Staying For Good (A Most Likely To Novel Book 2)

by Catherine Bybee

  Zoe’s cell phone buzzed, sitting next to her. Carefully making sure she didn’t scuff her freshly polished nails, she checked her text messages.

  The reception tent is up, the tables are set . . . the flowers have arrived and the florist is spreading them everywhere. Tell Mel not to worry.

  “Who was that?”

  “Luke, he wants you to know everything is on time and set up or close to it.”

  Mel grinned ear to ear. “Eeek! I’m getting married today!”

  Jo blew on her fingers. “You’re such a dork, Mel.”

  There were four of them on the porch. Along with Wyatt and Luke, Wyatt’s father sat drinking coffee, and Mark was drinking a beer.

  “Is this considered supervising?” Luke asked.

  Bill glanced over the paper in his hand, then ducked back to whatever he was reading. “You wanna jump in that and help, go right ahead. When someone shoots your head off for doing something wrong, you’ll be back.”

  “Sounds like too much trouble for me,” Mark said.

  Wyatt slouched down in his chair and closed his eyes. “Someone wake me by two.”

  Luke looked at his watch. “I guess that would be my job.” Damn it . . . he could use a nap, too. But someone needed to stay awake to get the groom showered and ready on time.

  “Do we have everything?” Mel asked.

  They had a makeup bag, extra hair spray, and an emergency repair kit in case one of them should break a nail in the next hour.

  All three of them were still in sweatpants and button-up cotton shirts. That way they wouldn’t mess up anything removing clothes to put on their dresses. Dresses that were hanging in Mel’s room at the inn.

  “Oh, shit,” Jo exclaimed and then ran into her bedroom.

  When she returned, she held a holstered gun the size of her palm.

  “What do you need that for?” Mel asked.

  Jo walked past them and out the door. “Don’t worry, it straps to my thigh. No one will know I have it.”

  Zoe rolled her eyes. “Dork.”

  Luke swiveled his head when the screen door opened.

  Miss Gina poked her head out and motioned toward the sleeping Wyatt. “Don’t let him in here.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, the girls just arrived, and Mel doesn’t want to see him until she walks down the aisle.”

  They both glanced at the sleeping groom.

  “I don’t think she needs to worry.”

  Miss Gina shook her head. “I’ll let you know when it’s clear.”

  It took every effort and muscle under her skin to not leave Mel’s side when the trucks arrived with the food.

  In their strapless gowns the color of dusty pink with silver sequins adding drama to the bodices, Jo and Zoe stood side by side, taking in the bride.

  Mel’s eyes sparkled brighter than the diamond drop earrings she’d borrowed from Zoe for the day.

  The photographer snapped pictures of Melanie framed by the lace-covered window.

  “Spectacular.”

  Jo nodded her agreement, and someone knocked on the door.

  Zoe peeked out, making sure it wasn’t Wyatt.

  Felicia, Mel’s mother, stood in the doorway, holding Hope’s hand.

  Zoe ushered them in and quickly closed the door.

  Hope wore a princess-cut dress in the same color as Zoe’s and Jo’s. With curls in her hair and flowers in the barrettes, she was a smaller version of the adults. The eyes in the room focused on Hope as she walked up to her mother and placed her hand on Mel’s dress. “Oh, Mommy, you’re beautiful.”

  Mel knelt down and placed a hand on Hope’s face. “Thank you, sweetheart. And look at you. Did Grandma help with the flowers in your hair?”

  Hope glanced at Felicia and nodded.

  Another knock on the door announced Miss Gina and Felix, who brought with them the flowers the bridal party was going to carry.

  Zoe grinned. “Not long now.”

  Luke nudged Wyatt awake. “Dude.”

  Wyatt blinked a few times and stretched from his chair. “Time to shower?”

  “Probably not a bad idea.”

  Wyatt and Luke made their way up the back stairs while Mark and Bill went around the front.

