night.
I blinked, looking out at the darkness. I caught a little bit of movement from the pasture off to one side, as Merlot moved away from where he had also been watching the car drive away. Now that I replayed the conversation in my head, I realized that Lance was right - he hadn't said anything about me being jealous of Carrie flirting with him.
But I couldn't be jealous, could I? As I'd pointed out, I was the one getting married in a month, not him. Why would I be upset if someone else flirted with this other man who was most definitely not my fiancé?
Before I could delve any deeper into that mystery, however, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I pulled it out, and saw a text message from Marsden flashing on the screen. I unlocked the screen to read it.
"Hey, just saw ur message," the text message read. "Caterer still there? Food gud?"
I sighed, rolling my eyes. Of course he'd respond two hours late
. For the hundredth time, I wished that Marsden would get a bit more involved. This was his wedding, too, after all!
"She's gone," I replied, my fingers tapping on the screen. "Good food - I think she might be the best choice for caterer."
After a minute: "$$$?"
My eyes narrowed. "Does it matter? It's not like you're helping out with this," I typed impulsively, hitting send before I could think twice and delete the words.
I waited for another few minutes before heading inside, but there was no response forthcoming. Apparently Marsden had just chosen to withdraw and sulk.
I sighed as I stepped back indoors. When had my fiancé turned into such a withdrawn, complaining, disconnected baby? It felt as though he barely had any time for me at all.
Chapter twenty
I didn't hear from Marsden for two days.
But finally, as the weekend approached, I got a message from him. It was short, just two words: "Talk 2nite?"
I hesitated for a minute before texting back. A little part of me wanted to tell him no, make up some excuse for how I was busy. After all, whenever we came together as of late, it seemed to cause more problems than it fixed.
Still, I knew that we should try and heal whatever rift had grown up between us. We were getting married! And I did love the man, I insisted to myself. Surely, I could either find a way to tell him what was wrong, or at least simply manage to move past it.
So I picked up my phone and texted him back, letting my fiancé know that I was available all evening.
Out in the barn with Merlot, combing him down after a nice afternoon trot, I heard the rumble of the approaching car from outside. I quickly finished brushing down Merlot's flank, giving him a little pat on the side of the head and letting him nibble the last bit of chopped up apple out of my hand.
"Be good, you big brute," I ordered him kindly before stepping out of the barn, dusting my hands off on the thighs of my jeans.
Dark Horse: Bad Boy Cowboy Romance Page 9