by Jean Oram
He decided to try a new approach. “So, no assistant…”
“I understand how frustrating this is, but there’s truly nothing the resort can do. This project is just too big. I’m sorry. But to be fair, when Roy and Sophia booked the wedding they understood that the resort wouldn’t be able to help them if they chose this week. I was fully expecting to still be training Hope’s replacement, as well as volunteering for a local fund-raiser in honor of the late Evan Davenport.”
“You do arrange wedding packages, though?”
“Yes.”
“And normally you could help.”
“Yes,” she repeated carefully.
“But not this week. Because you’re slammed.”
Another tight smile. She nudged a thin folder with the resort’s crest on it. He’d refused to take it earlier, as it felt akin to accepting defeat. She’d informed him it listed recommended local businesses that worked with weddings.
Not what Nick needed. He needed magic. Preferably in the form of a fairy godmother who was well versed in last-minute wedding planning, because according to Zoe, the coordinator Roy’s bride had hired hadn’t set up a single thing with the resort. Not one single thing.
The only item on record for the Saturday wedding was one of the smaller, less-ballroom-like meeting rooms, which Roy had reserved months ago. That meant all the wedding had so far was a bride and groom as well as their attire, a room to stand in, and invitations that had eager guests such as himself and Polly already arriving.
This was a mess he was going to have to patch together for Roy, seeing as Sophia had to be in Sweetheart Creek until Thursday to help her mother, who was having surgery, then assist her in making the trip out to South Carolina. It was too much for the three of them to change their pre-wedding plans to come oceanside and save the event.
It was up to Nick.
He considered the problem more fully. They were going to need food. Someone to do the official ceremony stuff, and maybe some decorations.
He smiled. That actually didn’t sound too bad.
Polly came around Nick’s side, scooping up the folder and receiving a big smile of relief from Zoe. “Let’s take this just in case,” Polly said. “Thank you for your help.”
“My number is in there, so when you’re ready to coordinate the room’s opening and closing for Saturday let me know, and I’ll make sure someone is available with a key for you. Our kitchen can also accept certain deliveries, such as the cake on the day of the event, keeping it cold for you in one of our refrigeration units.”
Nick turned from the desk and moved a few steps away with Polly, asking her, “Where do we find food?”
She opened the folder from Zoe and handed him a sheet of paper with a list of caterers.
Nick headed back to the desk, where Zoe was now talking to someone on the phone. “If the adoption approval goes through, we’ll be a family of four in that small house,” she said, then was silent for a second. “I know, but I was very clear that the gazebo must stay. Extending the house into the side yard is your only option.” She glanced at Nick and held up a finger to indicate she’d be a moment. She cleared her throat after listening for a few seconds. “If you’re having issues envisioning the work you agreed to perform, I’ll have to hire someone else. Ripping up the backyard is not an option.” She hung up with a growl, and Nick made a mental note not to push her too far. Because while slammed to him might look like a quickly setting winter sun, an impatient driver for the cattle hauler who was under deadline, and fifty head of spooked cattle tearing off into the bush, with just him and Ralph to round them all back up again, this, for Zoe, was slammed.
“Do you guys decorate the room?” he asked.
“For the wedding?” She blinked as though mentally still in the middle of her phone call. “No. Sorry.”
“Food?”
She gave a shake of her head, her frustration with him becoming obvious. “As it says in the packet, we will provide servers and dishes if your caterer doesn’t. It’s an additional cost and should be booked a minimum of a week in advance.”
Right. A buffet with paper plates it was.
Nick turned back to Polly. “So all Roy needs to marry this lady are decorations and food. Right?”
“Flowers.”
“That falls under decorations.”
“Tables and chairs?” Nick called over his shoulder to Zoe, who was tapping away at her keyboard.
“Yes. It’s all in the booklet.”
“Do the tables have those fancy frilly things?”
“Skirts?” Polly asked.
“One thing at a time.” His head might explode otherwise.
“That’s what they’re called,” she said gently.
“Yes,” Zoe said. Behind her a printer was whirling out papers. “Roy booked ten tables and eighty chairs with the room.”
“Can we see a copy of his booking details?” Polly asked.
Zoe hesitated and Nick said, “We’re not going to crash or ruin the wedding. You can trust us.”
“We’re trying to save the wedding for them,” Polly said quickly, edging in front of Nick. “Please?”
Zoe continued to size them up as she turned her chair toward an under-the-desk filing cabinet. Seconds later Nick was peering at his uncle’s scrawled writing, with a sweet-smelling Polly hanging over his shoulder.
A woman with bright pink hair, and legs long enough for her feet to reach any saddle’s stirrups, came hustling up to the desk. “Hi. Zoe, right?”
Zoe nodded.
“Do you have an auction item for Evan’s fund-raiser?”
“We’re talking here,” Nick said, frowning at Polly, who was looking slightly starstruck.
“Yes,” Zoe replied to the woman. “Right here, Aspen.”
Polly drew an audible inhale as Zoe reached to the printer, grabbed whatever it was she’d printed off and slid it into a giant gift basket, handing the package to the woman, who answered her phone just then, moving a few steps away to chat.
