by Laura Moore
He doubted that even Quinn, as determined and clever as she was, would succeed in orchestrating a way to duck out of these functions. But he was rooting for her…for them.
Not that he wasn’t enjoying himself. The Knowleses were hoteliers, Tess an obviously talented events planner. They knew how to have a good time. And the dinner with his parents offered an opportunity to erase some of the worry lines on their faces. In Bethesda, they’d been etched deep.
His mother reached out and laid her hand on his arm again, giving it a squeeze. “You look so well, darling. I can’t wait to see Adele and Daniel so I can thank them for all they’ve done. We were so afraid…” Her voice faltered.
His father spoke to give Ethan’s mother a moment to recover her equilibrium. “So what are your plans? Will you look for a place in Washington or stay here in New York?”
“Neither. I’m going back to Acacia. I’m taking a job at Silver Creek as a ranch hand.”
It was a testament to their previous concern that his father and mother didn’t immediately exclaim, But what about your project?
“Oh,” his mother said. “We thought, we hoped…”
“That since you’re in New York, you’d be seeing your editor,” his father inserted.
“Erin seemed to believe so, at least,” his mother finished.
He frowned. “You’ve been in touch with her?”
“Of course, Ethan. So many people care about you. Erin called on Christmas, hoping for word of how you were doing.” His mother’s voice was gentle, softening the reproach.
Quashing the guilt that rose inside him, he exhaled and then nodded. “I won’t have time to see Erin—we’re taking a noon flight back the day after the wedding. But I’ll send her an email, bring her up to date.” He’d avoid a telephone call, though. It would open the door for exactly this type of exchange, where he was reminded of what he’d been, what he was supposed to be doing. “I like being at Silver Creek.”
“Of course you do. It’s wonderful there. You always loved it as a boy.”
“I’m also involved with Quinn Knowles.”
From the happiness that lit their faces, he realized he should have announced that he and Quinn were an item the second they sat down. It would have spared them even a second of awkward dancing around the nontopic of his photography project.
“Quinn? Little Quinn?” his mother said breathlessly.
He intended to tease Quinn with that nickname later tonight. “She’s grown-up now.” In all the right ways, he added silently. He then proceeded to tell them stories about Quinn’s goats, Bowie and Sooner, her adoption of Tucker—he even found a few kind words to say about Alfie.
“Well, this is terrific. Just terrific,” his dad repeated. “Of course you should be at Silver Creek. Everything will fall into place eventually.”
He smiled, choosing to ignore the implication that he’d return to his photography. He’d found his peace. It was with Quinn at Silver Creek Ranch. Nothing was going to change his mind.
—
It was midmorning, the day of the wedding. Ethan and Quinn had indulged in a delicious breakfast in bed, feeding each other bites of flaky croissant and cups of intensely strong espresso—the Waldorf’s kitchen had quickly learned her preferences—and cuddling beneath the cloud-white covers. Then, while he lounged beneath the sheets and eavesdropped shamelessly, she’d called Lorelei and Mel for her daily update.
The animals were all fine, but that didn’t stop Quinn from quizzing both friends like a nervous mother apart from her newborn for the first time. It was adorable.
“So, they’re all good?” he asked after she’d said goodbye to Lorelei.
“Yup. Gertrude stole Lorelei’s mitten and ate it. Man, I miss them.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Come here and let’s see whether I can put a smile on your face,” he suggested, crooking his finger.
She gave him a look and then, with a laugh, launched herself in a flying tackle. One of her hands landed on his shoulder and he winced involuntarily.
“Oh my God, did I hurt you?” she asked, pulling down the sheet to inspect him.
“No, I’m good.” He rolled the joint in its socket, then winced again exaggeratedly. “On second thought, why don’t you kiss it better?”
Later they showered, and then Quinn insisted on packing so she wouldn’t be rushed and frantic tomorrow morning before they left for the airport.
“You want me to check us in? I’m sure the concierge can print out the boarding passes.”
