“Tanner? Tanner Davenport? What are you doing here?”
Charity MacKay. He might have been in Alaska for the past seven years, but he’d recognize that red hair flying in the breeze anywhere, and nobody sat a horse like Charity. Hoofbeats thundered as she reined in beside him and peered down as if he were an infestation of locusts.
“It’s so ‘you’ to drop out of the sky like some meteor and scare the bejeebers out of my horses,” she quickly added.
He leaned against the Cessna, letting the April sun warm his bones, something he sure as hell couldn’t do in Alaska this time of year. “Sorry about the horses, but I was low on gas.”
“Since your farm is just over the next rise and twice as big as this place ever was, why aren’t you scaring your own horses?”
“I really was low on gas. Besides, I saw you riding out, and we need to talk.”
Charity slid to the ground and touched the plane as if it would bite. “I know diddly about Alaska. Figure if people were meant to fly we’d all have wings, and horses never were your strong suit. That makes for a real short conversation.” She eyed him. “Why are you here?”
“The wedding? Your sister, my brother?” He shook his head. “I need to do something about it…”
Dear Reader,
I live in Cincinnati, and whenever I drive south I pass through a lot of orange barrels and bumper-to-bumper traffic and finally cross the Ohio River into the beautiful state of Kentucky.
Wild honeysuckle cascading across acres of zigzagging fences, hills of bluegrass rolling on for miles, hawks soaring overhead, Thoroughbred horses grazing in lush pastures, recipes for melt-in-your-mouth corn bread and white-lightning moonshine give Kentucky a unique flavor all its own.
I’ve always wanted to write a story about the horse farms and the owners who work relentlessly to keep them so perfect. The Wedding Rescue is that book.
I hope you enjoy reading about Tanner and Charity and their families and Kentucky. I’d love hearing from you at [email protected]. Let me know what’s special about your neck of the woods.
Have fun!
Dianne Castell
Books by Dianne Castell
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
888—COURT-APPOINTED MARRIAGE
968—HIGH-TIDE BRIDE
THE WEDDING RESCUE
Dianne Castell
To Lori Foster, wonderful friend and fantastic author.
Thanks for everything.
To Susan Litman, for your help,
guidance, encouragement and friendship.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter One
The Cessna coughed, then sputtered. Fuel? Tanner Davenport glanced at his instrument panel. Hell. He was almost out, and that was damn inconvenient since he was two hundred feet above ground. He should have topped off his tanks, but getting home to his big brother’s doomed wedding made him push the limit. That limit was fast approaching.
Treetops gave way to lush spring grass glistening with morning dew. Grazing horses scattered in all directions. “Sorry guys,” he muttered.
He spotted a lone rider as he leveled off, adjusted flaps and grit his teeth as the wheels touched ground, jarring him like an egg dropped from a tall chicken. Now if only he didn’t crack like one. He applied brakes, stopping just short of the brown split-rail fence. Was he a good bush pilot or what? More like a damn lucky one…and damn stupid for getting so low on fuel in the first place.
He pushed open the door, stepped down and ritually kissed his fingers and touched the wing for luck. Today he touched it twice. He took a KitKat from his pocket, peeled back the red wrapper and chomped into it as a warm breeze kissed his cheek. Wild honeysuckle cascaded across acres of zigzagging fences, hills rolled on as far as he could see and hawks soared overhead. Bluegrass Ridge, Kentucky. Home…for better and worse. And right now a touch of the better came his way at full gallop.
Charity MacKay. He might have been in Alaska for the past seven years, but he’d recognize that red hair flying in the breeze anywhere, and nobody sat a horse like Charity. Hoofbeats thundered until she reined in her fine-looking Morgan beside him and peered down as if he were an infestation of locusts. Her eyes suddenly lit with recognition.
“Tanner? Tanner Davenport? What in the Sam Hill are you doing here?” A little smile tipped her lips…her soft pink lips? “Though it’s so you to drop out of the sky like some meteor and scare the bejeebers out of my horses.”
