The Wedding Rescue

by Dianne Castell

  He looked back at his chili. Beans were a damn sorry substitute for cleavage. “What ideas did you have for breaking up Savannah and Nate?”

  Her eyes glazed over and her head wobbled as if not attached. “You’ve been at this longer than me. What do you think we should do? Hmm?” She gave him a lopsided smile.

  He took a bite of chili. “There’s still the flying idea. And now there are sick horses at Thistledown. Nate’s involvement with them will show Savannah she’ll always take second place to a horse. Can’t imagine her putting up with that.”

  Charity waggled her empty cup at him. “What if we got Mary Lou Hodges to make a play for Nate. She’s always liked him.” Charity hiccuped. “That might work. She’s more sedate than Savannah ever thought about being. More settled. It would be a good match.”

  “Mary Lou likes Nate because he donated money for a new wing to her library. She has gray hair, a pointed chin and the personality of the Wicked Witch of the West. All Mary Lou will do is make Nate think Savannah is the prize of the ages and want to marry her all the more. You’re not very good at this sabotaging thing.”

  Charity put her cup down on the paint-chipped table, pushed away the chili and stacked her left hand over her right in front of her. She rested her chin on top and her eyes crossed then closed. “Boy, I’m really tired. Can’t sleep. Don’t have my favorite jammies.”

  He pictured Charity in soft pink cotton, warm, cuddly, tempting as hell. “You…you want to sleep?” He eyed the bunks, picturing her in one and him in the other. And he was supposed to stay in the other. The shine wasn’t working worth a damn. That, or his desire for Charity was stronger than any booze could be. “We can’t sleep. We have to come up with more ideas to break up the wedding. Lots more.”

  He looked back at her. Her eyes still closed, her breathing slow; she was dead asleep, sitting at the table with her chin on her hands. Okay, this worked. She was there, he was here. A table between them. He thought of her jammies, wondering what they really looked like. Forget it. He’d only want to strip them off. Dang.

  He put the pot and dishes into the sink, pumped water then washed and dried them. He tossed another log on the fire, kicked back in his chair and propped his feet on the hearth. He looked at Charity again. She was so incredibly beautiful, inside and out. Her breathing was easy, her lips parted, her skin glowing in the firelight. At least she would sleep tonight, but he sure wouldn’t. Being in the same room as Charity and not having her in his arms was frustrating as hell.

  Chapter Six

  Charity awoke to the sound of someone banging on the wood-plank door—or was that banging in her head?—and sunlight streaming in through the window. Her mouth tasted like used cat litter, her eyes felt as gritty as buckshot from a twelve-gauge and her back was arched in a permanent C.

  Alvena Cahill yelled from the other side, “Charity? Tanner? You in there?”

  Charity’s eyes crossed as she muttered, “The woman has a voice like a gravel pit.”

  More banging. “Bet something good’s going on in there. I’m really sorry to put an end to it, but I had to come find you two. It’s important.”

  Charity stood, wobbled, wrapped her blanket around her against the morning chill and swallowed a string of curses as her backbone straightened out. She looked at Tanner sitting on the chair. He pried open an eye and said, “What was in that stuff we drank last night?”

  “Lava.” Charity hobbled to the door, yanked it open, squinted against the sun as the shafts of light pierced holes in her skull. If she ever drank shine again she would jump off a bridge…it would be way less painful.

  Alvena laughed. “You look like hell.” She strode inside and peered at Tanner. “You look worse.” She homed in on the jug. “Well, no wonder. Surprised you’re both not dead. This stuff can kill you.”

  Tanner retreated into his blanket. “Guess that red X was a warning label.”

  Alvena went to the bunk beds and slapped the top one, sending dust motes into the air. “Still made up. Can’t believe the only thing you used these beds for was the blankets. You wasted a perfect opportunity for a little hanky-panky, you know.”

  Charity leaned against the wall for support, her legs turning to rubber. “Tanner and I are…neighbors. No hanky or panky at either address. We just got caught in a storm together. How’d you find us?”

