by Emily March
Maisy interrupted the moment by asking, “So is Jackson singing tonight too, Caroline?”
“He’s doing one set with Coco, but that’s all. He’s very excited about the opening band, though. They are some young guys out of Abilene who played a Sunday afternoon at the Last Chance not long ago. Jackson said their songwriter has real talent.”
“He should know,” Ben said, earning smiles from all the women.
Jeremy didn’t respond, and when Gillian glanced at him, he seemed distracted. She followed the path of his gaze and couldn’t hold back a groan. “Oh, no. I know tonight’s concert is the hottest ticket in Texas so I shouldn’t be surprised to see those two, but if either one of them heads this way, I expect somebody to run interference.”
Maisy asked, “Who? What?”
“Lindsay Grant and Erica Chadwick.”
“Ah.” As Gillian stabbed a fork full of the chocolate cake they’d all been sharing, Maisy explained, “They’re old college frenemies of Gillian’s.”
Gillian chastised Maisy with a look, but she couldn’t deny it. Maisy took note of Jeremy’s expression and asked, “Have you met them, Jeremy?”
He wiped his mouth with his napkin before responding with a hard note in his voice. “I’ve heard plenty about them.”
Gillian addressed the curious looks at the table by expanding on Maisy’s explanation. “Lindsay is a repeat customer of Bliss. She’s called three times since Christmas trying to convince me to coordinate her April wedding. Erica has called twice.”
“Why is Erica calling you?” Jeremy asked.
Gillian shrugged. “Doing her bridesmaid duty, I imagine.”
“I thought you sold wedding dresses,” Tucker said. “You coordinate weddings too?”
“Not yet, but I will soon. Jeremy and I are starting a new event planning business.”
“Oh, really?” Tucker said. “A new business, hmm? From what I understand, there’s a lot of that going around in Redemption. Congratulations.”
“It’s Gillian’s baby,” Jeremy snapped. “I have my hands full at the bank.”
Gillian stiffened at the comment. Deliberately, she returned her fork to her plate and folded her hands in her lap. The jitters inside her intensified to big, black doubts she could no longer deny. It was a very good thing their premarital counseling at church began next week. She and Jeremy needed another heart-to-heart, honest talk.
“The Texas Hill Country has become a popular place to hold destination weddings, hasn’t it?” Ben asked.
Jackson nodded. “They’re becoming a big part of our business at the inn, that’s for sure.”
Tucker took a bite of dessert and casually observed, “So, to be an event planner, I guess you must be organized. And of course—” He paused, and a teasing glint entered his caramel-colored eyes as he licked the last bit of chocolate off the fork and then added, “—always prepared.”
Very funny, Gillian told him with her eyes.
He ever so subtly winked at her.
Unaware of the underplay, Maisy said, “You should see her notebook for her wedding. Gillian has prepared for every possibility and planned accordingly.”
“There’s no room for errors in weddings,” Caroline observed.
“Tell me about it,” Ben said, lamenting. “It’s called divorce.”
“Speaking of divorce,” Maisy said, a note of warning in her voice. “Bridezilla incoming. I’d guess you have ten seconds to make an escape.”
“Oh, joy.”
Jeremy took Gillian’s hand and shot to his feet, pulling her up with him. “We won’t allow them to ruin what’s been a nice evening up until now. Let’s go take a walk.”
Gillian didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her bag and hurried alongside Jeremy toward the exit. But as they stepped out into the chilly night air and moved far enough away that they were safe from interruptions, she pulled her hand free from his and halted. “Why did you say that about Blissful Events being my baby? We’re going to be equal partners. That’s why we decided to wait until after our wedding to file the paperwork.”
“You decided that. I didn’t.”
With a quick intake of breath, Gillian took a physical step back from her fiancé. “What is wrong with you, Jeremy? You’ve been cranky for weeks now.”
Jeremy closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “Everything will be fine. It’s prewedding jitters, that’s all. I’m sorry.”
“I think it’s more than just jitters.” For both of us.
