The Wedding Guest (Colorado Billionaires Book 5)

by Regina Duke

  Madlyn laughed.

  Kirby wagged his brows at her. “Connecticut here we come.”

  “Is it far?”

  “Nothing is far on the east coast. Maybe thirty minutes, if I don’t get too lost. I haven’t driven this route for a while.”

  Madlyn chatted amiably, comparing Route 22 to the wide-open two-lane roads of her Colorado home. “Pawling seems claustrophobic to me. Stuck in between the hills, with all those trees standing like a gray army at attention.”

  Kirby said, “You have a poetic soul.”

  “My ex called it silly.”

  Kirby made a disgruntled noise. “What did he do for a living? Government worker?”

  Madlyn laughed. “He’s a cop in L.A. He used to be a cop in Eagle’s Toe, but he wanted to get more experience with real crime. Last I heard, he wanted to go on to the FBI someday.” She stopped, surprised. “And that would make him a government worker, wouldn’t it?”

  Kirby grinned.

  “What do you do, Kirby?”

  His grin froze in place. He pretended to be focused on maneuvering the spaghetti-noodle entrance to Danbury Fair Mall. Once in the parking lot, he asked innocently, “I’m sorry. What were you asking?”

  “What do you do? I mean, besides driving Brewster around.”

  Kirby did a quick mental inventory of his latest hobbies. Skiing, snowboarding, mountain biking, writing, all at the amateur level. At last he picked one that felt safe. “I’m a writer. Or at least I hope to be.”

  “That’s wonderful! Are you selling on Amazon?” She pulled out her phone.

  Seized by a moment of panic, Kirby covered her hand with his. “Not yet! I mean, I’m still learning my craft.”

  “Oh. That’s why you work for Brewster. Of course. I understand.” Madlyn tucked her phone away. “I’ll be sure to buy your first book. Fiction or non-fiction?”

  “Fiction,” said Kirby. “But it’s pretty dark. You probably wouldn’t like it.” He sifted through his current works in progress and shuddered.

  “I like thrillers,” said Madlyn. “And romance,” she confessed. “I love romance novels. Do you think that’s shallow?”

  Kirby was taken aback. “Not at all. Some of the world’s great literature can be classified as romance.”

  Madlyn smiled warmly. “That’s very sweet of you to say.” She seemed to notice their surroundings for the first time. “This is Connecticut? It’s so pretty here. And hurray, the sun is shining! I’ll leave my jacket in the car.”

  Kirby took advantage of the change of subject to get out of the car. Why had he said he was a writer? What if she wanted to see his work? He should have said snowboarder. He cursed himself as he went around to get Madlyn’s door. First he misled her about his wealth. Now he was inventing fanciful careers for himself. What would she think when she found out everything he told her was a lie?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  By three o’clock, Madlyn was more than happy to settle into the BMW and rest her feet while Kirby drove them back to Pawling. She’d investigated every shop in the mall, checking for retail display ideas and doing some shopping. Her poor credit card was straining under the load of packages that Kirby deposited in the back seat. He’d insisted that she select a replacement for the blouse Pearl had ruined, and she finally did so, reluctantly. The price tag nearly gave her apoplexy. But he paid for it with a smile.

  “I hope you don’t think I shop like this all the time,” she said as he started the car.

  He seemed puzzled by the question. “Would that be a bad thing?”

  Madlyn made a rude sound. “I’d be in the poor house if I did. Most of the things I bought are gifts. Something for Mom, something for Dad, and of course, I had to get Mina something. She’s my boss, but also my friend. She taught me everything I know about retail. I hope she can find funding for her expansion. I’m afraid if she can’t, she might decide to retire. And then where will I be?”

  Kirby shrugged. “You could open a shop of your own.”

  “Ha! Right. Very funny.” She adjusted her seatbelt. “No, I’d probably have to work in Pueblo.” She gazed sadly out the window. “What about you? What would you do if you didn’t work for Brewster?”

  “Hmmm? Oh. Well, I suppose I’d get a job as a ski instructor. In the winter.”

  “Great idea! Then you could write in the evenings. How long before you publish your first book?”

  Kirby gave a noncommittal shrug. “I suppose that will depend on my editor.”