“No, I’ll do all that when I go downstairs to wait for the limo. I’ve got to stop by the front desk and thank the staff for the exceptional service anyway.”
That was Quinn through and through. For all her laid-back quirkiness, she was thoughtful and 100 percent professional.
“Okay, if you insist.”
“Mmm. I like to do these things myself.” Keeping her gaze fixed on the silk shirt she was folding, she laid it in the suitcase. “There,” she said, giving the folded pile of clothes a pat. “That’s everything except my toiletries and what I’m wearing home tomorrow.”
“And your bridesmaid’s dress. You sure I can’t have a preview?”
His question earned a quick smile. “No way, buster.”
Quinn was being endearingly coy. She hadn’t let him see the dress, keeping it stowed in a garment bag. He decided that it was a waste of breath to tell her again that the wow factor whenever he looked at her had yet to dissipate, that it never would. She simply couldn’t fathom what she did to him.
“Okay, then.” She turned to kiss him on the lips. “Ciao. Off to make Tess the most beautiful bride ever.”
He caught her by the wrist and drew her to him for another, deeper kiss. “See you at the church. Will I even recognize you?”
“You’d better. I’d hate for you to kiss another woman like that.”
He was still grinning when he finished dressing in a black suit, a snow-white shirt, and a slate-gray textured silk tie. He took a moment to inspect his image. His teeth were brushed. His hair was neatly trimmed, his cheeks freshly shaved. And his black oxfords had been polished to a soft gleam. He’d do.
At the Catholic church where Tess had been baptized and confirmed and would now be wed by the very same priest, he and Lucas, Anna’s boyfriend, would usher the guests to their seats and then stand at the ready should the aide who was with Tess’s older brother, Christopher, require help assisting Chris out of the church.
It was Adele who’d drafted Ethan into serving as an usher. He was happy to oblige her. Like Quinn, Adele was smart, independent, and competent. Yet that didn’t stop a man from wanting to please either woman.
With Quinn, he wanted even more. He’d do anything to make her happy.
Whistling, he took the elevator to the lobby to catch a ride with Lucas to Queens.
—
The church was filled with the quiet, expectant murmur of voices and the rustle of paper as the seated guests, sleekly coiffed and garbed, chatted amongst themselves and studied the printed wedding program. Ethan stood by the large entryway, the carved wooden doors thrown open in anticipation of the bride.
The limo had arrived.
At the altar, Ward stood tall in his tuxedo. Reid and Brian Nash, similarly dashing, flanked him. All three men’s attention fixed on the open doorway.
The opening strains of Handel’s Water Music Suite No.1: Air, which Tess had chosen for the processional, sounded, and into the space walked Tess Casari, lightly grasping her father’s arm.
She was a vision in ivory and lace. A light veil floated over her face, and her gown’s train pooled behind her. A collective sigh of happiness, of pleased admiration, wafted into the air as Tess approached the altar and the man waiting for her there.
Something like a sigh escaped Ethan’s lips, too, but his stunned sound of appreciation had been for the blonde walking three paces ahead of the bride. In a rose-gold dress that skimmed her body like a worshipful lover
’s hands, Quinn was heart-stoppingly beautiful. Her long hair had been twisted and pinned into a loose chignon that highlighted the elegant bones of her face and the length of her slender neck. The makeup artist hadn’t needed to do much to enhance her features, and yet her eyes sparkled bluer than ever and her lips were a soft, lush pink that made him hunger for their sweetness. She glowed. Her beauty shone almost painfully bright.
He imagined that Ward, watching Tess close the distance separating them, shared the same thought as he. What had he done to deserve this woman in his life?
THE WEDDING WAS over. It had been flawless and deeply moving. After the Mass, the exchange of vows, and the tender kiss Ward and Tess had shared, Tess had broken with ceremony in the most wonderful way: she and Ward had gone directly to Tess’s brother, and Christopher, his aide, the rest of the Casari family, and the newlyweds had walked together out into the late-winter afternoon. There hadn’t been a dry eye in the church.
