Something Sweeter

by Candis Terry

  “I haven’t forgotten that. Just about the tuxes.”

  “Hmmm. Mind elsewhere?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dumb question. The smirk on her face said it all. God, she was worse than his brothers with the meddling business.

  “Nothing.” She glanced toward the door. “I think they can pick up where I left off.”

  He looked up just as the door opened and in walked Reno, Jackson, and Jake, slapping each other on the backs and laughing like they’d just shared the funniest joke. He had to admit they were a good-­looking bunch, even as a pang hit him right in the heart.

  Reno was about to be married, and one of the brothers would miss the ceremony. As would their father.

  Jesse had to take a deep breath to clear the overwhelming sense of loss from his chest.

  “You ready to go?” Reno asked him, while Jackson went around the desk and stole a kiss from his girl.

  “Yeah,” Jesse answered. “Why do you look so nervous? Second thoughts?”

  “Hardly. I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  “What would I be having second thoughts about?”

  “He meant . . .” Jake planted his feet and folded his arms, looking every bit the badass Marine. “Why the hell do you look so nervous?”

  Behind him, Jesse heard a snicker and couldn’t tell if it came from Abby, Jackson, or both. He didn’t turn to look. “Because I’m about to get in a truck with a bunch of jackasses where I’ll be stuck listening to you yammer on about nothing the whole ride to San Antonio.”

  “Uh-­huh.” Reno flashed his dimples. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain brunette who’s about to get on a plane and fly out of here, would it?”

  Jesse tossed the scheduling calendar on the desk. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Ooooh,” Jackson hooted. “Paddling upstream on the River of Denial.”

  With a toss of his white jacket on the peg near the desk, Jesse turned and headed for the door. “Y’all coming?”

  “Nope.” Jake grinned. “Just breathing hard.”

  “Jesus.” Jesse pushed open the door and headed out to the parking lot. His brothers followed, hooting laughter like drunken sailors. It was going to be a long haul to San Antonio. Because as much as he wanted to deny, deny, deny, there was something sweeter about Allison Lane than she was ready to reveal.

  And damned if it didn’t just pique his curiosity.

  Allison shoved her laptop, which contained a new blog post about the possibility of failing to find the one because you might live in different regions, into her carry-­on bag and closed the zipper. Wee Man leaped off the bed and did a little dance on his hind legs when her dad popped his head into the guest room.

  “You about ready?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” She hiked the bag over her shoulder and looked up. His gloomy expression nearly buckled her knees. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m gonna miss you, little girl.”

  Her heart crumpled at the endearment he’d always called her, not because she was the youngest or the shortest, but because he always said no matter if she was 102, she’d still be his little girl. She dropped the bag on the bed and went to him. When she curled her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest, she heard his heart thump a little out of time.

  “I’ll be back soon,” she promised.

  “Won’t be the same as having you here every day.” He leaned back, looked at her, and smiled. “I like your face.”

  She chuckled. “I like your face too.”

  “I wish I could talk you and your sister into moving here. But I know that could never happen.” He embraced her again. A teensy bit tighter this time. “I want you to know how proud of you I am. Of both of you. As screwed up as we both are, I don’t know how your mother and I ever made such spectacular children.”

  “Daddy, don’t say that. You’re as normal as they come.” She leaned back and looked up into a face full of character that never failed to break into a smile as soon as he’d see her. “Mom, on the other hand . . .”

  A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Yes, they certainly broke the mold with her.”

  “Thank God.” Allison had always tried to love her difficult, frenetic, and flighty mother. Most times it wasn’t easy. Especially when her mother insisted, “You’re just like me, Allie. You just don’t have settling down in your DNA. Life should be a carnival of delicious treats, not a forced slab of the same humdrum meat loaf every day.”

