The Wedding Song: 5-hour read. Billionaire romance, sweet clean romance. (Colorado Billionaires Book 10)

by Regina Duke

  Bart rushed to retrieve her office chair.

  Zinnia fetched some water.

  “You okay?” asked Bart. “I didn’t really mean that last bit. I mean, I was teasing. You know that, right?”

  Ashley leaned back in her chair and gratefully accepted a glass of water from Zinnia. “I know.” She hesitated a moment. “You have the same sense of humor as your brother and he rubs me the wrong way. I don’t know why. Maybe...” She sighed heavily. “Maybe he’s too much like my husband. Who knows? As for your sister, she’s been a godsend! Without her, I wouldn’t have survived this last year with two small children and....” She took a deep breath and sipped at her water. “Look, I owe you an apology. I really haven’t been fair to you. Taylor has told me a lot about your father, how manipulative he is, yadda-yadda, and I guess I figured you to be a chip off the old block. But I’m not thinking straight these days. Thor told me he broke the news about my pregnancy.”

  Zinnia smiled. “Congratulations. Rose and I already bought you a gift.”

  Bart said, almost woodenly, “That’s supposed to be a happy thing, right?”

  Ashley barked out a laugh. “See? Just like Don. And Thor.” She took Zinnia’s hand and squeezed gently. “You’re so sweet, Zin. I’m sorry I never saw your talent before. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own little dramas. I’d love to hang your work. I especially love those small pastels of the Old Town. I think they’ll appeal to tourists and locals alike.” She let her fingers loosen and slip away. “I ‘m just so tired with this baby. Was I this tired the last time?”

  Zinnia patted her shoulder. “You were. You just don’t remember. Maybe you’re trying to do too much. I mean, here you are at work, as if you weren’t creating a tiny human being all day long.”

  Bart tried to make a joke. “Construction zone.”

  Ashley forced a smile. “Good one.” She dropped her gaze to the floor. “Maybe Zinnia’s right,” she said softly. She dragged herself to her feet. “I’ll be in my office...napping on my desk.” At the office door, she paused and asked Bart, “Do you plan on hovering all morning long?”

  “We’re talking about art,” he said defensively.

  Zinnia said sweetly, “I’m like a magnet, I guess.”

  For a moment, Ashley looked at the two of them, then she smiled a knowing smile. “I remember those days.” She looked very pale as she closed the office door.

  “Wow,” murmured Zinnia. “She doesn’t seem especially happy about this baby.”

  Bart grunted in agreement. “Thor was a lot more upbeat about it.”

  “Sure,” said Zinnia, keeping her voice down. “Thor isn’t going to blow up like a balloon, wallow in hormones, and then spend hours in labor. Oh! I finally get that. Why they call it ‘labor.’ Because it’s hard work!”

  “Brilliant,” said Bart, softly teasing. Then, “Am I hovering?”

  “Yes,” said Zinnia, “but I like it.”

  Bart smiled broadly. “Okay, then. I’m good with it, too.”

  They were interrupted by customers a couple of times before Rose arrived, her hours at the bookstore done for the day. When it came time to leave the Gallery, Zinnia was hesitant.

  “Do you think I should leave her alone?”

  Bart wasn’t sure what to say. “You’re not her caretaker,” he offered gently. “And Thor’s right next door.”

  Zinnia nodded. “Okay. You’re right. I’ll just go let her know I’m leaving.”

  Bart gathered a few things he’d bought and waited out front with Rose. “No problems with Chester today?” he asked.

  Rose said, “Not a single sign of him. Thank goodness. Do you think he’s still in jail?”

  “His parents probably bailed him out. Maybe he finally got the message.”

  Zinnia reappeared at the office door, looking shaken. “Rose? I can’t wake up Ashley!”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  By the time the ambulance arrived, Ashley was conscious, and Bart felt they should have waited a few minutes before alarming everyone. Thor had been out on a sales call, but dropped what he was doing and squealed up behind the ambulance before the paramedics could even exit their vehicle. Bart held the door open for him.

  “Where is she? Ash?”

