Lucy McConnell's Snow Valley Box Set

by Lucy McConnell

  Troy sagged and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m not the type of guy who settles down, and honestly, I didn’t want to make waves. If I told her I have no intention of getting married any time soon, she’d think she failed in some way. If I’m engaged and it doesn’t work out—I don’t know—this made it look like I was trying, at least.”

  Chloe blew out a breath and looked up at the ceiling. “I get that, I do, but I don’t like it.”

  He stepped so they were toe to toe. “Hey,” he said softly, waiting to catch her eye. “Trust me. It’s all going to work out just fine. A broken engagement will buy me at least a year.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of Chloe’s lips. “Then what, you pick another unsuspecting girl and pretend to be engaged?”

  He put his hands on her hips and gave her a little shake. “Like you were so unsuspecting. You jumped at the chance to be my fiancée.”

  Her eyes widened and brightened. “Ha!” She gave him a playful push, not hard enough to make him break his hold on her hips. “You practically begged me to come.”

  He glanced at her hair and then, as if in a trance, picked up a strand and twirled it between his fingers. “Hmm. Are you sure about that?” His voice had gone husky. He met her gaze, gauging her reaction to his closeness. He felt something when they were together, but he wasn’t sure if she did. He didn’t want to overstep his bounds, but if they were both feeling this, then there might just be something stronger than the two of them could deny.

  Her hands fell to his chest, her palms warm through his shirt. She moistened her lips. Her beautiful, perfect lips. Troy did his best to hold back, to not give in to the desire pulsing inside of him—he really did. Despite his best efforts, he leaned down, wanting to taste her just this once.

  Chloe’s breath was warm on his mouth, warm and sweet. His ears rang and the world faded away.

  “I think the mop’s in here. Oh!”

  Troy dropped his hands from Chloe’s hips at the same time she jumped away from him.

  “Sorry!” Natalie Lawson shut the door, her face a bright Christmas red.

  Chloe put her hand to her forehead and ducked her head. “Oh my gosh! That was so embarrassing.”

  Troy laughed.

  “Stop.” Chloe smacked his arm. Her freckles brightened against her flushed skin. “It’s not funny.”

  “It’s kind of funny.” Troy worked to smother his laughter.

  A giggle escaped from behind Chloe’s hand. “We have to get out of here. Everyone will think we’re making out.”

  “We’re engaged—it’s allowed.” He smirked.

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m not that kind of fiancée.”

  He sighed heavily, putting as much disappointment into it as he could. “Too bad.”

  She smacked his arm. “I’m a little worried about the kind of women you normally date. I’m not sure I want to be in that crowd.” She fumbled with the door handle before falling into the hallway.

  “Chloe,” he called before she’d gotten six steps away.

  She turned slightly, her chin over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “You’re not in the crowd—you’re above it.”

  Her lips parted slightly and her eyes sparkled. “Thanks,” she said softly, as if she almost didn’t believe him but wanted to. She headed back to the gym, her hips swaying gently and her hair bouncing against her back.

  Troy let her go, needing some space. He kept saying things that he didn’t mean to say. He shouldn’t tell her how she stood out in all the right ways; that was pushing his luck with her. But he got the feeling she didn’t hear it often enough. Well, she was doing him a favor by being here and pretending to marry him, so the least he could do was build her up. She would make a wonderful real fiancée and an even better wife for someone, someday.

  Hopefully not too soon. Their new level of familiarity and—dared he say it?—friendship was growing on him. If she started dating someone else, things would change. Love always changed friendships. Look what it had done to him and Grady. They used to spend what little free time they had together, and now Grady was all caught up in Ronnie. He’d even ditched their Saturday morning flag football league in order to spend more time with Troy’s sister.

  Troy wouldn’t be like that, though. No sir. If he ever fell in love, the girl would have to understand that some things were nonnegotiable.

  He wondered what Chloe’s nonnegotiable items were. Scrubbing the back of his neck, he stepped out of the closet. It wasn’t any of his concern what Chloe’s demands for a boyfriend, fiancé, or even husband would be. They were friends, and barely friends at that. They’d get through this fake engagement, fake break up, and stay real friends.