  Her mother had said it enough times that Allison feared it might be true. She’d spent too many years beneath the tutelage of the woman whose narcissism couldn’t help but seep into Allison’s head. As a result, she tired of things—­and ­people—­quickly. She’d never kept a boyfriend longer than six months. Once they were ready to move in, she moved on. While her dad had always told her she could do anything and be anything, her mother tried to convince her that a new pair of shoes would keep her happy longer than any man.

  Unfortunately, Allison had quite a shoe fetish.

  She still wondered how her father had managed to stick it out for so long. Since the day her parents divorced, he’d been alone. But maybe that was nothing new. Even if her mother had been in the same room, it was like she wasn’t there. She was a shell of a woman too wrapped up in glamour magazines to pay attention to what was going on in the real world.

  Or the ­people who were right under her nose.

  When Allison and Danielle became heavily involved in the event-­planning business, she often went too long without seeing her dad, and she’d been eaten up with guilt. Though she hadn’t quite gotten all her questions regarding Jana Wilder resolved, she would be as selfish as her mother if she didn’t want him to be happy.

  “Well.” Her dad grabbed her bag up off the bed, turned, and gave her a wistful smile. “We’d best get going, so you don’t miss that plane.”

  Emotion clogged her throat, and she simply nodded.

  “Daddy?” On the way out the door, she touched his sleeve, and he stopped. “If you ever need me. For anything. And I truly mean anything. You call me, and I’ll be on the next flight. Okay?”

  He lifted his hand to her cheek and gave it an affectionate stroke. “How about if I just want to see your face?”

  “Perfect.”

  Something was wrong.

  When Allison, her dad, and Wee Man walked past a yellow ribbon wearing Miss Giddy on Jana’s back veranda to say good-­bye, Allison immediately sensed the gloom.

  As soon as they entered the kitchen, they found Jana and Charli at the table with their heads in their hands, staring into cups of coffee Allison imagined had grown cold.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  Both women looked up.

  “Oh, nothing a little miracle won’t fix.” Jana popped up from her chair and went into Southern hospitality mode. “Coffee and biscuits before you head to the airport?”

  “No thanks.” Allison sat down beside Charli, noting the sheer panic in her brown eyes. “Anything I can do?”

  “The wedding is in two weeks,” Charli said. “I’ve heard something crazy always happens to put a wrench in the works. We just got pile-­driven with three servings of crazy.”

  “Believe me, that’s not a record,” Allison said, while Jana and her father murmured over by the coffeepot.

  “Seriously?” Charli’s eyes widened.

  Allison nodded. “So what’s going on?”

  Charli held up her hand and began counting the events off with her fingers. “The local florist had a family tragedy and had to close down the shop until further notice. The reception venue had a water pipe burst, and the place was flooded. And the deejay we hired for the reception was just arrested on robbery charges. Like he couldn’t wait until after our wedding to get stupid?”

 
Though it wasn’t a funny situation, Allison chuckled. “Those are easy fixes.”

  “Maybe not.” Jana set a steaming cup of coffee down in front of her. “This is Sweet. And it’s the busiest time for weddings because midsummer is too hot. Trying to find replacements for everything will be—­”

  “Impossible,” Charli said, sounding very much like Eeyore.

  After meeting Charli the other night and witnessing her lively spirit, Allison knew this reaction was completely the opposite of her normal can-­do personality.

  Charli shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I used to deal with crises like this on the show all the time. But this . . .”

  “Is different.” Allison understood. “Because this is your crisis.”

  “I just don’t want Reno to be disappointed.”

  “Sugarplum”—­Jana sat on Charli’s other side and rubbed a hand over her back—­“as long as he gets to marry you, he doesn’t care when, where, or how.”

  A timid smile touched the corners of Charli’s mouth.

  Though the airline ticket was burning a hole in her purse, Allison didn’t hesitate to swan dive into the situation. “I can help.”

  Jana gave her a look of surprise.

  Charli gave her a look of hope.

  Her father smiled.