  The water pressure in the inn kinda sucked, but at least it was hot.

  The mothers left with the photographers, and Hope bounded down the stairs with her newest best friend, Felix.

  Zoe just hoped someone had the good sense to tie up the dog far enough away that they wouldn’t hear him barking throughout the night. The image of Sir Knight frolicking through the catering trays was nails on a chalkboard in her head.

  Jo glanced out to the yard below. “Looks like people are starting to arrive.”

  “Do you see Wyatt?” Mel asked, several feet from the window.

  “Nope.”

  “He’s here, don’t worry.”

  Mel placed a hand to her stomach. “Oh, God.”

  “Finally nervous?”

  Mel shook her head. “I think we forgot to eat.”

  Luke straightened Wyatt’s tie. “You know, you clean up pretty good, Gibson.”

  Wyatt slapped the side of Luke’s arm and winked. “Not too bad yourself, Miller.”

  Luke glanced at his watch. “Now what do we do for thirty minutes?”

  Wyatt pulled at the cuffs of his sleeves. “I say we sneak a few shrimp thingies before everyone eats them all.”

  “I like the way you think.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Luke always thought it would be him standing in the number one spot and Zoe in white.

  His heart kicked so hard when she rounded the corner and walked down the aisle he thought he might pass out.

  Zoe Brown dominated the space she carried herself through. Her dark hair was piled high, the bodice of the gown dipped just enough to be classily sexy.

  She smiled at familiar faces as she took her time walking up and rolled her eyes at Felix, who dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief.

  Then she looked at him and her smile turned radiant.

  For the first time in what felt like forever, he knew they were on the same page.

  It was Jo’s turn in the spotlight, and Luke had to admit . . . the town sheriff cleaned up really well. Is that cleavage? He’d never noticed Jo having a rack.

  Many of the people in the crowd lived in River Bend, and he was fairly certain they were all muttering the same thing.

  Holy, shit . . . that’s Sheriff Ward.

  Obviously Wyatt wasn’t looking at the bridesmaids. He leaned in and whispered, “You have the ring, right?”

  Luke let his smile drop and his eyes grow wide.

  He knew he gave his friend a tiny heart attack before he winked with a smile.

  “Fuck you, Miller,” he whispered.

  Mark, who stood beside Luke, chuckled under his breath.

  “Not my type, Gibson.” And Luke’s gaze once again landed on Zoe. Her profile, her beauty, her poise. He wanted to call her his . . . like really call her his.

  Hope was next, tossing rose petals as she walked a little too fast in front of her mom.

  Once Hope made it to the podium, she walked right up to Wyatt.

  He leaned down to hear her words.

  “I do, too.”

  There were plenty of ahs and ohs before the music changed and everyone stood.

  When Mel turned the corner, she received the reaction she deserved.

  She was beautiful, and blushing, and smiled all the way to Wyatt’s side.

  Pictures took well over an hour. While Zoe enjoyed the fun and banter of the moment, she couldn’t help but wonder how everything with the food was going.

  Wyatt had recruited several of the track kids to don black pants and white shirts to serve.

  Felix had taken the liberty of directing a cameraman to ensure a proper wedding video as his gift to the bride and groom.

  “This is lovely, Zoe. Exactly the kind of thing that isn
’t being done on any of the culinary shows.”

  “There is more to a wedding than food.”

  Felix pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Say that to them.”

  The them he spoke of were the wedding guests destroying the appetizers.

  She’d sampled them herself and knew Ernie and Tiffany had brought their A game. She made a mental note to pay it forward when life settled down.

  Thinking of calm had her doing another scan of the guests mingling outside of the tent.

  She was the only Brown in attendance.

  It pained her at the same time it relieved her. The last thing any of them needed was pushy brothers or ex-con fathers. Her job on this day was to shelter Mel from anything ugly and make sure the food was something River Bend would talk about for years.

  Since the maid of honor had a sidearm strapped to her thigh, Zoe figured Jo had Mel taken care of.