  “Your book is being edited already?”

  “Er, no, not yet. I meant when I finally turn it in to my editor.”

  “Oh. In that case, you’ll need summer work, too. If you’re an athlete, I bet you could be a personal trainer.”

  Kirby cocked a brow. “Hey, that’s a great idea. I wish I’d thought of that.”

  Madlyn laughed. “You’re funny. I like that in a guy.”

  Kirby smiled.

  Suddenly a cockatoo shrieked from his pocket.

  Madlyn screamed. “What was that?”

  Kirby fumbled for his phone. “Sorry. That’s Brewster.” He put the phone to his ear and frowned at the road ahead. “Yes?” He sounded worried.

  Madlyn wondered if he’d played hooky from work to take her to Danbury, but a moment later, his voice relaxed.

  “Oh, of course. Yes, I suppose we should make an appearance. No news from the City? Good. Fine. See you soon.” He put the phone away.

  Madlyn smiled brightly at him. “Everything okay?”

  Kirby nodded. “As well as it can be. I hope you don’t mind, but we need to make an appearance at the Manse before heading back to the B&B.”

  “Whatever you say. You’re the chauffeur.” She brightened. “Say, if you ever need another job while you’re finishing your book, there are lots of people in Eagle’s Toe who hire chauffeurs.”

  “Indeed? I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Madlyn felt her cheeks burning. She was appalled by her inability to keep her mouth closed. Why didn’t she just come right out and tell him she wished he lived in Colorado? Or that she thought he was incredibly handsome? Or that she’d let him drive her around any day? She forced herself to stare out the side window, until they got close to Pawling and she had to start looking straight ahead again to fight off the waves of carsickness that threatened to overcome her as they navigated the curves.

  Instead of driving through the village to the B&B, Kirby turned up Quaker Hill Road, an even narrower road than the one they’d left. As they wound their way upward, he said, “General Washington and his troops were camped out on Quaker Hill during the Revolutionary War. If I remember correctly, it was 1778. The locals still talk about it.”

  Madlyn said, “I think I read something about that in one of the brochures in my room. I can see why this terrain would be great for hiding out from the British.”

  “It flattens out once we get up on top,” said Kirby. As he spoke, the road leveled out and green pastures and white fences stretched on either side of the road as far as the eye could see. Large homes peeked out from behind trees, set far back from the road. Well fed, glossy horses grazed without a care in the world.

  Madlyn could barely breathe. “Oh my! This is beautiful. Is this where Brewster lives? In one of these huge houses?”

  Kirby hesitated, then said, “We visit here a lot. He could have lived here year round, if things had worked out differently. But lucky for me, he prefers to travel, and where I go, he goes.” He caught his slip of the tongue and added, “And vice-versa, of course.”

  Madlyn was impressed by the sheer expanse of wealth on display. She knew from her friends in Eagle’s Toe how much it took to maintain such properties, and she’d also heard some of her customers talking about how expensive the Rocking Eagle’s covered horse arena was. Here on Quaker Hill, she saw magnificent homes, grandiose stables, and covered arenas on nearly every property. She felt poorer than ever.

  As Kirby turned down a long drive, past an
engraved bronze plaque that read “Forbes,” he said, “You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden.”

  Madlyn pressed her lips in a tight line and shook her head.

  “Speechless? I thought you said there were lots of billionaires in Eagle’s Toe.”

  Madlyn frowned. “There are, but they sort of blend in.”

  “I see. The rich people you’re used to aren’t quite this ostentatious?”

  Madlyn relaxed and nodded. “Thanks for understanding. How do you handle it? All these trappings of wealth?”

  Kirby shrugged. “To me, it just looks like trappings of thoroughbred horses. Adopted mustangs out west may be grateful for a bale of hay and a modest barn, but these New York warm bloods demand a lot more. And they whinny with an accent, too.”

  Madlyn laughed. “Now you’re teasing me. But I see what you mean. Horses are expensive everywhere, and if you’ve got the money to afford expensive pets, why not?”

  Kirby said, “Exactly. Just think of these people as doting pet owners and you’ll be fine. Some of them even have dogs and cats.”