  Which was good, because he was about to lose his best friend and he was going to need someone to pal around with. Chloe could be that someone. And they could stay platonic. And when she met a guy … Troy would punch him in the face.

  He grinned. No. He’d shake the guy’s hand and tell him how lucky he was to get a girl like Chloe. And then he’d find a hole to climb in, because he’d really want to punch the guy.

  Chapter 10

  Chloe

  Chloe stared at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door, swishing from side to side to let the hem of the ¾-length-sleeve floral wrap dress twirl around her calves. The fabric was thick and rich and made her feel like a million bucks. The folds, tucks, and wrap thinned her waistline and gave her curves a little attention. She adored the small bow resting off-center just under her rib cage.

  She scrunched her hands in her hair, feeling the softness and releasing the smell of the coconut serum Bree recommended. The new style accentuated the curls and allowed them free rein to be as wild as they wanted, but made it look like she’d done it on purpose instead of rolling out of bed after a nightmare.

  “Chloe? Are you ready?” Troy called through the door.

  Chloe took in a quick breath and held it for the count of three. “Just about.” Not really. She’d almost kissed Troy this afternoon, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to face him again. They’d gotten through the decorating without talking about the supply closet incident, and she hoped they’d be able to put it completely behind them. There was no sense kissing Troy Martin. Not when he’d flat out said that he wasn’t ready to settle down. He didn’t want a wife—heck, he didn’t even want a girlfriend.

  She searched for her purse and spied it on the bed. With one last look at herself in the mirror, she pulled the door open.

  And time stood still.

  Troy, dressed in a navy-blue button-up shirt and gray slacks, was leaning against the door jam with one arm, looking hotter than a radiator without antifreeze. He lifted one side of his mouth in a roguish grin. His eyes went over her hair and across her face, landing on her lips, where they lingered. “Good evening.”

  “Evening,” she managed to reply.

  “You look …”

  She lifted an eyebrow.

  “… really great.”

  Her eyebrow dropped. “Right idea. Bad delivery,” she teased.

  “Oh, and you could do better?” He stood tall, lifting his chin to adjust his tie.

  She stepped closer, reducing the space between them to not-worth-a-mention distance, and reached for his tie. She tugged on the end, flirting, inviting. Her body tingled at the nearness. “I’ve seen you look handsome before …” She lowered the sound of her voice, bringing it to an intimate level. “But right now, in that shirt and tie, you’re absolutely melting me.”

  His eyes burned with desire. “Yeah, that delivery was much better.”

  “You think?” She winked and flipped his tie as she sauntered past. “Maybe you can take a class or something.”

  “Take a …” He reached out and tickled her side, making her burst into giggles. Running down the hall, half turning to get away from him, she didn’t see the group of nicely dressed people waiting in the living room.

  “Stop!”
She laughed and gasped as Troy’s arms snaked around her middle and his fingers found her ribs. Her hair fell across her face as she twisted to break free of his strong embrace.

  Someone cleared their throat, and both she and Troy froze in place. Troy’s hold relaxed enough to look casual. Chloe straightened her dress and pushed her hair over her shoulder, right into Troy’s face. He swiped it out of his way. “Hi, everyone.”

  Teresa smiled indulgently. “Let’s try to keep it out of the supply closet tonight, shall we?”

  Chloe’s eyes bugged open. So everyone did think they were making out in there. “Hmm-ah,” she croaked out.

  As Brian helped Teresa into her coat, Candace gave them a knowing wink. Her long blonde hair was expertly styled and her curves were accentuated by the stunning navy-blue dress that hugged her skin. Oh, to have curves like that. But then, didn’t every woman want what they didn’t have? The grass was always greener on the other side of the fence, and all that. Chloe smoothed her hands over her hips.

  “Come on.” Troy threaded their fingers together. “We’re taking my truck.” He pulled her out the front door and down the freshly shoveled walk.