  “How?” Charli asked. “I mean, I know you’re a wedding planner. But you’re getting on a plane. And you live in Seattle. And I couldn’t impose. And I know you’re busy. And—­”

  “I can help.” Confident she could do just that, Allison leaned back in her chair and looked at her father. “Daddy? Would you mind calling the airlines for me?”

  “I’m on it,” he said, and away he went.

  Jana put on a fresh pot of coffee, and heads came together over that sunflower tablecloth. Hours, and a plate of cinnamon rolls later, Allison stood up, notes in hand, prepared to wage war on the events that threatened Charli and Reno’s chance at happiness.

  Before she made it to the back door, Jana grabbed her in a hug.

  “Thank you, sugarplum,” Jana whispered, then leaned back and looked at her with complete gratitude in her bright blue eyes. “I can’t tell you how much this means to us. Reno and Charli—­”

  “Deserve the very best,” Allison said. Her father had told her of Reno’s tragic past of losing his former fiancée to a head-­on collision a week before their wedding. And he’d told her of the incredible love story that brought Charli and Reno together.

  Allison took a deep breath. Sometimes a girl just had to do what was right. Even if that girl had a million doubts. These two wonderful ­people deserved the opportunity to find their forever together. And she’d do her best to make damned sure it happened.

  Halfway out the door, Jana stopped her again.

  “I know you need to get that rental car back, and I’m sure you don’t want your daddy chauffeuring you around. You need transportation.” Jana grabbed a set of keys off a brass-­rooster key holder near the door and handed them to Allison. “Use Jared’s truck.”

  A chill slipped up Allison’s back. If Jana had kept her son’s truck after all this time, it must be sacred. “Oh. I don’t . . . I wouldn’t . . .”

  “It’s perfectly okay. Jared would be thrilled to have a beauty like you behind the wheel. We’ve pretty much kept everything as he left it, but feel free to toss it all in the backseat.”

  No way. As Allison tentatively took the keys in her hand, she knew she’d do everything she could not to move a thing.

  “It’s got a full gas tank,” Jana said. “Jackson always refills it whenever he takes it out and runs it low.”

  “I can call the car agency and just extend the rental. It wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Don’t be silly. The truck’s just sitting there. You might as well make good use of it.”

  “Well . . . thank you.”

  “Come on.” Her dad tilted his head toward the door. “I’ll show you where it’s parked. Jana and I can return the loaner for you, so you can get started on the wedding stuff.”

  Allison followed him, her wedge shoes wobbling in the gravel drive. When he pulled open the big doors to a huge old shed, she peered from the sunlight into the darkness. Her dad flipped on the light. Inside, there were a ­couple of old cars that looked to have been restored. A turquoise one with red interior in particular caught her eye, and she hummed her appreciation.

  “That’s Jared’s pride and joy.” Her dad pointed to a green truck.

  Holy schnikeys.

  Apparently, everything was bigger in Texas.

  Hours later, Allison pulled the mammoth truck to the side of the road. With darkness stealing away daylight, she knew she’d accomplished a lot since leaving Jana Wilder’s warm and cozy kitchen. However, a lot wasn’t enough with Charli and Reno’s wedding day looming.

  As she sat parked beneath a particularly large oak, she glanced around the cab of the truck and studied the belongings of the forever-­lost Jared Wilder.

  Before she’d hung it over the seat back so Wee Man didn’t use it as a bed, there had been a gray USMC T-­shirt on the passenger side. Dog tags dangled from the rearview mirror. And to verify Jared had been a smoker, a crumpled pack of Marlboros sat wedged between the dashboard and windshield. Tucked up into the sun visor, she’d found a photograph of all the handsome Wilder boys, with Abby tucked in the middle. The first time she’d turned the engine over, she’d had to turn down the volume on the CD player blasting Waylon Jennings’s “I’ve Always Been Crazy.”

  She might never have met Jared, but from the items left in his truck, she could get a hint of the kind of man who’d led the band of Wilder brothers.

