Because, really.
“You stole my land from me.”
“I did what?”
So, this was all a big mix-up after all. He’d heard her last name and had made assumptions.
Erroneous assumptions.
“You have the wrong person. I live and work in California.”
Which was true, or at least it had been. At this point, she wasn’t sure where she lived, or what she was going to do. She had no job to go back to. All the way over on the flight from Los Angeles to Denver, she’d been wondering what she would do upon returning to her hometown, Carver Creek, Colorado. She’d been praying about the possibility of attempting to reconcile with her brother, whom she hadn’t spoken to in ten years, but she didn’t have any clear direction on that issue yet.
One problem of many, and the day wasn’t even over yet.
And she definitely didn’t own any land.
“No, I don’t think so,” he said, thoughtfully running a hand over his jaw. “Your Aunt Heather married my Uncle Travis.”
“Right. Ring bearer, flower girl. I remember that part, or at least I’ve seen photographs of it. But what does that have to do with you or your land?”
Matthew removed his hat by the drown and plunged his fingers into his thick dark brown hair, leaving messy peaks which he immediately covered with his cowboy hat. He turned away from her, staring silently out a large glass window. It was several moments before he spoke.
“You want to know what happened? Ask your father,” he rasped.
“I can’t do that.”
After Mama had passed on from cancer, Daddy had always treated Riley like a little girl, even when she was grown and living on her own.
But there was another reason she couldn’t turn to her father for answers to this dilemma.
“Daddy died two years ago.”
Chapter Two
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Matthew said, even though in truth he wasn’t sorry at all. Riley’s father, slick-talking lawyer Donovan Weaver, had taken everything away from him and his family.
Riley tilted her head and regarded him steadily. “Is that the best you can do? You don’t sound very sincere.”
He shrugged. He had nothing to apologize for.
His Uncle Travis had inherited the Weaver holdings in Carver Creek when Matthew’s parents had died in a car accident, but Travis had been a man of the land and not book smart, having dropped out of school after eighth grade and never receiving his high school diploma. He had no ambitions beyond running his ranch and raising a family, neither one of which was in the cards for him.
How could she not realize the implications of what had been done all those years ago?
Her gaze was blank. Either she was the best actress Matthew had ever seen or else she really was in the dark about what her father had done. Was that even possible?
“If I recall correctly, I was three years old at the time of the wedding. I don’t remember much of anything that far back,” she said, her mouth screwed up in concentration. Her words could have come out snarky, but instead she sounded as if she really did want to figure out what he was talking about.
Matthew’s gaze dropped to where she delicately chewed on her lush bottom lip, with just the hint of straight white teeth exposed. If she meant to distract him, that was a good way to do it. Covered with just the hint of pink gloss, her lips were downright kissable.
Matthew scoffed inwardly and brought his mind back to the present, annoyed at himself for his unconscious but very real male reaction to a pretty woman.
Riley wasn’t just any woman. It figured that the obnoxious three-year-old Weaver girl he remembered from his Uncle’s wedding had turned out to be such a striking beauty.
“Are you saying you never questioned why your family’s landholdings doubled after your aunt’s divorce from my uncle? It had to have come from somewhere.”
“What land?”
“My land,” he growled. “Or at least, the ranch that was supposed to be passed down to me when I reached adulthood. That all changed when your dad stepped in.”
Her lips curved into a frown.
“What did Daddy do?”
“Made it a little too easy on Travis to divorce Heather. He put pressure on Heather and downright lied to Travis. As a result, my uncle believed Heather when she said she wanted a quiet and easy divorce.
“It was all done quiet and easy, all right. And fast. Uncle Travis signed the divorce papers without the benefit of a lawyer, and without realizing he was literally signing his life away. With one simple scribbled signature, Travis handed over to the Weavers the Wilde’s land, which had been in the family for nearly two centuries.”
Riley’s face flushed under his scrutiny.
“Oh, my,” she breathed, then frowned. “I can’t believe that of him. My father was a hard taskmaster at times, but even so, how can you stand there and accuse him of--”
“We have tables to set up,” he barked, interrupting her mid-sentence before he decided to wring her pretty little neck. It wasn’t her fault she’d been kept totally in the dark.
To distract himself, he pulled his cell phone from his back pocket and checked the time.
“The pizza should be here shortly,” he said. “I ordered a bunch of two-liter sodas and several orders of Buffalo chicken wings and breadsticks, as well. It’s not Sylvestre’s but no one will leave hungry.”
“Let me go in in halves with you,” she said, apparently following his lead and turning her attention to the wedding. “My purse is in the fellowship hall. I don’t know how much cash I have on me, but I can always run to a nearby ATM and pull out some extra.”
He snorted and waved her away. “Already bought and paid for. Don’t worry about it.”
Pizza for nearly twenty people had cost a good chunk of change, which he’d had to put on his credit card. With his wrangler’s salary, it would probably take a while to pay off, but then again, he received room and board from the Bar T Ranch where he worked, so he would be able to use most of his wages to pay it down.