As predicted, Anna and her staff at the trattoria had pulled out all the stops. The tables were decorated in a symphony of white hydrangeas, roses, peonies, and calla lilies. Ropes of ivy were woven among them. Candles in glass holders and in sconces attached to the walls cast a warm glow. The dinner itself was a feast for the senses, with bowls of sorbetto to cleanse the palate between courses. Wine had flowed freely. The dinner’s triumphant conclusion was the wedding cake, a sponge cake soaked in liqueur, its layers filled with whipped cream and raspberry jam, each slice served with a tulle pouch containing candied almonds to symbolize the bitter and the sweet in life.
After the flutes had been filled with prosecco, Reid stood and gave his speech as best man.
Quinn knew her brother had worked hard on his speech, but the best part was when he veered away from his prepared words to talk about what had moved him most at the wedding—not the last few minutes of the ceremony, when Tess and Ward exchanged their first kiss as man and wife, but rather the moment when Tess had chosen to walk out of the church holding on to both her older brother’s and Ward’s hands.
“It was beautiful, because that’s exactly what Tess is: beautiful inside and out.” With a smile Reid raised his glass to her. “Evviva gli sposi!”
Around the rustic interior, cries of “Evviva gli sposi!” echoed Reid’s. Laughter and applause erupted as Tess rose and kissed Reid, and Ward and he embraced heartily.
When the music began and Tess and Ward took to the floor, Ethan found Quinn. “Hey, how are you?”
She swallowed. “Honestly? A little teary and a lot choked up. It was wonderful, wasn’t it? Every moment, beginning to end. And Reid’s and Anna’s speeches rocked.”
“So, a good wedding.”
“Yes. It feels strange to admit it,” she said with a shaky laugh. “But this was a very, very good wedding. Tess was radiant.”
“She was.” His fingers clasped hers and squeezed gently. “Have I mentioned that when I saw you enter the church, you took my breath away?”
Oh God, Ethan was tearing her heart to pieces with his tenderness. A part of her wanted to run to the table where she’d left her beaded clutch, dig out her phone, and start making frantic calls, canceling the plans she’d set in place. Ethan was everything she wanted. What if she lost him?
He raised his hand and rubbed her trembling lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “Come dance with me.”
For a second she stared up at him, drinking him in. She hadn’t had a chance to comment on how suave and cosmopolitan he looked in his perfectly cut suit, crisp white shirt, and tie that matched his eyes. With her heart and mind in turmoil, words were difficult.
“Hey, why the sad face, sweetheart?”
She gave a slight shake of her head and pinned a smile to her lips. “Too many emotions, that’s all.”
With her smile in place, she stepped into the circle of his arms, hating that she knew exactly how much time was left before they would have to leave. Hating, too, that Ethan would follow her with that sexy gleam in his eyes she loved so well. They would walk out of the restaurant with his hand resting protectively, possessively, on her lower back.
Of course the song the DJ played next was an Italian one.
She caught the words ti amo, and even with her limited Italian, Quinn understood their meaning.
Their gazes held for a second before he pulled her close, her head resting against his chest, the silk of her dress brushing his trouser legs. As one, they began to sway to the beat. His scent—clean notes of soap, citrus, and wood—filled her, so familiar and yet so potent, just like Ethan himself. She closed her eyes and forgot everything but the sweetness of being in his arms, stealing these last few moments for herself.
The song was nearing its end when Ethan’s feet came to an abrupt halt. Opening her eyes, she looked up. Tony Saunders was standing beside Ethan.
“May I cut in and claim a dance with this beautiful woman?” he asked with a smile.
Ethan raised a brow. “Only with the greatest reluctance, and because I happen to know you’re a happily married man.” Angling his head, he whispered in Quinn’s ear, “To be continued, sweetheart,” before releasing her and stepping back.
—
It was another slow dance, the DJ doubtless intending to please the older guests before the night grew wilder. Just as well—Quinn wasn’t up to busting a move on the rented dance floor. And she sensed that Ethan’s father’s request to dance stemmed from a desire to talk privately rather than boogie down.
