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Feels Like Home Page 19

by Vicki Lewis Thompson


  Jack had also said there was a slim possibility that Diana, mother to Jack, Wyatt and Rafe, might show up for the wedding. Nash was pretty sure he’d spotted her because she had features that reminded him of Jack. After witnessing firsthand the damage she’d done, Nash wasn’t inclined to be friendly.

  He decided to take his cue from Jack on that one. If Jack had made peace with the mother who’d abandoned him more than thirty years ago, then Nash would do his best to suspend judgment. But he’d witnessed Jack battling his demons as a result of Diana’s actions, and Nash figured Diana had plenty to answer for.

  Nash recognized most of the other wedding guests, who were either members of the Chance family or close friends. But he puzzled over the identity of an old codger in the front row. The guy could pass for Albert Einstein—same wild hair and a nutty professor outfit consisting of a tweed sports coat and plaid pants. Because he sat up front, Nash guessed he was related to Olivia.

  The minister finished, and Wyatt was invited to kiss Olivia. Cheers erupted from the guests, who gave the couple a standing ovation. Nash stepped aside to let the happy couple fly past him and out the front door, followed by Rafe and a woman he didn’t recognize.

  Next came the one most likely to be Diana, escorted by a guy in an expensive-looking suit. He was dry-eyed, but she was in tears. Nash didn’t have much time to think about her, though, because the next person down the aisle was Sarah. Nash, along with everyone in town, considered Sarah Jack’s real mother.

  “Nash!” She stepped out of the procession and rushed over to give him a hug. “You made it!”

  “Better late than never.” He hugged her back and wished he’d accepted the invitation right off the bat. So what if his life was in the dumper? His old friends wouldn’t care about that.

  “This is Pete Beckett, my fiancé. I can’t remember if you’ve met him.”

  “I don’t think so.” Nash shook the guy’s hand. “But congratulations. You’re getting a gem.”

  “I know.” The light in Pete’s eyes when he looked at Sarah convinced Nash he really did know he’d lucked out.

  Nash hoped the same could be said for the Hutchinsons, both father and son. After promising Sarah a dance at the reception, he looked around for his mother. She’d spied him. Bypassing the central aisle, she’d come around the chairs from the other direction and was bearing down on him, trailed by the Hutchinson duo.

  “Nash Bledsoe, did you drive straight through? You did, didn’t you? You know I hate when you do that.” Then she gave him a fierce hug. “Glad you got here safely, you big lunk-head.”

  “Me, too, Mom.” He hugged her back, but over the top of her head he found himself eye-to-eye with Ronald Hutchinson, and behind Ronald stood Hutch, looking decidedly uneasy. As well he should.

  Nash called up his most intimidating stare, the one he’d used to great effect against opposing linemen back in high school. “So, Mom, what’s this I hear about the Hutchinson men making off with the Bledsoe women?”

  His mother laughed as she stepped back and smiled up at him. “Crazy, isn’t it? First Ronald was courting me, and then your sister came to town, and…the rest is history, as they say.”

  Nash’s gaze flicked to Hutch, who was trying to look innocent. Ha.

  Ronald came forward and offered his hand. “For the record, I plan to spoil your mother rotten.”

  “Glad to hear it.” As Nash shook the guy’s hand, he relaxed on his mother’s account. Ronald seemed as smitten with Lucy as Pete Beckett was with Sarah. But that still left the issue of Katrina and Hutch.

  “Well…” Lucy glanced from Nash to Hutch as if feeling the tension between them. “We’ll get on out to the reception. You boys haven’t seen each other for a while. I’m sure you want some private time to talk.”

  “Yeah. See you out there later.” Nash was finally face-to-face with Hutch, and the years faded away. Suddenly they were teenagers again, and he felt the way he had when he’d caught Hutch ogling his sister in a bikini. Before he could censor himself, he swung.

  His fist connected with Hutch’s jaw and Hutch landed on his butt. He looked dazed for a moment, and then he rubbed his jaw and grinned. “Feel better?”

  “Infinitely.” Nash chuckled and shook his head, a little embarrassed at his gut reaction. “Sorry, buddy, but I had to get that out of my system. It’s the big brother thing.”

  “I do understand. Would it help if I said I’d spoil her rotten? That seemed to work for my dad.”

  “Yeah, but I believe your dad.” Nash extended his hand and pulled Hutch to his feet. “You, my friend, are going to have to prove it. So, are you buying her a big old rock or not?”

  Hutch’s grin widened. “As a matter of fact, I am, but she doesn’t know that yet, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t go blabbing to her.”

  “Excellent!” Nash clapped him on the shoulder. “If you’re putting a ring on her finger, then my work here is done.”

  “You’re not leaving, are you?”