“It’s Aspen Hampton,” Polly whispered, tugging at his sleeve. “She’s a singer.” She called to Aspen, “I’m a huge fan!”
The woman looked up from her phone with a smile. “Thank you so much.”
Nick gave the woman a friendly nod, then focused on Zoe. “Did you say there was already a wedding happening this weekend? Do you think you could get us their number so we can ask if their guy who does the ceremony could fit in another one?” He lifted a poster advertising a custom motorcycle show from the stack sitting on the corner of her desk, and flipped it over while taking a pen from her jar. He paused, ready to write down the info.
“I can’t give out personal information,” Zoe said, a tinge of exasperation mixed with sympathy in her voice. “Sorry.”
“Maybe they could double their orders for Saturday. Food, decorations. You know…” Nick gave an easy shrug, ignoring the way Polly sighed beside him. “Work together.”
The pink-haired woman laughed as she pocketed her phone and began to head away. “I like the way you think.” Walking backward, she grinned at Nick. “And don’t worry! Zoe will help you take care of everything. Good luck planning your wedding!”
Nick froze. “Wait. No. I’m not…” He gave Polly a helpless look. How did this all become his problem? He was here to sweet-talk. That was it. That was all. And it wasn’t his wedding, either. Although that wouldn’t be so bad if it was.
“I think you’ll make a lovely wedding planner, sweetie.” Polly was grinning, a dab of chocolate marring her perfect upper lip.
“I can’t,” he said, his eyes locked on the chocolate smudge.
“Can’t or won’t?” she asked, the epitome of innocence.
“You have…” He reached over to wipe the distracting ice cream away, but she dodged him, looking alarmed. “Here,” he said, moving slower, cradling her head so he could sweep his thumb over the spot. Her lip was warm and soft. He should have used his own lips to clean her up instead of his t
humb.
She was quiet, watching him. She said softly, “You really should help Roy.”
“Not me.” He’d make a royal mess of it.
“The big stuff’s already taken care of,” she said helpfully. He had no reason to still be embracing her pretty face, and he reluctantly lowered his hands, unsure what to do with them. “I’m certain your aunt-to-be has a list of what she expects for the menu, flowers and decorations. Request a copy and you’ll be set.”
“If it’s that easy…” He turned to face Zoe. She was an expert at this stuff. What was a couple of hours of overtime when it came to happy guests? Clients who had rented several cottages?
“Hello,” Zoe said, tapping her phone’s earpiece, which was wedged somewhere under her hair. “Indigo Bay Cottages. This is Zoe.”
Oh, that was hardly fair. He didn’t even think the phone had rung.
“If it’s that easy you can do it,” Polly said, pressing her hand against his arm. “You did say you’d save the wedding, didn’t you?”
“No. I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”
“You did,” she said, using a soft, coaxing yet firm voice that made him want to believe her. Even though he was pretty darn sure he would never say he’d waltz in and save this event. “So save it.”
“This is beyond my area of expertise.” He began backing away, hands raised.
“Everything’s been decided. It’s like a gala.”
“You’ve done this before? For galas?” And her own wedding, he’d presume; he’d guess recently divorced, based on the way she’d rubbed that empty ring spot on her finger earlier.
“Just do what’s on the list and git ’er done,” she teased.
He edged closer.
She waved a hand, her eyes shining with life. “It’s easy, Nick. You pull all this stuff together for others so they can have a wonderful evening. You’ll know it was you who made it happen and your uncle will be so impressed and grateful.”
She caught him watching her with expectation, and her distant, slightly dreamy smile faded. “What?”
“You know how to do this.” He was standing close, and her breath hitched as he ran a hand lazily up her arm.
“I—”
“If you don’t say you’ll help me, I’ll kiss you.”
Polly could see Nick was serious.
He would kiss her if she didn’t agree to help him.
It almost made her want to refuse her assistance.
And she did want to say no. She hadn’t come all this way to put some significant touches on the wedding she was going to attend.
“You thought I was talking women’s wardrobes with that table skirt bit,” she said. “You’re in over your head.”
“You just said it’s easy.”
Shoot. She had, hadn’t she?
“But it’s not if you’re new to the game, which is why I need you,” he said sweetly.
“Which is why I should say no.” She’d certainly be doing the heavy lifting.
Nick placed a hand on her hip, angling closer. It made the air-conditioned lobby grow warm and her lungs constrict.
“I know what you’re doing,” she said, cringing at the way her voice didn’t sound as steely as she’d like it to. It sounded…weak, and as though she was hoping he’d convince her to say yes. It sounded as though his physical proximity was having an effect on her.
“And what am I doing?” He brushed a lock of hair off her cheek, his thumb sweeping an arc across her flesh and sending a deep electric spark through her. She shivered, both loving and hating the effect he was having on her.
“You’re trying to woo me,” she whispered.
He placed his feet on either side of hers. His left hand was still on her hip, and the hand that had brushed the hair off her face now cradled her cheek. He was definitely wooing her. He leaned his head so close she thought he was going to dust her lips with his.
She should really step away, not allow him to tease her like this. Didn’t she have other things she was supposed to be doing here in Indigo Bay?