  “Miller brothers were out checking fence and spotted the tire tracks in the mud, then saw the plane and my truck. They gave me a call and I told them about you and Tanner here. This cabin is the only shelter for a spell and since we didn’t see any vultures circling this morning we figured there weren’t any dead bodies and you made it here. I called your mama and said you were all right.”

  Charity straightened her spine against the wall, listening to it crack into place. “You were wrong about the dead part.”

  “Honey, that’s just you doing some wishful thinking. Shine hangovers are the worst.”

  “Can’t believe I fell asleep at the table.”

  Alvena shook her head. “Neither can I, nor will anybody else on the Ridge.” She turned to Tanner. “What happened to you when you went to Alaska? Your brain get frozen over? I doubt if you ever slept in a chair with a pretty woman in the same room when you lived on the Ridge. Charity may be a little long in the tooth, least for you. But she’s cute enough, you got to give her that.”

  Charity would have rolled her eyes, but it hurt too much. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  Tanner stood and Alvena said, “Well, will you look at those legs. My donkey has better-looking legs.”

  He took Alvena’s arm. “That’s it. It’s been a long, long, long night.” He propelled her toward the door. “Wait outside. We’ll be with you in a minute.”

  “Get a move on. There’s a meeting at Thistledown at noon about all the ailing horses and what to do about them, and Charity needs to be in on it.”

  Charity’s eyes widened by half and she pushed herself from the wall. “Are more horses sick?”

  “Tanglewood and Homestead have two off their feed and looking poorly. None down yet, but Nate’s called in people from the university.”

  “I’ll be ready in a minute,” Charity replied.

  “I’m going to work on the plane, see if I can get her going,” Tanner explained.

  Alvena opened the door. “Time’s a’wastin’.”

  She closed the door behind her and Charity hitched her chin in that direction. “I think that’s Kentucky’s version of the CIA.”

  Tanner came to her and cupped her chin in his palm, tipping her face to his. Morning stubble darkened his jaw and his hair fell over his forehead. His blanket rode low on his shoulders, revealing the soft curly chest hair that had driven her nuts the day before. Nothing had changed.

  “Smile,” he said.

  “The nuclear explosions going off in my head forbid it.”

  “Humor me.”

  She did as he asked and he said, “Just as I thought, no long teeth.” He kissed her forehead. “Thanks for helping with the plane. I owe you.”

  “Oh, I’ll think of something.” Did she have to make it sound so provocative and sexy even though there could be nothing between them?

  Yes. She couldn’t help it. After all, she was a woman and he was a breath away, looking handsome as hell—chicken legs, stubble and all. There was a spark in Tanner’s eyes that hadn’t been there a second ago…

  Alvena yelled, “Jiminy Cricket, you going to take all day or are you catching up on unfinished business?”

  They had unfinished business, all right, but it was going to stay that way. The spark was still in Tanner’s eyes, but he only said, “You better change.”

  “I kind of liked the blanket look.”

  He arched his left eyebrow and tweaked her nose. “It had its merits. But you and I in blankets is more temptation than I want to think about now.”

  He turned around and she studied his back for a moment, feeling temptation singe a path r
ight through her. Nine more days till the wedding. How would she stay away from Tanner for nine more days? “Maybe we should have given in to that temptation last night?”

  Slowly he turned back to her, his eyes smoky. “All we’d do is start something we can’t finish and there’s too much between us for a brief fling in the sheets.”

  She bit her lip. “A fling sounds pretty good to me.”

  He grinned, but his eyes turned to dark chocolate. “Then what? When I fly in once in a while to see Nate, we pick up where we left off?”

  Another bang on the door followed by, “Yoo-hoo. Anybody alive in there? We need to get to that meeting.”

  Tanner went to the hearth and snatched Charity’s clothes. “Get dressed. You have horses to tend to and I have a plane that needs attention.”

  She took the clothes and he turned his back to her. “You can take care of your plane later. Come with me to support Nathan.”

  “Thistledown isn’t mine. I don’t belong there, never have, never will. Nathan can handle it.”