“Well.” She hesitated. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
He was a proud man and his cash flow, or lack of it, was none of Riley’s business. Besides, it was the least he could do for his best friend. Brady had bailed him out of trouble a time or two over the years. Now it was Matthew’s turn to pay him back for all his good deeds.
It didn’t matter that Riley was probably rolling in dough and could have easily picked up the tab. He would bet the Weaver ranch pulled in a good cut every year when they sold their stock. And let’s not forget the fancy-schmancy boarding school Riley had gone to. That certainly must have cost a pretty penny. On the converse side, he’d been a boy on the wrong side of the tracks in what was already a tiny, struggling public school.
Thinking about it just steamed him up under the collar again, so he excused himself and went outside to watch for the pizza guy to show up.
When Matthew returned to the fellowship hall, his arms ladened with pizza boxes and the delivery guy following right behind him with the sodas and tubs of Buffalo chicken wings, he found Riley directing the rest of the wedding party to set up tables and chairs. Brady and Chelsea stood off to the side, his arms tightly locked around his bride-to-be’s waist as they spoke in a whisper.
The bride-to-be had regained her equilibrium during the rehearsal, but now she looked close to tears again. Matthew wouldn’t have wanted to be Brady. Women’s tears were the worst.
Fortunately for Matthew, Riley was all business, encouraging everyone to do what needed to be done with smiles and nods and all-out sunshine, as if this were simply a friendly get-together and not a pathetic excuse for a rehearsal dinner.
“Line the tables up like a capital E,” she called, drawing the letter in the air. “Three parallel tables with chairs on both sides, and then a fourth running across in front for our guests of honor.”
Since Riley appeared to be the one dishin
g out all of the instructions, Matthew approached her and gestured to the pizza boxes he was balancing in his arms.. “Where do you want these?”
“Whoops,” she said gaily. “I completely forgot we need another table to hold the all the food Matthew Wilde has so graciously provided for us for the rehearsal dinner. Let’s set up one more table on the other side of the E.”
Matthew waited until a couple of the groomsmen had set up the extra table before unloading the pizza boxes and gesturing for the delivery guy to dump the bottles of soda and buckets of wings on the other end of the table.
He was opening the pizza boxes to reveal various combinations, everything from his favorite, pepperoni with extra cheese, to Brady’s go-to, an all-meat specialty pizza, when he realized he hadn’t asked the pizza place for plates, cups and utensils, and so all he’d gotten was a handful of napkins. He’d already paid the delivery boy and given him a handsome tip, and the kid had skipped out as soon as he had cash in hand.
“Is there a problem?” Riley appeared at his side, her face tipped up to his as she fastidiously studied his expression.
“Maybe,” he answered in a raspy whisper. He didn’t want to admit that he’d forgotten something so glaringly obvious as serving utensils, but it wasn’t like they could do without. They might be able to grab a roll of paper towels in lieu of plates and eat with their hands, but what were they going to do with the soda?
“How can I help?”
He narrowed his eyes on her. Was she being facetious? Pointing out his weaknesses before he had even voiced what they were?
But no. She appeared to be legitimately asking what she could do.
Not for him, he reminded himself. For Chelsea.
Riley was still a Weaver, but she was Chelsea’s maid of honor, and at the moment, that was where she’d focused all of her attention. Which is what he should be doing as well.
“I forgot about asking for cups to hold the soda.” His voice became increasingly gruff. He lifted his cowboy hat to comb his fingers through his hair and then replaced it before continuing. “And the plates. And the silverware.”
“I’ve got your back.”
She caught him off guard with her words. Again.
“How’s that?”
This is my home church, although it’s been years since I’ve attended here. Still, I happen to know the kitchen is well stocked with everything we’ll need for the dinner. As long as we wash everything up afterward and put it back away where we found it, I don’t imagine anyone will mind us borrowing what we need.”
He breathed out, feeling the stress on his shoulders unknotting. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d tensed up over the issue of the rehearsal dinner. He still wasn’t certain if it was going to turn out all right, whether or not Brady, and especially Chelsea, would be able to roll with the punches and enjoy the food, humble that it was, and the company.
He glanced their direction and found them both laughing and interacting with the wedding party, so maybe this wasn’t a total disaster after all.
That Matthew was by default paired up and working with a woman whose family had ruined his life was much more complicated and far too ironic to put into words. What he wouldn’t do for his best friend—up to and including working with Riley Weaver to make a go of this wedding. They still had a lot to do, so by default he’d be spending more time with Riley.
By the time Matthew and Riley had dug around the kitchen and found what they needed, the wedding party had already opened every pizza box and chicken tub and were digging into the food without even the benefit of utensils. A napkin appeared to be plenty where the pizza was concerned.
Everyone had a good laugh at Matthew’s stunned expression when he entered the fellowship hall from the kitchen and realized he was moving too slow for them.
They might not be dining at Sylvestre’s, but Matthew thought the least they could do was use plates. It was a wedding rehearsal dinner, after all.
“Slobs,” he mumbled under his breath.