  “No, at least not until I’ve congratulated the bride and groom. But I have a messy divorce to clean up back home, and—”

  “Are you planning on staying in Sacramento, then?”

  Nash had debated that for weeks. “I don’t know. We’re selling the stable, so…”

  “Jack would give you a job in a second.”

  “I know, but I hate to trade on friendship for a job.”

  “Bullshit. You’re a good hand and he knows it. You’ve always loved this place. Why not move back for a while, see how it goes?”

  “I might. You know, I just might.” The idea sounded better the more he considered it. “Right now, though, we have a wedding reception going on outside. And if I remember right, the Chances know how to party.”

  “They certainly do,” Hutch said. “Good booze, good music, pretty women. What more could you want?”

  “At the moment, not a damned thing. Let’s go.” But as Nash headed out to the wedding reception with his friend, he knew that in the long run he wanted more, much more. Maybe, just maybe, he could find it at the Last Chance Ranch.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Blazing Midsummer Nights by Leslie Kelly!

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  1

  SOMEONE ONCE SAID that the course of true love never did run smooth. As Mimi Burdette watched two of her good friends sway together in a romantic dance, however, she had to disagree. Because the true love betwee
n this couple had been obvious to everyone who knew them, almost from the moment they’d met.

  “They look like a prince and princess,” murmured Anna, her neighbor, friend, landlady and tonight’s hostess.

  “Considering the setting, maybe a fairy king and queen.”

  She wasn’t kidding. The woods surrounding the backyard of the old plantation house just outside of Athens had been turned into a mythical forest. As dusk fell and a thousand twinkle lights began to gleam in the night, everyone at the engagement party slowed to appreciate the beauty all around them.

  A trio of musicians softly strummed their instruments, the lyrical notes riding a warm, summer breeze. The Spanish moss hanging from the live oaks gleamed silver under the evening dew and the firefly-soft lighting. Magnolias the size of dinner plates dotted the trees, looking like a thousand full moons, filling the air with their evocative scent. Lanterns hung from the lowest branches of the graceful pines, and the arches of a dozen arbors were draped with writhing, sweet-smelling jasmine and heavily laden grapevines.

  Okay, the vines and fruit were fake. But what an effect!

  “You really outdid yourself,” Mimi said to Anna, who stood watching the proceedings, wearing a smile.

  The older woman, dressed as always in colorful, flowing robes, merely shrugged. “Setting the stage for romance is easy when the people involved are meant for each other like Duke and Lyssa.” She chuckled. “Of course, it didn’t hurt that I’m helping with the costumes and props for the downtown theater group’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

  With her filmy, billowing clothes, and her long ash-gray hair, loose and wavy and entwined with flowers, Anna looked more like a hippie than a retiree. So maybe it wasn’t so surprising that she could take a normal backyard, ringed by normal Georgia woods, and turn it into something out of a storybook.

  “Anyway, it was just a few lights, some fabric—easy.”

  “Maybe for you, but other than advertising, the creative wiring was left out of my genetic code. To me, this looks like pure sorcery and magic.”

  The soon-to-be bride and groom deserved a magical wedding. They were wonderful people, and she already missed having them as neighbors. They’d already moved into their new house, but until a week ago, had lived right across the hall from her own first-floor apartment in this grand old estate home.

  Anna and her husband, Ralph—dubbed Obi-Wan because of his love for all things Star Wars and his sage, all-knowing demeanor—had bought the place decades ago and raised their family here. Once the kids were gone, they’d divided the three-story mansion into six small apartments, figuring the rental income would keep them nicely provided for in their retirement.

  With the unit across from Mimi’s vacant, and another unrented one on the second floor, the big house was feeling empty. Plus, Anna and Obi-Wan’s volatile marriage was on the rocks again. Obi-Wan’s one fault was his jealous streak. He was always accusing other men of being after his wife. His latest accusation had angered Anna enough that she had moved into one of the vacant units to teach him a lesson.

  In this economy, three rentals not bringing in any money was not a good thing. She had to wonder where Anna had come up with the funds to throw this engagement party for her former tenants. Mimi had offered to help pay—she could certainly afford it and would have loved to help—but Anna’s pride wouldn’t allow her to accept. The most she would allow was the use of Mimi’s nice discount on much of the food.

  Sometimes it really paid to be the daughter of the owner of a chain of grocery stores. Not to mention being the head of marketing for said grocery store chain, with an express ticket to the executive offices of her family’s business.

  Some people wondered why she lived here, in a small apartment in an old house, when she could afford to buy her own home, or sponge off her parents at their estate. But Mimi loved this place, loved the history of it. More importantly, she loved the sense of community she found here, where she was free to be herself and didn’t have to wear the socialite hat, or the business executive one. She could just be Mimi.