  Dressed, she made for the door, then paused with her hand on the knob. He was so sexy and so off limits and so much a hardhead. “I understand about you and me not getting involved, but not this. You flew all the way in from Alaska to watch out for Nathan, but as soon as Thistledown enters the picture you back off. You’re better than that, Tanner.”

  “I have no good feelings about the farm and don’t care what happens to it. That’s Nate’s business, not mine. I’m not getting involved with Thistledown no matter how much you want me to.” His eyes hardened, his jaw clenched. “Fact is, I was pretty much told to stay the hell away from it and not come back.”

  “Not by Nathan. Put the past where it belongs.”

  “Easy for the oldest sister of the Brady Bunch to say.”

  “Who needs a dunking in the water trough now, Tanner Davenport?”

  AND TWO HOURS LATER as she and Mama drove up the winding lane to the main house at Thistledown, she wanted to dunk Tanner in the trough more than ever. Tyrannical father or not, Tanner should be there for his brother. Times were tough and that’s when families pulled together. That much she knew from experience.

  She parked the station wagon and got out as Mama said, “Everyone in the county’s here.”

  Not everyone, Charity thought. As they walked toward the house, Mama nodded to Nathan standing at the doorway, greeting his guests. “He looks awful. I wonder where Savannah is. Doc gave her the day off, and she needs to be here with her intended at a time like this.”

  Charity fell into step. “She’s getting refreshments together for the guests.”

  Mama stopped dead in the middle of the brick sidewalk. “Savannah? Our Savannah, who can’t boil water, is going to cook for guests?” She took Charity’s hand. “We have to stop her right now before we all wind up in the hospital. Who will care for the horses then? Think of the lawsuits. Oh, my stars. Remember the Christmas cookies last year and how the gun club used them for skeet?”

  Charity bit back a laugh. “Nathan’s housekeeper is doing the preparation. Savannah’s helping with setting it up and serving.”

  “Well, I’ll be. The age of miracles is not dead. Savannah MacKay, the little homemaker.”

  “More like Savannah in love with Nathan and wanting to help even though she doesn’t know anything about the horse business.” And a little nudging from older sister who didn’t want Tanner’s plan about Savannah not being part of Nathan’s life to come true.

  Charity’s idea of pretending to help Tanner so that she could find out how he intended to stop the wedding had so far worked out perfectly. Sort of perfectly.

  Spending time with him was…tedious. She didn’t want to like him. She really, really didn’t. But that’s not the way things had worked out…except for now when he wasn’t there. Great brown eyes and hair and a body that wouldn’t quit were nice attributes but didn’t compensate for a lack of consideration. Heck, maybe he wasn’t such a terrific guy, after all. Maybe she had him all wrong. Now if she could just get her hormones to believe that.

  As she and Mama entered the Georgian, the brass chandelier in the hallway glimmered in the noon sunlight. They followed the others into the living room where the doors had been pushed back to accommodate everyone.

  The owners of Ivy Creek, Green Gate, Tall Oaks and other multimillion-dollar Thoroughbred farms sat in the living room. She knew them all. Everybody knew everybody in this business and they were all in trouble, big and little farms alike.

  Charity found seats for her and Mama. They smiled at Savannah as she passed around antique sterling silver cups of punch and cut-glass tumblers of the finest Kentucky bourbon. The cups remained on the tray: this was a bourbon situation. Mama nodded to Nathan as he took his place by the hearth. “He looks bushed. Do you mind if I stay here for a bit and see if I can help him out? Our place isn’t as hard hit as Thistledown. I wonder where Tanner is.”

  Charity groused more to herself than Mama. “The Red Barron is preoccupied.”

  She studied Nathan, tired, drained, worried. Blast Tanner Davenport. He had some nerve to suggest that Savannah wouldn’t understand Nathan during this crisis and then not be here himself.

  “Friends,” greeted Nathan, “thank you for coming. We have a serious problem. It’s not only a business problem but the lives of our horses and this year’s foals are at stake, and it’s our responsibility to protect them. More than money, more than racing, more than winning, what keeps us in this business is our love of horses.”