He leaned against the Cessna, letting the April sun warm his bones, something he sure as hell couldn’t do in Alaska this time of year. Then Charity smiled, warming him even more. How’d that happen? Why’d that happen? “Sorry about the horses, but I was low on gas.”
“If I remember correctly, your excuses for mayhem used to be a lot more creative. Since Thistledown is just over the next rise and your farm is twice as big as this place ever was, why aren’t you scaring your own horses?”
“Not my place or my horses. And I was really low on gas.” He gave her an easy smile. “Besides, I saw you out riding and we need to talk.”
Charity slid to the ground and touched the plane as if it would bite. “I know diddly about Alaska. Figure if people were meant to fly we’d all have wings, and horses were never your strong suit. That makes for a real short conversation.” She looked back to him. “Why are you here?”
“The wedding? Your sister, my brother?” He shook his head. “I need to do something about it.”
Her green eyes danced. Charity MacKay never had wonderful green eyes before, had she?
“You came in early to find the perfect wedding gift? I know what you mean, it’ll be a challenge to come up with something unique since Nathan already has the perfect house and the perfect horse farm. Now he’ll have the perfect wife.”
“You think so?”
“Oh, my, yes. You must be thrilled Nathan and Savannah are tying the knot. You two were good friends. Think I saw more of you at our kitchen table than her. Nathan wants the wedding at Thistledown, he’s even bringing up a chef from New Orleans to cater. He and Savannah handpicked the orchids for the bouquets and table settings.”
“A two-month engagement seems a little on the fast side.”
“Nathan and Savannah have known each other since birth. Nothing fast about that.”
He stroked the filly nuzzling Charity’s shoulder, then stepped around her and swung himself into the saddle with an ease he hadn’t forgotten. That surprised him. It was a long time since he’d been on horseback. A long time since he wanted to be. Brought back one hell of a lot of memories. His smile slipped a notch.
Charity put her hands to her hips, firm and slender from years of riding. “Are you all comfy up there on my horse?”
“I need fuel for the Cessna, but I’m willing to share…” He arched his brow in question, waiting for her to supply the name.
“Ranger.”
He laughed. “A filly named Ranger? Couldn’t you go for Princess or Fluffy?”
Her lips curved into an inviting smile as sunlight played on her red hair, turning it to fire. “Still getting your own way and calling the shots.”
He laughed again, stroked Ranger and ignored the smile and fire. “That’s the one area where you and I are tied dead-even.”
He shed his leather jacket and looped it over the saddle, then held out his hand to help her up. “Come on, Kentucky Girl, it’s a
long walk back. I’ll give you a ride.”
“My, my. Chivalry is not dead after all.”
She grabbed his hand and he nearly dropped her. He hadn’t expected touching Charity MacKay to be so…so…intense? She’d never been intense before. She’d been a blur, the oldest of three sisters, the worker bee, the serious one who held MacKay Farms together on a shoestring.
A breeze molded her white cotton blouse to her rounded breasts and he did a mental head shake. Hips? Breasts? Lips? Not a blur anywhere.
“Is there a problem?”
Damn good question. “Been a while since I’ve ridden.”
She nodded at Ranger’s tail. “Back.” She nodded toward the head. “Front. That’s the part you steer.”
“I’ve been welcomed home by a smart aleck.”
“What happened to Kentucky Girl?”
That’s what I want to know. She slid up behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle as he nudged Ranger into a walk. “So, you really do think this marriage is a good idea?”
“Good? Flyboy, this wedding left good behind weeks ago. Wait till you see Savannah’s dress. It’s a Vera Wang.”
“I don’t remember a Vera on the Ridge. She made Savannah’s dress?”
“This is the reason men are not allowed to plan weddings. Savannah’s colors are weeping willow and peach blossom. There are eight bridesmaids, and white rose petals in the aisle. They had an engagement party at the Horseman’s Club. We gave up our membership some years ago but Nathan’s connected.”