  “Oh,” Anna said, snapping her fingers as she remembered something. “You’re going to have new neighbors. My daughter, Helen, and her little boy are moving from Atlanta next weekend, taking the vacant unit on two. And I rented the apartment across from yours today.”

  “Really? That’s wonderful,” Mimi said, surprised.

  “I invited the new tenant to come tonight, but he didn’t want to intrude—he moved in this afternoon.”

  “You must be so glad,” she said, relieved to know one financial burden had been lifted from her landlords’ shoulders. She doubted they’d take rent money from their daughter, who had gone through a bad divorce last year.

  “One B is a real hottie,” Anna said, her eyebrows waggling.

  “There are more important things than hotness.”

  Definitely more important. She’d been involved with superhot guys in the past and had the psychological burn scars to prove it. The last supersexy, relied-only-on-his-looks guy she’d dated had ended up “borrowing” her credit card and buying a matching pair of his-and-her motorcycles.

  That had been bad. Worse? Mimi hadn’t been the her.

  No way was she stepping close to the flames again. Now when she looked at a man, she was more interested in steadiness, self-confidence and brains. If those things came in nice-looking packages, okay, but looks alone just didn’t cut it.

  Fortunately, it was possible to have all of the above. She only had to look across the crowded party at her own golden-haired escort to see that.

  Dimitri was perfect. He was everything she’d been telling herself she needed, and was nothing like the men who’d hurt her in the past. He’d also been hand-picked for her by her own father, who was notoriously hard to please. Normally, that would be a bad thing; she didn’t like doing what was expected of her, and knew her father to be a bully. But considering her bad luck with romance, and her efforts to improve her relationship with her dad—who stood firmly in the path of her going where she wanted to go professionally, i.e., right into his office once he retired—it seemed like a smart move.

  The icing on the cake? Dimitri was also very handsome.

  But handsome doesn’t always equal hot. And enjoying being with someone definitely doesn’t always lead to physical heat.

  She sighed deeply, wishing that little voice in her head would shut up, even while acknowledging the words were true.

  But it didn’t matter—handsome was enough. Handsome was movie-star good looks, good manners, holding the door. Handsome was every hair in place, jaw smoothly shaven and a nice suit. Handsome was self-confidence borne of being admired by everyone who knew him, and inspiring fantasies of Prince Charming in just about every woman who saw him. Handsome was a good-night kiss with enough tongue to be provocative but not enough to be impolite.

  Handsome was Dimitri.

  Hot was…something else.

  Hot was sexy, rugged and edgy. Hot was unpredictable. Hot smelled sweaty and male, not doused with expensive cologne. Hot had thick muscles that gave proof of utter strength and could make any woman feel feminine by contrast. Hot had an edge of danger, wasn’t always courteous, didn’t treat a lover like a fragile object. Hot had a deep voice, knowing eyes and a stubbled jaw that every woman wanted roughing up her inner thighs. Hot would ensnare a woman…mind, body and soul.

  She fanned herself, acknowledging the truth. Handsome she had. Ho
t she hadn’t seen in a very long time.

  More importantly: handsome she should have. Hot she should stay away from.

  She shook off the mental images. Enough with the hot fantasies. Handsome reality was bringing her a glass of wine, drawing the appreciative stares of every person with a uterus.

  He was hers if she wanted him. And you want him. Damn it, you’d be crazy not to want him!

  But she was beginning to wonder. Heck, she hadn’t even been the one to invite him here tonight. Anna had bumped into him at the store and extended the invitation. Mimi had no idea why he’d accepted, considering he didn’t know anybody here except her. Since he’d said yes, he’d naturally expected Mimi to be his date, which should make any woman extremely happy.

  “Okay, Miss Smarty-Pants, if you’re not about looks, care to explain your date over there?”

  “You invited him,” she pointed out.

  “Only because you’ve gone out with him a few times.”

  “I know, my family swears he’s perfect for me. And he is very good-looking,” she admitted. Then, speaking more to herself, she voiced the concern that had been niggling at her. “But there’s also something called chemistry.”

  “Hate to break it to ya, but you two ain’t got it.”

  She sighed. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Only to an expert like me.”

  And to Mimi. She’d already figured out that good looks didn’t always inspire sparks, and dating someone wasn’t the same as wanting to go to bed with him. If it were, she and Dimitri would probably be sleeping together, or perhaps even engaged, which was what her father was pushing for. Pushing hard.

  Dimitri was a new executive with Burdette Quality Foods, the family business. He was also her Dad’s right-hand man. Cultured, handsome, well-educated. The perfect guy in every way.

  But perfect for her?

  Anna shook her head and tsked. “Honey, it’s obvious you’re experiencing a small sexual dry spell.”

 

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