  Madlyn laughed again and swiped playfully at his arm. “Smartypants.” She gazed fondly at him. “Thanks. That really does help. I was feeling way out of my depth here.”

  Kirby winked at her. “No problem.” He navigated the long drive and pulled around the white, three-story mansion. In the back was a long, low building, also white, housing automobiles. Other cars were parked on a brick drive. A magnificent stable rose in the distance, and on a flat expanse of green, a team of workers was erecting a huge white tent.

  “For the wedding,” said Kirby, following Madlyn’s gaze. He turned off the engine.

  Madlyn tipped her head to one side as she looked into his eyes. “Thanks for a wonderful day. I can’t remember when I’ve had so much fun.”

  Kirby gave her his best crooked grin. “Better than the L.A. policeman?”

  Madlyn’s brows rose almost to her hairline. “Way better.” She laughed, then fell silent. Kirby was leaning toward her, and her heart skipped a beat. His lips came closer and closer. She could smell his shampoo. She was sure they were going to kiss.

  Someone banged on the hood of the car.

  Madlyn jerked back and saw a blond woman glaring at her through the windshield. She was all angles. Tall, like a fashion model, but not as pretty. And the flash of jealousy in her eyes erased any hint of attractiveness from her features. Before Madlyn could ask Kirby if he knew the woman, the answer became obvious.

  “Kirby Banks! How dare you flirt with another woman?” She pretended to be teasing, but Madlyn knew it was an act, because she’d seen jealous women before.

  Kirby muttered under his breath, “Vanessa.”

  “Is she your—” Madlyn almost choked on the words as Kirby opened his car door. “—cell phone girlfriend?”

  Vanessa heard what she said and leaned over to stare past Kirby at Madlyn. “Oh no, sweetie pie. We’re practically engaged.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Kirby snapped, “We are not! That’s quite enough, Vanessa. I’ve had it with this fantasy world of yours.” He turned to Madlyn. “She’s the one I told you about. She has this mad plan to marry me. It used to be amusing.” He turned back to glare at Vanessa. “But not anymore.”

  Vanessa straightened up and gave him a sly smile. “We’ll see. Someone has to marry you, you poor misguided man. Why not me?” She laughed, turned on her heel, and walked away.

  Madlyn narrowed her eyes and watched her retreat. “I’m not sure, but I think she’s trying to sway her hips at you. It’s hard to tell because she doesn’t have any.”

  Kirby barked out a laugh, then covered his mouth before he could attract Vanessa’s attention.

  Madlyn added, “She looks like the kind of woman who would go after a rich man. Doesn’t she know you’re just a chauffeur?”

  Kirby wondered if the time had come for him to confess everything. But then, he really was the poor relation in the family. And Madlyn had a point. Why was Vanessa after him so fiercely? She must think that Daddy Forbes was going to leave him a ton of money some day. Little did she know that Daddy Forbes hadn’t even seen fit to give Kirby his name, much less include him in the will. Kirby was just the nanny’s little boy. Of course, when Kirby was five, Daddy Forbes married the nanny and became Kirby’s stepfather. If a boy could feel like Cinderella, Kirby certainly had all his life. He was the stepchild, in every sense of the word. Ray Forbes was the only heir, as far as Kirby knew. When he was little, it had bothered him, but after his mother died on Mt. Everest, it was as if all feeling he’d ever had for the Forbes family had been sliced away. That was the summer of his twentieth year. The moment he got the news, he’d started running away, and he hadn’t stopped. That is, until his Uncle Kirby had called him to ask if he could send Brewster to work as Kirby’s valet.

  Uncle Kirby was actually his mother’s uncle, Kirby’s great-uncle. He was the closest thing Kirby had to a grandfather, and he was the only adult male in his life who’d always been fond of him.

  Uncle Kirby’s phone call about sending Brewster had been a double surprise. First, the horrible news that his health was failing came far too soon after his mother’s death. But that was eight years ago, and so far his uncle was still hanging on. The second surprise was the gift of Brewster himself. Well, not a gift, really. That was a terrible way to think of it. Brewster’s salary was the gift. Brewster was the biggest blessing in Kirby’s life. Kirby only finished college thanks to Brewster,. And afterward, Brewster had steered him away from several extremely bad decisions, until now, at twenty-eight, he might be the poor relation but at least he hadn’t followed his mother into an adventurer’s early grave.

