The Wedding Crasher and the Cowboy

by Robin Bielman

  “Jenna is a genius with Lego kits,” he said. “She reads the instructions all by herself and does a great job.”

  “I’m better than you, right?” she said.

  “You sure are.”

  The second his feet hit the sand, Jenna squirmed out of his hold. “Last one to the water is a rotten egg!” She quickly shucked her shoes and made a run for the placid waves.

  “She keeps everyone on their toes, doesn’t she?” Kennedy asked, removing her shoes and placing them on a nearby log.

  “She definitely does. In the best possible way,” he added. He put his shoes next to Kennedy’s, then took her hand to walk down to the water. The feel of her small palm inside his relaxed every muscle in his body. Soft sand, a few seagulls overhead, the salty air, a winning combination all around.

  When they reached the ocean, Jenna wormed her way between them so she could hold each of their hands. Glancing at his niece and Kennedy, he experienced a punch to the gut. For a split second, he pictured this future. A daughter. A wife. His heart full.

  Kennedy laughed at something Jenna said, and he yanked himself free of such notions.

  “Will you swing me, pretty please?” Jenna asked. “When the wave comes.”

  “Sure,” Kennedy answered.

  In perfect sync, he and Kennedy lifted and swung Jenna when the wave came onto shore. “Whee!” Jenna sang. Followed by, “Again!”

  After numerous times, his niece finally tired of the game and insisted the three of them look for treasure.

  “What kind of treasure?” Kennedy asked.

  “Any kind!”

  Over Jenna’s head, Kennedy smiled at him. He smiled back, his face muscles getting a good workout this week.

  “Did you know Uncle Mav gave me my first treasure?” Jenna picked up a broken shell piece and put it in her pocket.

  “He did?”

  “Uh-huh. It was this.” She reached inside the collar of her princess T-shirt and pulled out the necklace he’d given her for her fifth birthday. She lifted it for Kennedy to get a good look.

  “It’s beautiful,” Kennedy said of the tiny silver sand dollar.

  “I never take it off. Ever.” She tucked it safely back inside her shirt. “It’s my most prized possession.” She skipped ahead to pick up a piece of driftwood.

  “I’d say you win favorite uncle,” Kennedy said.

  “No doubt. Which bugs the crap out of Hunter. He wanted to get her a pony to one-up me, but Cole said not until she’s ten. Buys me a few more years of favoritism.”

  “You’ll still be her favorite.” Kennedy rocked sideways to bump his arm.

  “What makes you say that?” he asked, genuinely interested.

  “Hunter will always be the fun uncle, I suspect, but you’ll be the one who pulls her heartstrings. And that’s a pretty powerful place to hold.”

  The words that came out of this woman’s mouth.

  He pulled her to a stop and, not caring if Jenna took notice, kissed Kennedy square on the mouth. Lips, tongue, he poured his soul into the kiss before lifting away.

  Her dreamy expression told him mission accomplished; his thanks and gratitude were well received.

  They resumed walking, hand in hand. A few sunbathers dotted the sand, including Andrew, who, by the grin on his face and the thumbs-up, had witnessed their kiss. Kennedy groaned. “I guess I forgot to mention Andrew was down here.”

  “Wouldn’t have mattered.”

  She gazed up at him in surprise.

  He couldn’t say it aloud, but boy did she throw him off-balance. She made him forget everything but her, and kissing her just then had been on instinct. Necessary. Important. “I doubt I’m the only guy he’s seen you kiss,” he said instead, hating the thought of her kissing anyone else.

  “True,” she tossed out breezily.

  Touché.

  He released her hand to pick up a flat gray rock. Brushing the sand off, he placed it in his palm.

  “It’s shaped like a heart,” Kennedy said keenly.

  It was. And because his own heart was off-limits, he gave her the rock. “For you. A treasure to remember today.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  One day until the wedding

  “You’ve fallen for the enemy.”

  “No,” Kennedy lied.