“They’re starving. Getting through a wedding rehearsal is hard work, and with the added stress—people have to work it off somehow. What’s your poison?” Riley asked, gesturing at the pizza.
“Pepperoni. Extra cheese.”
“Me, too. And the Buffalo wings. How about that for coincidence?”
Matthew didn’t believe in coincidences. He’d learned early on in his life that he could either go it alone or put his faith in God. He’d chosen not to walk life’s path alone. But this—set of circumstances—was beyond anything Matthew could explain.
There must be a reason he and Riley had been thrown together this way. God always knew what He was doing, even if, as now, Matthew felt totally in the dark.
He glanced at Brady and Chelsea, who were reigning like a king and queen at the front table. They were talking and laughing with the wedding party, and everyone appeared to be enjoying their pizza.
Good. Matthew was glad to see the bride and groom to be were taking a breather, because the next twenty-four hours were going to be the craziest, and no doubt most stressful, of their entire lives.
And not just for Brady and Chelsea, but for Matthew and Riley, as well.
And speaking of Riley—where was she?
He found her at the far end of the last table taking a bite of her pepperoni pizza and making an expression of pure bliss as she chewed. She waved at him when she met his gaze and gestured for him to come sit in the chair next to her.
The only empty chair in the room.
Didn’t that just figure?
*
Riley was usually pretty good at reading people, but she didn’t have the slightest clue what to do with Mr. Hot-and-Cold Broody Cowboy. He acted like he didn’t want to talk to her, or even be around her, but then again, he did. He apparently had some accusations left to sling at her.
Well, she’d set him straight on those issues soon enough.
Right now, they had a wedding to plan.
“Let’s see,” she said, setting her pizza on her plate. She’d taken a few nibbles, but her stomach was clenching too tight with the stress gnawing at her for her to really feel like eating. “Where should we start? I suppose with the actual wedding, and then we’ll get to the reception.” She took out her phone and pulled up her favorite To-Do app.
He glanced at her and took a huge bite of pizza. What was it with men that made them want to stuff an entire plate of food into their mouths at once?
Riley stopped just sort of rolling her eyes.
“We all have our formalwear, and Chelsea has her dress back at the bed and breakfast we’re staying at. That’s a major relief. No dress would have been a disaster.”
“As if the rest of this isn’t,” he muttered between bites.
“At least we have something to check off the list.”
“You haven’t made a list yet,” he pointed out wryly, still chewing his food.
“I’m speaking in hypothetical terms. The real list starts now. We can probably do without a runner for the aisle.”
“A runner?” He looked at her blankly.
“Like the red carpet?”
“Oh.”
She chuckled, wondering just what it was he had pictured. The torch bearer at the Olympic games?
“Flowers. We need lots of flowers. And since it’s Christmas time, our decorations should probably lean toward pine and poinsettias.”
“Can’t we fudge on those, too?”
“I don’t see why we should. Surely some of the wedding party have picked up poinsettias to decorate their houses with. Silver and gold garland. Pine wreaths. Hey—we could even tape Christmas ornaments on the ends of the pews. Between everyone, I’ll bet we can garner enough to decorate the church. Boutonnieres aren’t hard to make. We just need some strong magnets or large safety pins and some floral tape. Worst case scenario, we buy fake flowers at a local craft store, but I don’t think that will be necessary.”
“Poinsettias,” she typed into he
r cell phone. “Evergreen decorations. Garland. Ornaments. What else do we need?”
“You’re asking me?”
“Do you see me staring at anyone else?”
“Look, I’ll help you hang what needs hanging and decorate what needs decorating. Whatever you need. But brainstorming a wedding is way out of my skill set.”
“At least sit there and look interested.”
He scoffed and folded his arms across his broad chest.
“Bryan Watkins works at a print and ship shop. We can ask him to put together an order of service with the names of the bride and groom, bridesmaids and groomsmen. It shouldn’t take too much time, effort or money to come up with something classy.”
“What about music?” Matthew asked.
“Music?” Riley was surprised that Matthew had thought about that. He didn’t look like the musical type, or at least nothing beyond flipping on a country and western radio station in his truck.
“Doesn’t Chelsea need a wedding march or something?”
“Absolutely. She wants a traditional wedding, all the way down to the bridal march. Actually, come to think of it, she said something about having hired a string quartet.”
“Like violins and stuff? Where are we going to get that?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know anyone who plays an instrument, and everyone here in this room is in the wedding party, so we can’t ask them. Maybe one of them has a friend or relative who could step in, although this would be extremely late notice for a live musician.”
“What if we set up a sound system and streamed it? Surely we can find a download of whatever the name of the wedding song is.”
“Wagner’s Lohengrin,” she said. “Don’t ask me how I know that. It just popped into my head out of nowhere.”
He laughed, a rumbling sound from deep in his chest. His expression lightened momentarily, taking years off his features. Her heart skipped a beat at the transformation his smile made. He was actually ruggedly handsome without the persistent frown he’d been wearing all evening.
In another time and place she might have found him attractive, but there was something distinctly unattractive about a man—a virtual stranger, no less—who had accused her of ruining his life.
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