  And sitting here next to the gorgeous red-haired Madlyn, he was finally able to tell himself that he might actually have found something—someone—to live for. The depth of his feelings for her was a bit frightening, but he couldn’t deny that this amazing girl had wound him around her finger in the space of a few short hours.

  Brewster’s voice floated to him from the tables where several guests were having an afternoon tea.

  “Kirby! Over here! Bring your friend.”

  Madlyn was delighted to find Vicky at Brewster’s table. She was also ashamed at the pleasure she felt when she noticed there wasn’t room for Vanessa to join them. She could see the woman working through the possibility of pulling up another chair, then discarding it as desperate, and finally turning away to greet some other girls with forced cheerfulness. Madlyn felt that such pettiness was beneath her, and recognizing those feelings inside herself made her uncomfortable. She also had the distinct impression that she’d made an enemy of Vanessa without even trying.

  Vicky’s cheeks were rosy, and given the late afternoon hour, Madlyn figured her friend had been drinking mimosas. Vicky leaned close and her breath confirmed that suspicion. “Did you have a good time at the Mall?”

  Madlyn nodded eagerly. “It was wonderful! We must have walked every inch of that place. My feet are killing me.”

  “Mine, too,” said Kirby, eyeing his shoes for the culprits they were.

  Brewster was working methodically through a plate of cakes and sweets. Between bites, he took a careful sip of coffee. “So glad you didn’t mind coming by, Kirby. It turns out—” He glanced about to make sure no one would overhear. “—that dear Vicky and I would be stranded here until ten p.m. if you didn’t swing by and take us back to the bed and breakfast.”

  “Ah, now it’s become clear to me,” said Kirby, faking a dreamy-eyed look as his hands waved about an imaginary crystal ball. “You didn’t call me out of friendship. Nay, nay, it was merely a selfish need for the BMW! I see it all now.”

  “Do you really?” Brewster’s tone was dry, but his eyes sparkled. “Indeed. I am found out. Do have the lemon cake. It’s divine.”

  Right on cue, a server approached with a tray of delectables.

  Vicky selected three yummy desserts for Madlyn to try. “D
o you want coffee or tea?”

  “Coffee, please.”

  The server poured elegantly, then left the silver pot on the table. He raised a questioning brow in Kirby’s direction.

  “Coffee for me as well, thanks.”

  Once the server left, Brewster paused in his demolition of a chocolate-covered pastry to ask Vicky, “What do you think of the groom?”

  Vicky shrugged elaborately. “Maria thinks he’s swell, so that’s all I need to know.”

  Brewster made an agreeable sound. “He doesn’t have Kirby’s sense of hum— Ow!” He glared at Kirby.

  Kirby stirred sugar in his coffee and pretended he hadn’t just kicked Brewster in the ankle.

  Madlyn reached across the table. “Are you all right? Was it a bee?”

  “No, I’m fine. Arthritis,” said Brewster seamlessly. “It comes and goes.”

  Vicky let her gaze drift back and forth between Kirby and Madlyn. Not even a mimosa glow could keep her from seeing the spark between them. She lifted her chin to hide her smile and said to Brewster, “I doubt seriously that anyone could match Kirby’s sense of humor.”

  Kirby’s brows met in the middle. “Who’s been talking about me?”

  Vicky laughed and pointed at Brewster.

  Madlyn smiled around a mouthful of something delicious. She couldn’t help it. She was actually having a lovely time. She wondered if the wealthy sat about being served from morning to night. The billionaires in Eagle’s Toe seemed to be working every moment. She’d have to ask Vicky about that later. Meanwhile, there was another mystery to be solved.

  “Vicky, why are so many people dressed for a fox hunt?”

  “They were riding to hounds,” said Vicky.

  Madlyn was horrified. “No! They didn’t kill a little fox, did they?”

  Now Brewster was horrified. “Good God, no! They use a lure for the hounds, and they exercise the horses by riding around the acreage. Besides, killing foxes is a bloody business.” He leaned toward Madlyn to share a secret. “None of this lot would want to get blood on their clothes.”