  “You’re such a liar,” Andrew said, knowing her too well. “That kiss on the beach today was hot as hell. Not to mention there’s The Sleeping Bag Sexcapade.”

  “Shut up.” Her cheeks heated at the memory. “And I can’t help it if he kisses me.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, she slipped on her heels, head down, so she could replay the beach kiss in her mind without further scrutiny. Maverick had taken her breath away. Every kiss from him took her breath away.

  “You don’t have to kiss him back, ma chéri.” Andrew fastened the belt on his slacks, not paying her any mind.

  There was no denying anything with her best friend. She didn’t know why she even tried. Because the truth hurts. You’re leaving for a life far away from Maverick’s.

  “Fine. I like him more than is advisable.”

  “Hey, what happens in Windsong stays in Windsong.”

  “You’re such a goober,” she said, even though truer words had never been spoken. She stood, ran her hands down her wraparound dress.

  “Yeah, but I’m your goober.” He checked himself in the mirror. Handsome as always, he turned to her and added, “You look great.”

  “You too.”

  “Let’s go cocktail it up.” He put out his arm for her to take.

  Her phone rang as she slipped it inside her purse. She caught Hugo and Maria’s names on the screen and thought about answering before deciding to let it go to voicemail. She’d call them tomorrow morning when she had more time. Tonight she was anxious to see Maverick. He’d agreed to meet her in the parlor at seven, the entire Owens family included in tonight’s party, and it was currently three minutes after.

  Slipping her arm inside Andrew’s, they walked to the gathering. Finding it in full swing, Andrew made a beeline for Liam while she strolled over to the bar for a drink. To her disappointment, Maverick hadn’t arrived yet. “A glass of wine, please?”

  She turned to check out the room while she waited for her drink. Reed and Elle were talking with friends; other people she’d noticed around the inn and property were gathered in small groups. Several of the vases they’d arranged decorated the room.

  “Here you go, miss,” the bartender said.

  “Thank you.” She lifted the glass for a sip just as a man sidled up beside her.

  “Hello, there. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jared.” A groomsman, if her vague recollection of Reed mentioning him was correct. His friendly demeanor drew a smile out of her.

  “Hi. I’m Kennedy.”

  “Friend of the bride or groom?”

  “Groom.”

  “Huh. Beer please,” he said to the bartender. “I’ll have to talk with Reed about not introducing us sooner.” He accepted his drink and lifted it in the air. “Cheers to getting to know you, Kennedy.” They clinked glasses. She didn’t want to be rude even though she had no intention of getting to know Jared any better.

  “Hi, sweetheart, sorry I’m late.” Maverick appeared out of nowhere and wrapped his arm around her in a possessive hold. Kissed her cheek. Sent Jared a glare to end all glares. She almost laughed.

  Instead she melted against him. “Hi. Maverick, this is Jared.”

  “Hey,” Maverick said, always a gentleman with inn guests, but not offering his hand. “Thanks for keeping my girl company.”

  His girl? His girl. What the heck did that mean?

  “No problem,” Jared said good-naturedly. “You two have a good night.” He backed away before turning to join other guests.

 
She turned on the cowboy. “Your girl?” she inquired. How could she not? They hadn’t spoken about what this was, and if she wanted to go hang out with Jared, she could. Not that she wanted to. Not in the least.

  He took her hand and led her to a quiet corner of the parlor. “For tonight. Am I wrong?”

  The sincerity in his blue depths floored her. He didn’t usually give away much, but tonight he was.

  “No, you’re not wrong.”

  “You look incredible.” His gaze slid up and down her body like a caress. He’d seen the green wraparound dress before, but he made her feel like it was the first time.

  “Thanks. You look very handsome.” He’d traded jeans for a pair of black slacks and a light blue button-down, loose around his neck. His hair was neatly combed, his jaw cleanly shaven. She took a sip of her wine to cool the flash of heat coursing through her body.