  Bart pointed toward the office and pondered the silliness that could emerge in an emergency. After all, since she was at the Gallery, where else would she be but in her office? He continued to hold the door as the paramedics approached, two of them trundling a loaded gurney between them.

  Bart followed them toward the office, in time to hear Thor complaining about the false alarm. “I was about to make a big sale, but I get this urgent phone call.” His actions, however, belied his words, as he bent on one knee to look her in the eye and caressed her hands.

  Zinnia said, “That was me.” She raised an index finger. “Sorry. I thought you’d want to know.”

  Ashley murmured, “It’s okay, Zin. I’ll be fine.” She put a hand on Thor’s chest. “Remember, dear? This happened to me with the first pregnancy as well.”

  A paramedic pushed closer and strapped a blood pressure cuff around her upper arm. One of his colleagues was on his radio, reporting to someone.

  Thor asked with genuine concern, “Are you really okay, Ash?”

  She nodded weakly. “I need a nap, I guess.”

  The paramedic patted her shoulder. “Your blood pressure is very low. We’ll get you loaded up and off to the hospital in a minute.”

  Ashley said, “I’m fine.”

  Thor said, “Take her. Just to be sure.” He planted a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Ashley nodded. “If you insist.”

  Ten minutes later, Bart, Zinnia, and Rose stood awkwardly on the sidewalk. Zinnia had removed her costume while the paramedics were working. Thor had closed the security gate and locked up before heading to the hospital. Bart spread his hands. “Now what?”

  Zinnia was wringing her hands. “I’m still so worried about Ashley.”

  Rose said, “She’ll be fine, Zin. Didn’t you hear her say that this has happened to her before?”

  “Yes. But still...I don’t think passing out is a sign of a healthy pregnancy.”

  Bart said, “She’s in the best possible place to have that investigated.” He looked from one to the other. The afternoon breeze was picking up.

  Rose sniffed the air. “Good grief, I smell snow.”

  Bart frowned. “Yesterday, it was rain.”

  Rose shook her head. “Just February in Colorado. But you two may want to paint indoors.”

  Bart snapped his fingers. “I’ve got a great idea. Let’s go see my brother. He’s helping me assemble a wardrobe to please the New York gallery owners. Sheesh. The things I go through for my art.”

  Rose laughed. “Most people would say that about your Bohemian period. But you two go ahead. I’m going to sneak home and see my mother, if Chester isn’t parked in the driveway. I’ll see you back at the hotel, okay, Zinnia?”

  “Sure. That’s fine. Bye, Rose.”

  Bart draped an arm protectively around Zinnia’s shoulders. “What about you? Are you missing your mother as well?”

  “No. Not really.” She smiled with an effort. “Is Don really married to a librarian?”

  “Yep.”

  “I thought you told me your father was very controlling and wanted to approve of every new family member before anyone got married. How did a librarian slip past his eagle eye?”

  Bart grinned. He walked Zinnia to his car, parked next to The Muffin Man, and opened the passenger door for her. “Well, it turns out that this librarian inherited a small fortune.”

  “Oh! How convenient.”

  Bart humphed. “Very,” he agreed.

  Don seemed genuinely glad to see them. “Come on in,” he said, leading them through the enormous foyer with its church-like windows soaring to the roof. It was a glorious space but, as sometimes happens, bigger than the furniture. One small ros
ewood table with a shallow drawer stood vigil over the front door from the wall beneath the staircase. “I’ve laid some things out in the great room,” said Don. “Feel free to take anything you can use.”

  The ceiling was a bit lower in the great room, but furniture was still sparse. Zinnia blinked. “Saving up for more stuff?”

  Don grinned. “That’s exactly what my wife said. No, we’re just waiting a bit until we can visit some antique shops. No rush.” He added with a wink, “The bedroom is fully furnished.”

  Zinnia blushed. Bart chided, “Don, don’t get cute now. Seriously though, I really appreciate the clothes, bro. It saves me tons of time trying to figure out what would look good on me.”

  “I hope they’re not too tight,” said Don. “You built some muscles over in France.”

  Bart held his arms out and looked at them as if he’d never seen them before. “What do you know? It must have been hauling all those canvases around. Easels and paints and a chair...it gets heavy.”