  Sadness tugged at her heart as she reached up and touched the swinging metal tags with his name and info engraved on them. For a moment, she studied his image in the photo.

  Such a loss.

  She thought of Jana Wilder and had a newfound respect. The woman really had been through a lot. She deserved to be happy, just as her dad did. Though there were still questions to be answered, Allison’s initial reserve was beginning to melt away.

  Heart a little heavier, she tucked the photo up into the visor and got back to business. She plugged her cell phone battery cord into the cigarette lighter and began to read the numerous texts from Danielle she’d conveniently ignored until now. The news wasn’t good. Case in point—­Audrey Shackelford changed the entire color scheme of her wedding a month before the big day, and little Tommy Morgan’s parents filed for divorce two weeks before little Tommy’s first birthday. Apparently, now the parents were fighting over who would have custody of Tommy on the big day. Everything was on hold pending a court decision.

  Over the years, Allison had learned to roll with the punches being an event planner threw at you. Sometimes those punches left you with a stomachache.

  While Wee Man settled his paws on the windowsill and snapped at each passing car as if he thought he could catch it, she tapped out a few text replies to her sister. Disasters momentarily averted, she put the truck in motion.

  Last chore of the day?

  Taking a look at her final prospect for the misplaced reception.

  She’d hit up everywhere in a ten-­mile radius, and none had seemed right. They’d either been too small, too tacky, or just too awful. With any luck, this last place to see would miraculously be the one.

  Several miles later, she parked and walked up to a large yellow Victorian farmhouse with crisp white trim and an inviting wraparound porch that included a bench swing at one end and two white rocking chairs side by side at the other. An assortment of colorful pots filled with daisies, alyssum, and geraniums bordered the red front door. And the welcome mat at her feet said “Howdy.” The entire place oozed charm.

  As the sun dipped low in the sky, and Wee Man tap-­danced at her side, she rang the
doorbell, then stepped back to wait. While butterflies did aerial acrobatics in her stomach, she looked down to her dog. “You behave yourself in here, mister.”

  Wee Man looked up at her with his big brown eyes as if to say “I will.” But she knew him, and he tended to be a little ADD. Any command she gave to him now would be instantly forgotten once the door opened up into a new Adventureland.

  With no response, she stepped forward and rang the bell again. While she still had her finger on the little brass button, the door opened, and there stood Jesse Wilder.

  Wet and nearly naked.

  Her gaze took an indulgent tour of all those exposed muscles and tanned skin. The rest of him was covered by a pair of blue board shorts that hung low on his lean hips. A wings-­of-­freedom tribal tattoo decorated his left biceps and another tattoo on the inside of his right forearm read NO REGRETS. Water dripped from his untied hair down his long, lean body and onto the slate floor tiles.

  Allison swallowed.

  Jesse Wilder had the kind of physique a woman wanted to run her mouth and hands all over.

  She curled her fingers into her palms for safekeeping, as a slow smile spread across his gorgeous face.

  “Hello, darlin’. I wondered when you’d show up at my door.”

  She rolled her tongue back up into her mouth and, without waiting for an actual invite, strolled inside. The house was accented with lots of stone and wood. The rich leather furnishings were sparse but tasteful. Yet other than a Tombstone movie poster and at least a sixty-­inch flat-­screen TV, there wasn’t much else to the decor. Aside from the very inviting layout, the house was definitely a man cave.

  Wee Man trotted inside like he owned the place, and Jesse greeted him with a “Hey, buddy.”

  “You were last on my list,” she said.

  Jesse shut the door and grinned. “What do I need to do to be first?”

  Her eyes took another trip down his body.

  Not much.

  “You can show me your facilities,” she managed to say without tripping over her tongue.

  “I have to show you around before I can climb on top?”

  Oh, and didn’t that just create images in her head. “I need to see if what you have will fit the need.”