He dismissed the comment with a shake of his head, then glanced back toward the door of the saloon. “Look, I’m just in a terrible mood. I don’t like that those two women have been pestering you. I’ll go talk to them. Like you said at dinner, we are partners. This is something I can do.”
“Forget them. It’s New Year’s Eve. Let’s not bring business into our holiday celebration any further. Let’s dance and enjoy ourselves. This is a night to celebrate new beginnings.”
“Which is why we shouldn’t drag old baggage into the New Year,” he grumbled. “Go on into the hall. I’ll catch up with you in a little while after I’ve shaken off this … funk.”
He turned and left her in the middle of the barren rose garden. In that moment, a gust of cold wind sent brittle leaves skittering across the path, and Gillian felt a chill through to her marrow.
* * *
Tucker was having an excellent time at his first New Year’s Eve party as a single, civilian man. First and foremost, he was so damned happy for Jackson. He’d made his dream happen. The Last Chance Hall was packed to the rafters, and music and laughter filled the air. By all appearances, he’d successfully launched those kids from Abilene tonight, which was precisely the sort of thing he wanted to do when he envisioned reopening the hall.
The man himself had just finished a set to wild applause, and now he was busy scootin’ up the sawdust with his ladylove. Jackson had been through more than his share of dark days in the past few years, but as the New Year began, the sun definitely was shining in his sky.
The example Jackson set stirred Tucker’s reenergized competitive spirit and gave him hope for some sunshine for himself. His and Jackson’s skies were different, to be sure. Tucker hadn’t lived with gray, stormy days for years on end like his cousin had during his lousy marriage. But sometimes, all it took was one big old dark thunderstorm to throw off a tornado and blow a path of destruction. For the past few months, Tucker had been in after-the-F-5 cleanup mode. Now that he’d cleared away the brush and rubble, Tucker was ready to shift into the rebuilding phase.
A new place, new job, new life. And, with any luck, new people.
He wanted a little Haley of his own to take fishing and hiking and camping beneath the star-filled Texas sky.
Scanning the hall and sipping a longneck, Tucker noticed Gillian twirling in the arms of a man who likely was family, based on the resemblance the two shared. Regret filled him. Damn, but that woman did it for him. Witty, intelligent, loyal, and loving. Sexy as sin. Too bad the tornado hadn’t swept through his life sooner and dropped him into Gillian’s path. He’d have done everything in his power to beat Jeremy to the punch and win the beauty’s heart.
Jackson sidled up beside Tucker, interrupting his musings. “How come you’re not out there dancing, Fred?”
“Fred Astaire?”
“You’re as smooth on the dance floor as you are on the golf course.”
“True. But I can play golf alone.”
“Want me to request a line dance?”
Tucker gave his cousin a chiding look. It was an old argument of theirs. Tucker was old-fashioned when it came to dancing. In his opinion, dancing needed a partner, a man needed a woman to hold and swirl and twirl. “Thanks, but no. I’m content hanging on the corral fence for now.”
Jackson narrowed his eyes and gave Tucker a speculative look. “Are we talking about more than two-steppin’ here?”
“Yes. Yes, I think we are. I think I’m close to being ready, though.�
� Without conscious thought, Tucker searched the crowd circling the dance floor for Gillian. He spotted her just as the song ended and applause broke out. As her dance partner led her toward the table where Maisy and her date sat, Tucker asked his cousin, “Did you ever use one of those online dating services?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“I guess not, you being a celebrity and all. It’s just that, well, I’m not exactly sure how one goes about dating while living in a small town. There is no anonymity. Everybody knows everybody else’s business.”
“Life in a Hill Country fishbowl.” Jackson shrugged. “It is what it is.”
“A small fishbowl at that.”
“Still, you are Captain Stealth, aren’t you? In and out of dangerous places all over the world without getting caught? I think you could date a Redemption girl on the sly just fine.”
“You do have a point.”
Jackson waved to get a server’s attention, motioned to Tucker’s beer, then held up two fingers. He waited until the drinks had been delivered to ask, “What about Maisy? She’s single and unattached, unless this date with Ben starts something.”
Tucker scowled at his cousin. “Doesn’t she date Boone?”