“If I was wooing you,” Nick said slowly, his voice deep and tantalizingly inviting, “you’d know it.”
This was why women got weak in the knees. It was because of men like Nick.
But why was that a problem, exactly? It wasn’t a bad feeling.
She clung to one last excuse. “I haven’t seen Roy since I was a teenager. I doubt I could pull off his wedding.”
Nick was still holding her, and she couldn’t seem to muster the will to break free. Maybe she didn’t want to. Maybe she wanted to see if he’d kiss her so she could find out if he was still as good as he had been.
He tipped his forehead down to hers, a small smile playing at his lips as he said, “He’s a dude. Get him hitched and he’ll be happy.”
She was too comfortable here. Too willing to say yes. Wedding planning was torture for two people in love, and was bound to be even worse for the two of them, seeing as they barely still knew each other. Although with Nick, how could it not be fun? Everything always had been.
And wasn’t that what she’d come here for? Fun, and to live a little bit? It wasn’t like she was going to do something irrational like marry him or fall in love. She was going to live for a few days, then go home refreshed and confident about where she was going to head off to in her new life.
Plus she was pretty darn good with details, and Roy deserved a nice wedding. He deserved to have it pulled together for him the way he’d helped make those summers here something special. And it was clear Nick couldn’t do it alone. She’d feel guilty the whole time she sat on the beach with her books.
“I’ll bring you ice cream every day,” Nick promised, “and we’ll give Roy and Sophia the best little wedding a cowboy and his townie could ever want.”
She had no doubt about that—if they could find vendors willing to jump in at the last minute.
She was seconds away from saying yes.
“You’re trouble, aren’t you, Nick Wylder?”
He grinned at her, knowing he had her. “Yes, but I’m the very best kind.”
Polly had said yes. Nick wasn’t sure if it was out of pity, intrigue or simply loyalty for the man who had welcomed her into their big crazy fold as a teen. He could still recall Polly’s look of overwhelmed wonder and gratitude when Roy had included her like she belonged. It was likely that, but either way, he’d take her help. And company.
As soon as the three-letter word of agreement had popped from her mouth, Nick had ushered her out of the resort’s main building and was dialing Roy.
“Roy? The wedding’s a go.” He grinned at Polly, who had her lips pulled into a serious twist that matched her brows.
Nick adjusted his hat as she demanded, “Tell him to email Sophia’s list. We need all the details, such as—”
He held up a finger to indicate she was running too fast. Together they’d get this done, and enjoy their time together, too, but they also needed to chill. This was a mere rescue mission, not some sort of dream fulfillment. They didn’t have time to go all crazy in the head.
His uncle let out a bark of triumph. “I knew you’d be able to woo Zoe, you old dog. There’s nothing like making a request in person and sending in a handsome young buck.”
“Zoe didn’t say yes.”
“An assistant then?”
“Nope. No assistant.”
“So it’ll be someone new doing the organizing?” Roy confirmed, getting back on track.
Nick glanced at Polly, who was in a crouch, watching a tiny lizard climb over the path’s stone edging.
“Polly and I figured we could throw the last few things together.”
She muttered, “Last few things…”
There was a long stretch of silence on the other end of the line. “You?”
Nick swallowed the sting of his uncle’s disbelief. “And Polly.”
So what if he wasn’t the obvious choice? Did Uncle Roy want to get married or not?
Th
ere was more silence, then a grunt. “Right. Well. I suppose she’ll keep things in line.”
“Polly wants you to email her the list of everything Sophia sent the coordinator.”
Polly nodded. She had stepped into his personal space, eavesdropping, and Nick offered her the phone. She reached out, snatching it, then moved several feet away. Maybe he should have let her continue to try and listen in. It was nice having her stand so close.
She sent rapid-fire questions to what must be an overwhelmed Roy.
“Put Sophia on speaker,” Polly finally said impatiently. The questions continued from color scheme to flowers to menus to budget, until she finally gave them her email address and handed Nick back his phone, looking rather self-satisfied. He held the device to his ear, unsure whether his uncle was still on the line.
“It sounds like she has things under control,” Roy said, barely choking back his amusement. “I didn’t even know we had a theme or a color scheme.”
“Is it brown and black?”
Roy laughed. “Apparently not.” His voice was warm as he said, “I owe you one.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Truly, I appreciate it. And if the boys weren’t all grown up and ready to settle down I’d—”
“Look, it’s fine. I understand. But I’ve got to go. There’s a wedding to plan.” He clicked off, wincing at his abruptness, even though he hadn’t been in the mood to hear how the boys were getting the ranch, as it was their birthright as direct descendants of Carmichael’s eldest son—Roy himself. Of course the ranch was going to them. That’s how it had been passed down for generations.
“Where do we start?” Polly asked, her eyes shining once again.
“You like tasks, don’t you?”
“I’ve been sitting around for months.” She rubbed her hands together. “I didn’t realize how much I’ve been needing something like this.”
“A wedding? How romantic.”
“I don’t really believe in romance anymore.” She glanced away, then seconds later whirled to face him again, head cocked as though sensing something out of place. “Is that why you think I said yes? I’m fulfilling some fantasy?”