  Don tilted his head at Zinnia. “I hope I didn’t embarrass you with my little joke,” he said. He pointed from her to Bart and back again. “You two....?”

  “I’ve hired her as my assistant,” said Bart, “and by doing so, I may have the pleasure of introducing a great talent to the New York art scene.”

  “Really?” Don was impressed. “Eagle’s Toe girl makes good, eh?”

  Zinnia seemed flustered. Bart offered, “Wait until you see some of her work. She’s a genius, and her technique will make her a star in New York.”

  Zinnia protested, “Bart, you know I have no technique.”

  “I beg to differ. Don, I swear, watching her work is like watching a miracle unfold before your eyes.”

  “No kidding?”

  “I was very impressed.”

  Don wiggled his fingers. “Do I get a demonstration?”

  Bart shot a questioning look at Zinnia. “We were going to do landscapes today, but there’s snow in the air and the temperature is dropping. What do you think, Zinnia? Can we practice in here?”

  “Oh, gosh, sure. If Don doesn’t mind.”

  Don said, “I can’t wait! Come on, Bart, I’ll help you bring your art stuff inside.”

  Bart said, “Great. Hey, Zin? Could you take a look at the clothes Don laid out and see if you can make them work together? Colors are my life, but I don’t have a clue about clothes.”

  * * *

  Zinnia stood, hands on hips, in front of the large sofa and took a mental inventory. Part of her brain marveled at the sheer number of items laid out there. Another part was already sorting and matching. She wondered if Bernard even had as many clothes as this in his entire closet. He certainly didn’t have this much variety. Maybe he actually owned several outfits but they were all the same cut and color. That made her laugh. Shaking her head, she began matching ties to shirts and shirts to jackets.

  The men announced their return by slamming the door and laughing raucously. A pinprick of doubt invaded her thoughts. Are they laughing because Bart told his brother about Woodsy and her plan? Am I still really worried about that nonsense? Evidently, yes. But how could she feel secure when Rose’s sure-thing of a fiancé had turned out so crazy? She managed a smile as the men came into the room, but it was tight and forced. “Welcome back.”

  Bart noticed right away. “Is everything okay?”

  Zinnia pretended her concerns had to do with the clothing on the sofa. “I may need more time,” she said. “There are quite a few items here. But how do these look?”

  Bart and Don set down paint boxes, easels, and half a dozen canvases of various sizes to check out her selections. “Excellent,” said Bart. “These three outfits could dress a department store dummy.”

  Don pretended to be irritated. “Now just a darn minute. You’re the one who asked to borrow clothes. Stop dissing my wardrobe.”

  Bart laughed. “Sorry, Don. I just meant the colors are so coordinated. You did this in the time it took us to retrieve our art supplies?”

  Zinnia gave a little shrug. “It’s just mix and match,” she said, denying any talent was involved.

  Bart clucked at her and said to Don, “See what I mean? Humble as all get out. Doesn’t even realize how talented she is.”

  “Well, let’s get started,” said Don. “You two set up where the light is best, and I’ll go fetch some iced tea.”

  Bart appeared to have a plan for Zinnia. While Don was in the kitchen, he set up a still life on the small table at the end of the sofa. Then he very carefully propped an empty frame in front of it, indicating with a wave of his hand that Zinnia could begin. She selected a small canvas board, propped it on an easel, and opened her box of pastels.

  Ten minutes later, she signed the lower right corner and noticed for the first time that Don had returned. He hadn’t drunk his tea. Rivulets of moisture ran down the glass, wetting his fingers, but he seemed transfixed by her canvas, staring at it open-mouthed.

  Zinnia didn’t know what to say or do, so she turned to Bart. “Is he okay?”

  “Don? What do you think?”

  Don stared accusingly at the glass that was sweating all over his hand. He finally set it on the floor and wiped his hand on his jeans. “It’s a trick,” he said, frowning. “How did you do that? No one can do that.”

  Zinnia lifted a gnarly rag out of the closest paint box and rubbed her hands with it. The varied colors of the pastels left her fingers looking like a badly bruised rainbow. “I beg your pardon?” She felt indignation rising within. “You stood there and watched me do it.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Don, apparently still unable to wrap his mind around what he’d just seen. “I know. But it’s not possible. Right, Bart?”