  “We aren’t riding in the van?” She pointed to the idling vehicle where his family loaded up.

  “I told Ronnie I’d stay and help clean up after the rehearsal dinner.” He opened her door and handed her into the cab. “I’m really excited for you to meet her.”

  “Ronnie?”

  “Yeah. She’s pretty cool.” He stepped back and shut the door quickly, as if saying something nice about his sister embarrassed him. Then again, this was Troy. The man of five words. If he’d said that much about Ronnie, he must care for her a great deal.

  Chloe fidgeted with her seat belt. As a fake fiancée, she shouldn’t care what Troy’s family thought of her—but she did. Before she could think of the reasons why that was, Troy hopped in and asked her to pick a station on the radio. She focused on scanning the channels instead of her feelings, and they made record time getting to the church.

  Stepping through the large double doors was like walking into an ancient library with books older than the Declaration of Independence. There was a hush in the air and the soft hint of cinnamon for the season. Buckets of pine cones held open the chapel doors. The green carpet was soft and still had vacuum lines in it.

  Chloe shed her coat and handed it to Troy to hang up. Off to the left was a gathering room. The caterers were busy setting up tables and laying out a buffet-style spread. Teresa explained that they’d invited many of the extended family who were staying at the B&B to have dinner with them tonight.

  In front of her were the doors to the chapel. Troy offered her his arm, and she rested her hand in the crook of his elbow. “I’ve never been in a church like this before.”

  “What kind of church have you been in?” he asked with a teasing lilt to his voice. She was quickly learning that teasing was a family trait.

  “A couple cathedrals. A few modern buildings.” She lifted a shoulder. “We’d listen to preaching in the truck on the road—from three to four every afternoon. I guess Dad figured that was good enough. I’ve tried out a few different churches. Nothing’s stuck, though.”

  Troy’s smile was full of memories. “I grew up listening to Pastor John on Sundays. Mom even made us do the church youth group during the week.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It was probably a good thing. Me and Grady weren’t bad kids, but we didn’t always think things through. At least Wednesday nights she didn’t have to worry about what we were up to.”

  Chloe smiled. “I can only imagine.”

  They stepped through the doors to the back row of pews and paused. Chloe tipped her head back to take in the stained-glass window. It was dark outside, but she could picture sunlight filtering through the beautiful image and gracing the parishioners with color on Sunday morning. The walls were white and the pews made of wood, stained dark and covered in nicks and chips.

  The rest of the wedding party mingled about, waiting for everyone to arrive. As best man, Troy would stand at the altar with Grady when the procession made their way down the aisle. There was a rolled-up white carpet in front of the podium. White swags of fabric adorned the end of each pew, and there was an archway tastefully covered in vines and poinsettia blooms.

  A pretty brunette with eyes as blue as Troy’s came hurrying down the aisle and threw one arm around both their necks. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” she said with an urgency that had Chloe immediately on edge. This could only be the bride; her high-stress energy surged like a battery charger into Chloe.

  “What did you do?” asked Troy, laughter in his voice. He wasn’t as affected by his sister’s dramatics, if that’s what they were. Chloe had a dark feeling that she wasn’t going to like what was about to come.

  Ronnie dropped her arms and smiled sheepishly. “I hired Amy Mayfair to be the wedding coordinator.”

  Troy’s face went white, and then it went dark red. The color change was so vivid and fast that Chloe was struck speechless. “Why?”

  Ronnie twisted her fingers together. “When I asked, you weren’t dating anyone. I didn’t think it would be a big deal. But now you’re engaged …” She trailed off, casting an apologetic look at Chloe.

  Chloe rubbed her lips together. “I’m missing something. Who’s Amy?”

  “I am,” came the sultry reply from behind them.

  She and Troy turned around at the same time, Troy with his back hunched like he wished he could disappear.

  Chloe’s mouth fell open. The woman was stunning. Long, straight sable brown hair hung over her left shoulder and draped beautifully over her bust. She wore a black dress so tight it had to be spray-painted on, and there wasn’t an ounce of body fat to be found. Seriously. As if that weren’t enough, she had legs as long as the “Twelve Days of Christmas” song and lips so puffy and full they could have been stung by a bee.