  “I like to clean up occasionally.” He eyed her wine. “You good there?”

  “Yes, thanks.” She wasn’t much of a drinker. One and done for her.

  “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  She watched him walk to the bar and order a drink. The bartender chatted him up like they knew each other, and she reminded herself they probably did. Mav knew everyone at the inn and on the ranch. He had a family here who extended beyond his parents, siblings, and niece.

  He had a place where he belonged. Where friendship bloomed, even quietly.

  Kennedy wasn’t sure where she belonged. In an ER, yes. But she didn’t currently have that, and the feeling of being untethered suddenly made everything inside her hollow. Tuesday’s meeting in Boston couldn’t get here quick enough. She needed an answer about her future.

  She wanted a place to call home.

  She slid into a nearby high-back chair with a window view of the pond and white-painted bridge, rose bushes adding a splash of pink and red. She had this. An in-person interview meant they were serious about her.

  “How do you think he is?” a woman asked from behind the chair.

  “I don’t know. How do we ever know? He won’t talk,” a man responded.

  It sounded like Nova and Hunter. Were they talking about Maverick?

  “He seems to really like Kennedy. That’s good, right?” Nova said. “Means he’s moved on.”

  “I don’t know,” Hunter said.

  “Which part?” Nova asked.

  Kennedy got to her feet. It was definitely Nova and Hunter, and it was wrong to eavesdrop.

  “The moving-on part. He won’t admit it, but he’s wrecked about tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow? What was tomorrow?

  “That’s understandable,” Nova said. “But after his trip, he better be ready to get on with his life. Otherwise, we need to do an intervention.”

  “Hey,” Kennedy said when they hadn’t noticed her. She stepped around the chair. “Sorry, I was sitting here and overheard you talking.”

  “Hi,” Nova said, her eyes wide. “We didn’t realize you were there.”

  “I know. It’s my fault. Please forgive me.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. What we said isn’t really a secret.” Love mixed with worry in Nova’s tone.

  “But maybe keep it to yourself,” Hunter said. “Mav can be a little prickly.”

  “I totally understand.” She almost asked what tomorrow was, but bit her tongue, thinking if it was important for her to know, Maverick might bring it up later.

  Hunter nodded. “I’m off to the bar. Care to join?” he asked both of them.

  “Yes,” Nova said. “A fruity cocktail is exactly what I need to help with the lingering pain in the bottom of my foot.”

  “I recommend some Tylenol,” Kennedy said lightly, “and I’m good here, thanks.”

  Nova gave her a quick hug. “See you later.”

  Kennedy watched them greet Maverick at the bar just as his eyes caught hers from across the room. She swiftly looked back out the window to process what she’d heard.

  Maverick still had some healing to do, and she wasn’t sure where she fit in with that. Which meant the best thing for her to do would be to enjoy his company without allowing any more of her heart to get involved.

  He came up behind her, his warm breath brushing the side of her neck with a goosebump-raising, featherlight touch. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said softly.

  “It’s okay.” She gulped down the rest of her wine.

  His brows pinched. “Everything all right?”

  “Fine.”

  “Can I have everyone’s attention?” Mary Rose announced from beside her husband at the parlor’s entrance. The room quieted. “John and I would like to thank Elle and Reed and their families and friends for staying with us this week and trusting us with their special day. We’ve very much enjoyed getting to know you all.”

  “You too!” someone shouted in return.

  Mary Rose smiled. Maverick got his dimples from her. “Thank you. It’s a tradition here on the ranch that the night before a wedding, the bride and groom add their thumbprints to our book of celebratory trees.” Mary Rose opened a thin leather-bound guestbook to reveal a white page with a tree drawn on it. In place of the leaves were different-colored thumbprints. She placed the book on a table and opened three different colored ink pads. “Please come on over and write your name or initials inside or beside your thumbprints.”

  Reed and Elle walked to the table and added their personal stamp to the scrapbook. “Another tradition,” Kennedy whispered to Maverick.