“No. They’ve never gone beyond flirting.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Well, pretty sure. I think they sparked a bit, but nothing caught fire.”
Tucker shook his head. “I’m not going there. Remember Lizzie Hart?”
“Lizzie who? Oh, wait. The girl at summer camp after our sophomore year. Y’all had a fistfight over her, didn’t you?”
“More than one. Swore then that I’d never fish from the same pond as Boone.”
“Doesn’t seem right considering that you’re living in this pond, and he’s a thousand miles away. Why don’t you ask him?”
“I could, but…” Tucker shrugged. “I like Maisy a lot, but I have the same sort of sisterly vibe going on with her as I do with Caroline.”
“Gotcha.” Jackson took a pull on his beer. “I do have one suggestion, but it’s a serious step. Once you take it, there’s no turning back.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It is. Show up at the Wednesday night book club. That will get the word out to every woman in town that you’re available.”
“Wednesday night book club, hmm?”
“They’re reading Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series beginning in January. You do a great Scottish brogue. If you can dust off that charm you used to wield so spectacularly, you won’t have to lift a finger to get dates. They’ll come to you.”
One of the dance hall’s employees interrupted the conversation with news that Jackson was needed backstage. Tucker finished off his beer and decided he was in the mood to do a little dancing too. He began by asking Caroline to two-step, then continued with a waltz with Maisy. He spied Gillian in the arms of a guy he recognized from the hardware store in town and debated whether or not he should ask her to dance.
He wanted to hold her in his arms more than he should. He wanted to talk to her and spend time with her and, yeah, get naked with her.
He needed to get over that. Not only was she taken with a capital T, Gillian was a friend of Caroline’s, and Caroline was about to be family. He wouldn’t be able to avoid her, so he needed to crush these inconvenient feelings of his.
Self-analysis wasn’t ordinarily his bailiwick, but he wanted to believe that he wouldn’t lust after a married woman. He never had before, so chances were good that second ring on her finger would settle his hormones. Right?
Except he’d never lusted after an engaged woman before either.
Yeah, he was a little worried.
His gaze found her in the crowd. Being New Year’s Eve, lots of folks had dressed up a notch. Gillian wore understated clothes compared to many. Nevertheless, she glittered. She sparkled. She made the Last Chance Hall come alive.
What would one dance hurt? It wouldn’t make him want her more than he already did, would it?
He was saved from making the decision when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Angelica Blessing beamed up at him with a wicked twinkle in her eyes. Her long, fire-engine-red hair swung loose beneath a silver felt hat with a sequined hatband. She wore dangling earrings—one shaped like an angel’s wing, the other like a devil’s pitchfork—and a blousy silver shirt tucked into jeans the same color as her hair. Her red leather boots had a saucy silver fringe. “Hey, cowboy. Want to dance?”
“With you? Always and anytime.”
“In that case…” She waved toward the stage and caught the lead singer’s notice. A moment later, he announced a step back into classic country, and the first strains of the Western Swing waltz made famous by Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys back in the 1940s, “San Antonio Rose,” drifted through the hall.
“I haven’t heard this in years,” Tucker told Angelica as he led her onto the floor.
“It’s one of my favorites,” she replied. “Pick up the pace, McBride. I may be mature, but I can dance.”
She wasn’t lying. Tucker dusted off his old swing moves, and they twirled and spun and even dipped their way around the dance floor. When the song ended, Tucker was breathing hard and laughing aloud. Angelica simply made him feel good.
She winked up at him and said, “Good job, farmer.”
“Farmer? I thought I was a cowboy?”
“Remember when I introduced myself to you? I told you I was a plain speaker and that you had a tough row ahead of you to hoe.”
Yes, now that she mentioned it, he did recall. It had been a weird moment because she’d looked at him with a strange light in her eyes and some of what she’d said had made no sense. “You said I might break the blade a time or two.”
“I did. It’s a farmer’s reality. However, the New Year is upon us, and harvest blessings are right around the corner.” Angelica reached up and touched his cheek. “Just be prepared and remember your Aristotle: ‘Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet,’ and ‘Friendship is a slow ripening fruit.’”