“You’re sure excited enough about this wedding. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were the one getting married.”
“Me?” Her warm hands resting on his middle, her slender arms around his sides and her front that grazed his back stiffened. Then he stiffened, lest the portion below his belt did.
“Hardly. I’m…I’m just happy Savannah’s getting the wedding and the man of her dreams.”
“Nate’s the best, that’s for sure.” Charity’s legs brushed his, making him more aware of her than before…as if that were possible.
Okay, enough. What the hell was going on? Why was he behaving like a complete dolt? He and Charity were never close. She was like…his big sister as well as Savannah’s. Was Charity three or four years his senior? Who cared! But his hormonal surge did not suggest sister at all—that much he felt sure of. Maybe this awareness came from there being ten males for every one woman in Alaska. Yeah, that must be it. Her touch felt warm, gentle, feminine—he could tell right through his shirt. The surge kicked up a notch and he squirmed.
“What’s wrong now?”
“Nothing.” Everything. “How far away is that house of yours? Did you move it?”
“Put it on roller skates and slid it down the lane. Piece of cake. You sure you didn’t knock your head when you landed back there?”
Home. He had to make it there and to get both of them off this horse. He nudged Ranger into a trot. Charity’s hands gripped tighter, her chest rubbing in a steady rhythm. His condition did not improve one iota.
The farm came into view. ’Bout damn time. He had to think of something other than the woman behind him. Good luck. “Nice buns. Uh, barns. I mean, barns.” His brain had turned to mush.
He looked around, desperate for distraction. The roof on the house was shot and the cars old. He pulled up and she dismounted. He stayed put, leaning forward slightly to conceal his aroused state. How embarrassing was this? He couldn’t even get off the damn horse without advertising he was one horny Alaskan. He hadn’t hit his head in that emergency landing, but it had sure jarred his hormones.
CHARITY STUDIED TANNER. He wore a soft denim shirt and he smelled of fresh winds and tall pines. That, mixed with the heat of his skin seeping into her as they rode back, had made for a long, unsettling trip. Trouble was, she still felt unsettled. This was not the same twenty-one-year-old who had left the Ridge eight years ago. He’d grown up. A lot.
She ran her fingers through her hair, lifting it off her neck, taking in Tanner’s fine brown eyes and thick lashes. Mercy, it sure was hot for April. “Savannah and Nathan really seem happy. I’m sure you realized that from just talking to Nathan.”
Tanner gazed her way looking…pained? Maybe from the rough landing. “My brother’s been so preoccupied with breeding and training race horses for the past ten years, anyone would look good to him.”
“Savannah’s not just anyone. She was Miss Bluegrass two years in a row and had every male on the Ridge in love with her at one time or another. You must remember. Seven years and ten and a half months isn’t that long ago.”
“You’ve kept track?”
Heat rushed to her face. “Uh…sure. Heck, everybody has. Marked it off on the calendar in big Xs. Been reveling in the peace and quiet. No more biplane doing loopy things over our pastures. No more fast cars tearing up our gravel driveways. No more skinny-dipping in Blue Stone Pond.”
Whoops. Tanner’s eyes widened as if surprised she knew about such a thing. She knew. Oh, Lordy, did she. Once, looking for Savannah at the pond, she’d seen Tanner get out of the water, alone, dripping wet. In the full moonlight, she’d glimpsed his muscles and nice butt. Great butt. “How…how do you like Alaska?”
“It’s far away from the Ridge.”
“Is that a good or a bad thing? Do you miss it?”
“It’s necessary.” He shrugged. “I miss Nate a hell of a lot. And I miss your mama’s fried chicken and corn bread.”
He grinned. Did he have to grin? He had a great grin, almost as good as his…Heavenly days, the man was an eyeful coming and going. Snagging his jacket, he hooked his leg over the saddle and slid to the ground. A breeze ruffled his chestnut hair, sending a lock over his forehead as he handed Ranger off to one of the high school kids who worked part-time around the stables.