  Luke snuck up beside her, placed an arm around her waist. “It’s killing you, isn’t it?”

  “What?” She glanced over his shoulder at the catering tent.

  “C’mon. They don’t need us here any longer.” Luke pulled her away from the photographer and toward the reception tent.

  Zoe felt her pulse returning to normal the closer she got.

  She was vaguely aware that Felix followed and snapped his fingers in the air. At what, she wasn’t sure. Her focus was linear.

  Check the food.

  Was it hot?

  Did the cream sauce survive the drive over?

  Did they need Miss Gina’s kitchen for more than a working sink?

  She buzzed around the servers and behind the serving station.

  The cream sauce survived . . . it wasn’t hot enough outside to wilt the lettuce for the salads.

  She sampled everything. When she reached the Italian dressing, she found a problem.

  “Tiffany?”

  With a wave of a hand, Tiffany was by her side.

  “What’s it missing?”

  They used a tiny, straw-like siphon for Tiffany to sample.

  She tasted it twice . . . “Oregano.”

  “Exactly!” Zoe waved Tiffany to follow over.

  In high heels that had no place traipsing around a yard, Zoe led Tiffany to a garden on the side of Miss Gina’s inn.

  She pointed. “Do what you can with what we have. Better to run out of something fabulous than serve something forgettable.”

  Tiffany moved beyond the small fence meant to keep the dog from digging up their efforts.

  When Zoe turned, Felix and Luke stood beside her, and a cameraman had the lens focused on her, recording.

  She looked at both of them like they were crazy. “What are you doing? That dressing needs to get into the kitchen for Tiffany to fix.” It was her turn to snap her fingers. “Let’s go. We don’t have much time.”

  Jo noticed the moment Zoe pulled away, with Luke and Felix standing over her.

  Jo stood to the side, watching over Mel as she and her brand-new husband posed for pictures that would someday make their way over a mantel.

  Wyatt lifted Hope into his arms and made sure there were plenty of family pictures of the three of them.

  A moment of nostalgia hit her, watching the photographer snap that shot.

  Her father had kept a cherished photo of the three of them on his desk. Jo’s mom, before she’d died, her dad, and Jo at an age not too far from Hope’s.

  They’d smiled for the camera . . . a moment frozen in time.

  Only someone took that away. Twice.

  Jo had to look away, and when she did, she felt eyes on her.

  Her senses heightened, and the weight of the gun strapped just above her knee reminded her she wasn’t defenseless.

  Guests filled the lawn from every corner.

  Many were looking at her. Probably because she had a shit-ton of makeup on and a dress that defined her as a woman and not a cop.

  She stretched her neck.

  She liked the cop on the inside.

  The girlie girl all dressed up . . . not so much.

  After a successful dinner, the dishes were cleared, and Zoe could finally breathe.

  Dessert consisted of piles of tiny delicacies, appreciated by everyone.

  The cake was the only culinary taste not created by Zoe and her staff. The pastry chef in charge, however, made a point to deliver the cake herself. When she did, she asked Zoe’s opinion and floated with her praise.

  Zoe posed for a picture with the woman and couldn’t help feeling a little self-pride.

  Mel had opted for a DJ. Fog had a tendency to sock in as the day wore on, which would muffle live music and annoy those trying to enjoy the wedding party.

  Day slowly turned into night.

  Lights that belonged in the local Christmas tree lot in December lit up the space between the inn and the tent.

  Inside the tent, there were table centerpieces with candles, lights propped up on the sides, and several massive glowing balls in the center.

  For most of the night and pictures, Jo had been paired up with Luke, since he was taking the best man position.

  Zoe stood beside Mark, Mel’s brother, and smiled.

  Yet when Mel and Wyatt had their first dance, and Wyatt showed his father had taught him how to move, it was time for the wedding party to join them.

  Zoe glanced toward Mark, who was already grabbing Jo’s hand.