  Bart was grinning from ear to ear. “Zin, pick out a larger canvas. I think we’re going to skip the intermediate demonstration and go for bust. Or should I say portrait. Don? Would you mind sitting still for ten minutes?”

  Don’s brows met in the middle. “You’re serious.”

  “Very,” said Bart. “Let me get you a chair.”

  “He can relax on the sofa,” said Zinnia. “His expression will be more natural that way.”

  “Great idea,” said Bart. “Shall I have him hold the frame?”

  Zinnia giggled. “No, that won’t be necessary. When I do craft fairs with Rose, no one is holding a frame.”

  Still unsure, Don asked, “Ten minutes, you said?” He set the timer on his phone. “Ready when you are, young lady.”

  Zinnia placed a medium canvas on her easel, selected a pastel for each hand, and said, “Go.”

  Don started the timer, laughing in disbelief.

  Zinnia’s hands flew in concert from the upper left corner toward the lower right. Bart’s features settled into an expression of wonder as he watched Zinnia work the canvas.

  Once she reached the lower right corner, she stepped back for a moment, than added a smudge here and an edge there. “Done,” she said.

  The timer chimed ten minutes.

  Don was shaking his head and wagging a finger at his brother. “If you have a hidden camera, hoping to record me being cornhusker gullible, I’m not playing along. If that canvas is nothing but scribbles, I will say so…for the benefit of your hidden camera.”

  Bart crossed his arms loosely over his chest and admired Zinnia’s work. “No camera. Come take a look.”

  Don left the sofa and moved around to see the canvas. Zinnia stepped away, not comfortable having her art critiqued by strangers. After all, she’d gone through enough of that kind of ridicule in her art classes. But Don seemed unable to speak at all as he viewed the portrait. His tone was reverent as he murmured, “Oh my God. It looks freaking three-dimensional!”

  Bart corrected, “It has excellent depth.”

  “I can practically count the individual hairs on my head.” He peered more closely.

  Zinnia felt compelled to say, “Please don’t touch it. I haven’t used the fixative yet.”

 
; A cheerful voice called out from the entryway. “Hello! I’m home!”

  Don put a finger to his lips. “Shh. Don’t tell Rayna how fast you did this.”

  Before she could ask why that would matter, Rayna entered the room. Zinnia immediately decided she was perfect for Don, with her long dark hair, forest-green sweater, and faded jeans. From the looks of their house, they had a lot of money, but if you saw them on the street, you’d never know it.

  Rayna went straight to Don and kissed him softly. Then she greeted Bart. “Good to see you again, without having to fend off the wrath of Ashley. Who’s this?”

  “I’m Zinnia,” she said, offering her hand.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Don looked like he was about to burst. “Come look at my portrait.” He waved Rayna toward the easel. “What do you think?”

  Rayna’s expression shifted from mild curiosity to disbelief in an instant. “Oh! Donny, is this for me?”

  Don’s eyes widened above his smile. “Do you like it?”

  Rayna was transfixed. “Bart, did you do this?”

  “Not me,” said Bart. “A young up-and-coming superstar produced this work of art.”

  Rayna reached out, as if to touch the image but drew her hand back at once. “Does it need special handling? A special frame? Or treatment? May I hang it right away?”

  Zinnia allowed herself a brief smile of satisfaction. “I can tell you how it should be framed in order to protect it.”

  Rayna clasped her hands under her chin, still gazing at the portrait. “It’s amazing. His expression, the skin tone. Is this pastel?”

  Zinnia nodded.

  Bart cleared his throat. “The portrait is actually part of Zinnia’s portfolio.”

  Rayna looked devastated. “Oh please, I must have it!”

  Zinnia opened her mouth, intending to make a gift of the portrait, but Bart jumped in ahead of her. “Don hasn’t paid for it yet.”

  Zinnia was mortified. “Bart!”

  But Don just laughed and pulled out his wallet. “How much?”

  Bart stroked his chin as if he still had a beard. “Hmm. Her last sale was a still life, and it went for five hundred.”