Tanner gave Charity a long, searching look. Oh, no. He knew about the pond. She was sure he did. He’d seen her and—
“Doesn’t this wedding bother you just a little?”
Glory be, he was back to the wedding again. No pond, no Peeping Charity. Life was good. “Well, the wedding is expensive, but we’ll manage. Nathan’s paying for the reception and—”
“Not that.” Tanner folded his arms. “Nathan’s shy, works like a dog. If the housekeeper didn’t keep his clothes organized and cut his hair, he’d look like Einstein. Savannah’s…well, Savannah’s the Ridge’s answer to Vogue and Cosmo all rolled into one.”
“That makes them the perfect match. They complement each other and bring out the best in each other.” She nodded at the older-than-dirt pickup parked by the garage. “Gas cans are next to the pump around back. Take what you need for the plane. I’m sure Puck won’t mind riding with you, then he can drive the truck back.”
“Does he still have that apartment over your garage?”
“Yep, thank heaven. Don’t know how we would have gotten by without him to help out around here all these years.”
She watched Tanner head off toward the storage tank and called, “Hey, I forgot to give you suggestions for a wedding gift. That’s what you wanted to talk about in the first place, wasn’t it?”
He paused for a moment, then said, “I’ll think of something.” He gave her a little salute. “See you later.”
She turned for the house as the whinny of horses mixed with birdsong and the hum of insects. She took the stone path bordered with rosemary and lavender. Sprigs of peppermint trailed across the rocks, scenting the air as her boots crushed the leaves. Mama Kay’s Welcome mat.
If she could ever save any money, she’d buy Mama a watering system. Maybe this year…if all went as planned, for a change. She ran her hand over her face and let out a long, deep sigh to ease the knot in her gut. She pulled a mint from her pocket, peeled back the wrapper and popped the disk in her mouth. Her stomach settled a bit as she opened the door to the screened-in porch and ducked under the patchwork canopy of green, yellow, blue and gray herbs hung upside-down to dry. She k
issed her mother on the cheek, hugging her from behind as she repotted new thyme with expert care.
Charity plopped down into a wicker rocker and hitched her leg over one arm. “Why couldn’t Tanner Davenport stay in Alaska where he belongs? Why couldn’t he just FedEx Nathan and Savannah some moose antlers and smoked salmon as a wedding present?”
Her mother smiled as she reached for another pot. “I’m guessing that gibberish means Tanner’s back on the Ridge, and since he was born and raised a mile down the road, he belongs here as much as you do. Not to mention that his only brother is getting married in two weeks.” Mama stopped potting and gazed at Charity. “You don’t sound too thrilled to see Tanner. Something wrong?”
Virile, rugged, handsome, muscular…great behind. “I wouldn’t go straight to wrong, more like…agitating. Why he ever left one of the finest horse farms east of the Mississippi in the first place to go off and live with bears and seals is one of life’s great mysteries. Don’t you think?”
Mama’s smile widened as she filled the pot with soil. “I know it’s hard to believe, dear, but Thoroughbreds thundering across the finish line isn’t everyone’s dream.” Her expression became more serious as she added, “Something his daddy didn’t understand one bit. Must have been hard for Tanner to come back. It would dredge up a lot of old memories.”
Charity admired her mother’s perfect makeup that never looked made-up, her golden hair with fine streaks of silver that were more attractive than aging and pin-neat, crisp, blue blouse and floral skirt. All right. How did she do it? How could someone be up to their elbows in dirt and not get dirty? As Charity studied her own dusty jeans and smudged T-shirt, she realized she didn’t have a clue. “Well, he needs a shave, his hair’s too long, that jacket he wears looks like a moose hibernated in it.”
“Moose don’t hibernate, dear.”
“This one did.” She sat upright and sighed. “Tanner’s not the same guy who left here, Mama. Not at all. He’s…he’s a man.”
The Wedding Rescue Page 1