  “Yes.”

  “Did Cole and Bethany get married here?”

  “They did. Their thumbprints were the first ones in the book.”

  Bride and groom hugged when done and thanked Mary Rose and John. Liam made the next announcement. “It’s time for one last wedding game to see how well you know our happy couple.” He and one of Elle’s bridesmaids handed out paddles. One paddle had a headshot of Reed, and one paddle had a headshot of Elle.

  “Raise the correct paddle to answer the question,” Liam said. “First question: who knows all the words to ‘I Will Always Love You’?”

  Kennedy raised her Reed paddle without hesitation. “He has a thing for Whitney Houston,” she told Maverick.

  Mav played along, raising his Reed paddle.

  Liam raised his Reed paddle in confirmation. Most of the room had guessed Elle.

  “Who said ‘I love you’ first?”

  Again she answered with Reed. “He told me it was the first time he ever said it,” she whispered. She’d only ever said it once, too. To her rat fink ex after he said it to her. She wished so badly she could take those words back.

  And again, she was correct.

  “Who drove across the country and slept in a van?”

  Kennedy looked around the parlor. Some people stood, some sat. The paddles in the air leaned toward Reed. Maverick raised his Elle paddle. So she went with the consensus and raised Reed’s.

  Liam lifted the Elle paddle.

  Surprise rippled through the room. Elle shared the story about when and why. Liam asked several more questions before declaring the game over and saying, “Let’s dance!”

  Music played through hidden speakers, and while there was no official dance floor, an area had been cleared for dancing. Servers holding trays with mini cheesecakes, fruit tarts, and brownies circulated the room.

  She and Maverick mingled some (thankfully avoiding the guests Andrew had introduced her to), their bodies constantly touching in some innocent way that felt anything but. He didn’t offer much in the way of conversation, and she found herself appreciating everything he’d shared with her this past week more and more. When a slow song began to play, he asked her to dance.

  Instead of joining the group of couples in the designated area, he led her to the much quieter veranda. It was like h
e had a sixth sense and knew she needed to steer clear of people, lest she mix up which persona she was supposed to be with which guest.

  Faint notes of music reached her ears as he took her in his arms. She wrapped hers around his neck, laid her head on his shoulder.

  It felt so right being together like this that she wanted to cry. She’d never experienced this sense of completeness before: a deep-rooted affection on the cusp of the forever kind of love. If only they’d reunited under different circumstances. And Maverick wasn’t still working through his loss.

  Kennedy had been beside many people who had lost loved ones. It sucked. It hurt. It devastated. The younger the deceased, the deeper the pain. A woman in her twenties like Nicole should have had decades in front of her.

  “Shortcake, you’re thinking too hard again.”

  “Isn’t it ever difficult for you to turn off your brain?” she asked candidly.

  “Sometimes. The secret is distracting yourself, and you’re the best distraction I’ve ever had.”

  She lifted her head to gaze up at him. “You know you’re really good at sweet talk.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” He dropped a soft kiss to her lips.

  “I think a lot of things about you,” she confessed, their bodies swaying to the soft melody coming from inside.

  “Right back at you.”

  “Should we compare notes?” Talk about playing with fire. Why say anything meaningful to each other when it didn’t matter? When she knew her heart beat harder and faster than his.

  “No,” he said sweetly. “Not because you aren’t something special, Shortcake, but because you are.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He looked away, hiding from her once again. His body, though? His strength and passion continued to wrap around her without uncertainty, his head and heart obviously at odds.

  “Can we not?” he asked, meeting her eyes.

  “Not what? Talk?”

  He nodded.

  She couldn’t even be mad at him. His request said volumes. His silence spoke louder than any explanation. He’d always been a man of few words—the times he’d opened up had been wonderful gifts she’d practically coerced out of him. She laid her head back on his shoulder. She didn’t want to spend their remaining time together at odds.