  She laughed and made her way into Luke’s arms. “You planned that,” she whispered.

  “I’m tired of seeing another man holding what’s mine.”

  Zoe stopped midstride to the dance floor. “What’s yours?”

  He hesitated, tugged her close. “You have a problem with that?”

  With someone other than Luke . . . maybe.

  She bit her bottom lip and snuggled closer.

  People were watching but she didn’t care.

  She placed her head on Luke’s shoulder and let him lead her through a song she was fairly certain played at their high school prom.

  The music shifted and someone tapped Luke’s shoulder.

  Tickled, Zoe let Mr. M lead her in a dance.

  “You did a great job.”

  “You liked the food?” she asked.

  He patted his stomach. “A little of Audrey’s, too, I’m afraid.”

  The excitement of that simple feat wasn’t something Zoe could completely describe.

  Making things right . . . making people happy was something she’d been born to do. It took leaving River Bend to realize she could and returning to River Bend to make it count.

  Mr. M had some serious moves . . . he spun her when others were just swaying to the music.

  She laughed and kept up, and when the music softened, Mr. M leaned in close enough so only she could hear. “You’re like a daughter to me, Zoe . . . it makes my heart full to see you happy.”

  Instead of letting the tears that suddenly filled her eyes fall, she rested her head on his chest and let him lead her in a slow dance. When he pulled away, she kissed his cheek.

  He walked away, and her eyes gravitated to Luke.

  With a sigh, she opened her arms and willed him to fill them.

  He slipped out of the house.

  Zane had finally left. The kid wasn’t acting right. A little too quiet, a little too watchful.

  Not right.

  Zanya managed to quiet her kid and Sheryl pretended to sleep.

  So Ziggy slid out.

  He didn’t dare drive a car . . . there was more than one person with a badge in this town, and he’d bet money that Deputy Emery sat close by with an eye on his trailer door.

  But he knew the back way to the inn.

  If only to watch the players and see who still lived in town.

  The property surrounding the bed-and-breakfast was dark compared to the light coming from the reception in full swing.

  It was late for a small town that normally rolled up its welcome mats by nine o’clock. Yet there didn’t
seem to be many spaces along the road where people had pulled out to return home.

  Keeping out of sight, Ziggy picked out the major players quickly. It helped that the only people formally dressed were the wedding party.

  He found his daughter first. She walked around like she owned the place. Her nose sat firmly in the air, even as she danced. When she tilted a tall glass with what he assumed was champagne, his mouth watered.

  Everyone, it seemed, held a glass of something in their hands.

  And why not? They were adults. He was a fucking adult and yet he was treated like a child, limited to a diet of milk and water.

  Ziggy narrowed his gaze when he found little JoAnne Ward.

  She didn’t look like a cop now. Busty and round enough in the right places to forget the little girl she’d once been.

  Sheryl was too thin, he decided. Too easy to climb on and bend.

  He needed a challenge. Something to get him living again. Because River Bend was just a bigger jail. A jail with a tiny girl running the joint.

  The woman in question suddenly stopped talking to whomever she was with and turned his way.

  He sank farther into the shadows and didn’t divert his focus until she returned to her conversation.

  “The whole town is here,” he whispered to himself.

  He backed away from his perch and stretched. It was a nice night for a walk, he decided . . . and an empty town was a quiet place to visit.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Even though they didn’t leave the inn until after one in the morning and stumbling into bed resulted in a rush of limbs and kisses and then finally sleep around two thirty, Zoe’s eyes opened at just before seven.

  Stupid internal clock.

  She tried to roll over but Luke’s knee kept her pinned to the bed.

  She couldn’t feel her toes, which was probably part of the reason she woke. Moving a grown man who wasn’t awake was a little like pushing against a mule who’d found a patch of green grass.

  The push, the nudge, the wiggle . . . none of it worked.

  Changing tactics, she ran a fingernail over his bare hip in hopes of tickling him enough to roll off.