“All right.” Smiling down at her, Tucker remembered a phrase his mother used to use: dottie old dear.
“Happy New Year, Tucker McBride. Thanks for the dance.”
The band played the first few chords of “Copperhead Road.” Angelica said, “My favorite line dance! Gotta go.”
Tucker watched her take center-front stage and slowly shook his head. He loved her, but sometimes Angelica Blessing was one strange bird.
Someone tapped him on his left shoulder. Gillian said, “Well, now. Don’t you know how to trip the lights fantastic?”
“It was all Angelica. She knows how to make a dance partner look good.” Unable to stop himself, he gave her a quick once-over. Pretty as a Parker County peach. “How come you’re not out there on the line?”
She pursed her lips into a pout and shrugged. “I’m not a fan. It makes me feel like I’m in an exercise class, and I can’t stand exercise class.”
“A woman after my own heart,” he observed. Then, because she stood beside him and her fiancé wasn’t around, and he’d seen her dancing with over a half a dozen other men this evening, he surrendered to temptation. “May I have the next dance?”
“I’d like that.”
When the line dance ended, Tucker took her hand and led her onto the floor. The lead singer in the band announced the next dance as the last of the evening before the start of Coco’s show. Gillian’s smile faltered just a bit when the familiar chords of Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight” began.
It was slow. It was romantic. It was the type of song that made it almost impossible not to hold the woman in his arms too close. Didn’t help that the exotic, woods-and-spices perfume she wore made him want to pull her closer than appropriate for a friendly dance. She moved like a dream, and with those mile-long legs of hers, she fit him perfectly.
If Tucker were Gillian’s fiancé, he’d damned sure not let some other guy dance this song with her. It wouldn’t matte
r if she was with the mayor or a minister or a milkman, Tucker would cut in. Forcefully.
Jeremy was nowhere to be found.
So, Tucker closed his eyes, pulled her a little closer, and indulged himself. Sexy, soft, and sweet, she was heaven in his arms. She was glorious.
The band played the full version, and at some point, Coco joined them in the vocals. It was eight minutes of bliss. Impure bliss. Tucker grew as hard as a bois d’arc fence post, and he valiantly resisted the urge to press himself against her.
For a moment when the final notes of the music faded away, stillness came over the crowd. Tucker lifted his head. The temptation to kiss her was almost overwhelming, but it waned when he stared down into Gillian’s luminous eyes. “What’s this?” He thumbed a tear from her cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. What’s the matter?”
“I’m sorry. That song is just so beautiful and, well…” The crowd broke out in applause, and she stepped away and looked around. “Where is he? I haven’t seen Jeremy since our walk in the garden.”
Hell if I know. Your fiancé should have been here. He should be here now ripping you out of my arms.
On stage, Coco said, “Happy New Year, y’all! I want to thank the band for allowing me to jump in on that last song. It’s one of my favorites.”
The applause turned to cheers. Ever the performer, Coco bowed and blew kisses and accepted accolades for almost a full minute. Then she said, “Are y’all ready to get this party started?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” chanted the crowd.
“That’s good because it’s about that time, I believe. Official timekeeper? Where are we?”
“Thirty-eight seconds until midnight,” Jackson called.
“Woo-hoo!” Coco waved her arm like a cowboy looping a lariat. “Let’s do this thing! Lights! Drum roll.”
Gillian was now glancing around the dance hall anxiously. “It’s so crowded in here. Do you see Jeremy anywhere, Tucker?”
“No.”
Spotlights illuminated the mirrored seventies-style disco ball that Jackson had rigged at the center of the stage for the purpose. Allowed to stay awake and participate in the holiday, Haley manned the rope with her father’s help. The crowd laughed and cheered as they began to slowly lower the sparkling mirrored ball. Gillian paid no attention to the stage. Instead, she threaded her way through the crowd toward a nearby table and empty chair. Tucker followed her. When it became clear she intended to stand on the chair, he muttered a curse and grabbed the chair’s back to hold it steady.