  He nodded to the men and women standing beside him. “These veterinarians from the university and the Department of Agriculture are here to help us find answers. The only thing that seems different this spring from other springs is the unusual dryness. What that has to do with our horses getting sick is what we have to figure out. Or maybe it’s not that at all. Maybe some chemical has leached its way into our water supply.”

  For an hour Charity listened intently to the discussion until Alvena Cahill stood up and said, “The one item that seems to offer relief to the sick horses around here is Margaret MacKay’s yeast concoction.” She pointed at the vets. “I suggest you take her back to that university of yours and make enough of her remedy for all of us till we find some answers.”

  Mama blushed as the vets folded their arms and offered patronizing smiles. They assured everyone the problems with the horses went beyond mountain remedies and folklore. Modern science would find a way to help them out of this situation.

  The crowd nodded and Mama’s blush deepened. Charity took her hand. Mama didn’t need more public embarrassment. With a no-good gambling husband and a bankrupt farm, she’d had her fill of it over the years. Darn it! Mama’s remedy worked. Charity stood, thinking how best to tell the pompous asses from the university and everyone else in the room that they had pea brains and—

  Her words died in her throat as Tanner sauntered into the room, grubby and muddy as a hound dog on the hunt. Her jaw hit the floor. Least, that’s the way it felt. Tanner did show up and, judging from his appearance, he’d walked from the cabin to get here. He was barefoot, probably left his boots outside in deference to the Orientals covering the floors.

  He rested his hand on Nathan’s shoulder, said something that made his brother laugh, then turned to the group. “I don’t know much about horses, but the Eskimos have a herb that treats hypothermia and saved my butt last year when I got caught in an ice storm. The point being, if something works, even a folk remedy, use it.”

  Charity plopped back down onto the Chippendale chair as Tanner continued. “We all know Margaret MacKay has been curing folks and animals for years on the Ridge. Bet there’s not one of you who hasn’t asked her advice one time or another over the years. If she has something to keep your horses going till the good doctors find a cure for what ails them, why not listen to her?”

  Nods and murmurs of agreement slowly filled the room and Charity felt a knot the size of Kentucky lodge in her throat. Not
only had Tanner come to stand beside his brother in the house he despised, he’d defended Mama.

  His gaze met Charity’s and he gave her a what-the-hell-am-I-doing-here look. She grinned and winked, knowing very well what he was doing here and admiring him so much for it. Brown eyes, muscles, dented chin were really nice, but they didn’t hold a candle to loyalty and kindness.

  When the meeting broke up, a few of the horse owners came over to Mama, wanting to know about her remedy for the sick horses. Pride welled up inside Charity. Mama was wonderful, talented and smart. And now, thanks to Tanner, everyone realized this, including Mama.

  Charity approached Tanner as he talked to Nathan.

  “Where’s your plane? Didn’t hear you land.”

  “Plane’s parked where we left it. Clogged fuel pump. I must be losing my touch, and I don’t want to hear about horses not getting clogged fuel pumps.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it.”

  His lips pulled into a slow smile. “You’re not going to let me forget this, are you?”

  Nathan grinned. “Heard you two spent the night at the cabin. Bet that was interesting.”

  Tanner shrugged. “Got caught in the storm.”

  Nathan’s grin grew. “Savannah and I used that excuse once or twice.”

  He slapped Tanner on the back. “Thanks for helping out. Now I’d better go massage the egos of our guests from the university. Right now they’re not nearly as popular as Mama Kay and we do need them to get this problem under control.”

  Nathan strode off and Charity looked back at Tanner. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Neither did I.” He raked his hair. “Amazing how a dunking in the water trough can bring you to your senses.” He tweaked her nose. “You were right, least about helping Nate. I don’t have any good feelings about Thistledown and still don’t feel I belong, but Nate’s my family.” He nodded toward the door. “Let’s go outside, this house makes me crazy.”