Ethan had inherited his father’s lean build and coloring. While Tony’s eyes were a paler shade of gray, they shared the same piercing intelligence.
“How are you, Tony? It’s so good to see you and Cheryl. Too many years have passed.”
“Yes, it’s definitely been too long, but I would have recognized that smile of yours anywhere, even now that you have all your teeth.” His laughter joined hers and there was still a thread of it in his voice when he continued. “Right now I’m happier than I have been in many months. Ethan has healed better than I could have hoped.”
She didn’t miss his meaning. “So you see it, too.”
“Since he landed his first photography assignment, Ethan’s traveled the world and seen so much. But I think being embedded with these soldiers changed him. He was with them for such a long and intense period that they stopped being simply the subjects of his documentary. The friendships he made, the camaraderie they enjoyed, those things touched him. To have lost those very same friends in the IED attack when he was spared…well, you’ve glimpsed the scars he carries.”
“Yes, I have. Both inside and out.”
For a moment neither spoke as they followed the music’s notes.
“You know what else I would have recognized anywhere, Quinn? Your generous spirit. You may not remember this, and for that matter Ethan might not, either, but you were always rooting for him when he was learning how to rope cattle. There’s a memory I have of listening to you talk to him as he was leading you on that pony. You told him that the next time he roped a steer, he’d be as fast as your dad. Ethan came awfully close. I like to think it was because you believed in him that he did so well.” He paused a beat. “I’ve heard from Erin Miller a little of your plan.”
She raised her head to look into his kind eyes.
“I doubt my saying that Ethan’s a man who follows his own path is news to you, Quinn. He can be stubborn as a mule. But I think that of all the people who love him, he’s least likely to ignore you.”
“I’m afraid he won’t forgive me.”
“It may be that first he needs to forgive himself.”
—
Ethan was holding three flutes of prosecco when Quinn and his dad stepped off the dance floor. After they’d clinked glasses and toasted again to Ward and Tess’s happiness, Ethan said, “You haven’t lost your moves, Dad.”
“Your mom likes to have date nights at the Jam Cellar. Speaking of which, it’s time Cheryl and I do a little showing off.” Taking Quinn’s ha
nd, he raised it to his lips in a courtly gesture. “A pleasure, Quinn. Let’s keep in touch.”
“He’s smitten,” Ethan observed as his father moved off.
“He’s charming.”
“Many people say I take after him.”
She could see it. Especially when Tony and Cheryl took to the dance floor. It was there in his athletic grace, the way he angled his head to gaze into his wife’s eyes, the way he smiled.
She made a show of squinting. “You sure you weren’t adopted?”
He laughed. “From my mother’s labor stories, I think not. At the risk of spreading more doubt in your mind, now that you’ve seen my dad twirl my mom around, do you care to dance?”
Not enough time left. The car service would be arriving in fifteen minutes. “Actually, I need to use the ladies’ room. And then I was thinking that maybe you and I could slip away.”
“Your duties are over?” When she nodded, he said, “By all means. I’ve been waiting to get you to myself.”
—
She found Anna talking to one of her waiters. The man smiled at Quinn and then with a nod slipped through the kitchen’s swinging door, leaving them alone.
“Anna, do you have anything I can use as a blindfold? It’s to surprise Ethan.”
Amazingly, Anna didn’t question the request. “Lucky devil. He’s totally got my stamp of approval, by the way. Hang on, I’ve got just the right thing.”
Quinn waited by an abandoned table—the dance floor was getting crowded—and made sure to avoid eye contact with any of the guests so that no one would approach.
Anna returned a couple of minutes later. “Here you go.” She smiled as she pressed a folded silk square into Quinn’s hand.
The black and white pattern was distinctive. Given its history, it was unforgettable. Quinn stared at it warily. “Anna, wait. Isn’t this your grandmother’s scarf?”
“Good for you for recognizing it. I brought it with me today in case Tess needed to ‘borrow’ something, but your mom had already lent her those gorgeous pearl earrings.”