  “Troy,” she purred. Yes, purred, like some feline in the jungle of life who’d cozied on up to Chloe’s fiancé—fake fiancé. And cozy up she did, wrapping her willowy arms around Troy’s neck and pressing her perfect body against his in a full-contact hug. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “You too,” Troy choked out. His dark face had gone a bright red. Chloe narrowed her eyes. If he kept drooling over the supermodel wedding planner, Chloe was going to see if she could make him turn blue.

  Amy turned to her and offered a polite and distant smile. “You must be Troy’s plus-one. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Amy Mayfair, wedding planner and ex-girlfriend.”

  “Ah.” Chloe took her limp, outstretched hand, almost crushing it as they shook.

  “My, but you’re a brawny girl.” Amy removed her hand and shook it out.

  Wimp. Chloe smiled/smirked. She hadn’t meant to crush the girl’s delicate fingers, but she was used to shaking hands with men—real men who chewed and spit nails. Okay, not really, but still.

  Her confidence took a hit when she saw Troy offer an apologetic look to Amy. What the heck was that? He shouldn’t be worried about her bird-hands. He should be proud of Chloe for being tough. Or he would if he and Chloe were actually engaged.

  “Troy, let me show you where you’re supposed to stand.” Amy took Troy by the arm and marched him down the aisle.

  Chloe watched the two of them go. The connection she’d felt to Troy stretched like a rubber band, thinning the farther he went off with Amy.

  “So how long did they date?” she asked Ronnie, who was biting her thumbnail. The bride had just had a manicure and it was the day before her wedding. If Ronnie was chewing her nails, this Amy thing was worse than Chloe thought—and she’d been thinking some pretty bad stuff.

  “They were high school sweethearts.” Ronnie covered her face with her hands. “I really didn’t think anything of it until a few minutes before you two got here. Amy asked about Troy, and it hit me that she might be looking, or for … I don’t know. I’m so, so sorry.”
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br />   Chloe swallowed. “At least tell me she broke his heart. Or he broke hers?” If Troy had dumped the woman ages ago because she had six toes on her right foot or was a complete witch, then he wouldn’t be tempted by her again, right?

  Ronnie peeked between her fingers. “I’m not sure. You’d have to ask my mom. I’m six years younger than they are, so I wasn’t around for much of his dating life.”

  “Sure. Sure.” Chloe lifted her chest and did her best to look unconcerned. “I’m sure it’s not a big deal. That was a long time ago.”

  Troy’s deep laughter rose to the rafters. Chloe’s gaze drifted to find him standing in front of the pastor, Amy hanging on him and his every word. The woman’s eyes traced his broad shoulders and swept across his chest with such familiarity it made Chloe’s ears ring. They made a striking couple, Amy with her dark hair and Troy with his thick muscles and amazing blue eyes.

  “I’m going to get everyone started.” Ronnie hustled up the aisle and forced herself between Troy and Amy.

  Amy smiled brightly and became all business. She pointed and directed and teased everyone into place. They all listened to her, looked to her for direction, and responded as if they’d known her since she was in diapers. Probably had.

  Chloe took a seat in one of the middle pews, her stomach aching. Troy joked with Grady, who looked like he was about to float away on the happiness inside of him. He kept looking around for Ronnie, and when he’d spot her he’d stop midsentence and just smile.

  Chloe wanted someone to look at her like that. She ached for it.

  She watched Troy, but he didn’t look at anyone, not even Amy, thank goodness. Although that wasn’t for a lack of Amy trying. She paced back and forth in front of the archway as often as she could manage, even dodging between the bridesmaids and groomsmen as they practiced walking in sync. Chloe sank lower in her chair as Amy deemed the first practice “fine but not quite there.” Everyone went back to their places and started over.

  A man in a charcoal suit worked his way down the pew from the outside edge and sat by Chloe. She smiled over at him. “Hi.”