“Sounds like a southern gentleman to me,” Erin declares.
“Oh, does this mean he can cook?” Angie asks.
“Tyler can cook, he’s made a few dishes for me and Reed,” Sage answers. “But he lets his head chef handle most of the cooking at the restaurant.”
My fingernails curl into my palms and irrational jealously gnaws on my nerves. Angie lives in Indiana a few miles north of Evansville and Erin lives in Louisville. Either woman having a relationship of any kind with Tyler is more than likely out of the question.
Jeez. I might as well pee on Tyler and mark him as mine.
The Tyler talk quickly switches to the party after the vows. Sage’s gaze electrifies as she tells us all about the food and live music. The menu sounds incredible. She informs us that the cocktail reception will have a full bar including a wine truck.
When my hair and makeup is finished, I slip into my dress—a floor-sweeping, pale pink gown with thin straps and a v-neckline. Sage’s white lace dress is a glamorous A-line silhouette with an open back and short sleeves. It accentuates her figure perfectly.
The time passes quickly and before I know it, Sage is walking down the aisle to Elton John’s “Your Song.”
Romantic and sugary-sweet promises of love and commitment are delivered, but none made to obey. Forty minutes later, they’re married.
After a sweet first kiss, Sage and Reed are down the aisle. Before I can formulate a thought, Angie shoves me into Tyler. I nearly trip over my own two feet.
“Sorry,” she mouths
“Well, they did it,” Tyler says.
“They did.”
“You look beautiful, by the way.”
I feel the blush creep up my neck. “Thank you.”
He looks good too. The black tuxedo he’s wearing fits him like a glove. An expertly tailored three-piece with a crisp white shirt, classic bowtie and the pale pink pocket square is a lovely touch.
Next thing I know the two of us are situated outside near the vino mobile. Tyler hands me a glass of white wine. When a crowd forms around us, we pick up our drinks and stride back toward the barn.
“Come on, you two,” Angie hollers, motioning for us to join the rest of the bridal party. “Pictures.”
“Ah yes, a time-honored ritual.” Tyler raises the glass to his lips.
I look at Angie. “I need to check my hair and makeup. I’m sweating like a pig out here.”
“I’ll go with you,” Tyler says. “I could use a blast of recycled air.”
“I’m sure that suit feels like it weighs a hundred pounds out here.”
He opens the door and I lead us through the stables to the bridal room. “How’d things go with your boss?”
“Good actually. She wasn’t thrilled about me spending the next few weeks here in what she calls ‘the middle of nowhere.’ I assured her that we had Wi-Fi and working phones.”
“All the conveniences of modern technology in bum fuck anywhere, USA.” He starts to walk backward in front of me spreading his arms wide.
Damn. This guy has quite the wingspan. And suddenly I can’t stop thinking about the way his hands felt on me earlier.
I open the door to the bridal room and place my bouquet on the makeup bar. I pull my cosmetics bag out of my Loeffler Randall tote as I lean onto the countertop in front of the mirror.
“Ugh, I am not getting married in the heat of summer,” I say, dabbing at my forehead with a makeup blotter. “They could have picked a cooler month.”
Tyler takes a seat on the sofa. “Don’t most weddings take place in the summer?”
I shrug and continue touching up my makeup. “Not this girl. If Scott had proposed, I would have pushed for a fall wedding. October would be perfect.”
“I wish I’d known you in March so I could have given you a heads up that Scott called me.”
I blink at him in the mirror. “What did you say about March?”
His lips form a grim line and his eyes close. “Shit.”
“Are you saying that he’d been planning to dump me since March?”
Tyler stands and quickly joins me at the makeup bar. “No, well, I don’t know.”
“This is unbelievable.” My voice shakes with anger.
“Okay, take a deep breath,” Tyler instructs placing his hands on my shoulders.
“If this is the part where you tell me to calm down . . .” I warn.
He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “No, nope. I learned a long time ago never tell a woman to calm down. I just don’t want you passing out in this heat.” Tyler drags one of the stools out for me. “Take a seat.”
“Scott had been planning to dump me since March? Okay, you have to tell me everything.”
He clears his throat. “Well, he called me up and said he needed the restaurant—something life changing.”
My brows pinch together. “This makes zero sense.”
“For what it’s worth. I don’t think he was planning a breakup.”
“Well, that doesn’t exactly make me feel better.”
“No, I guess that it won’t. But it just goes to show you what an asshat Scott is, and I hate saying that about the guy because I know that he’s got a good heart—mostly.”
A heavy breath leaves my lungs. “Hmm.”
“Do you want me to talk to him for you?”
I stand and turn back to the mirror. “No, no way. The news just surprised me—that’s all.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “If Scott had proposed, would you have said yes?”
I swallow hard as my eyes meet his in the mirror. “Probably, and then I would have realized—more than likely when it was too late—what a colossal mistake I’d made. It would have ended terribly and . . . you probably think I sound like I’m out of my head.”
“Nah,” he says, resting his arm on top of the vanity. “But it does sound like you might have been coasting in your relationship with Scott. The two of you were just drifting along with no real end goal.”
“Well, I guess the end goal would have been marriage.”
“Right, but neither one of you would’ve been happy. You said it yourself. And Scott never told me about you, don’t you think that’s odd?”
My finger scratches along my eyebrow. “Yeah, it’s odd. But due to our professional relationship we couldn’t exactly go telling everyone and anyone that we were together.”
The more I think about it, I should’ve seen the massive problems in my relationship with Scott. He never wanted to try anything new . . . not when it came to food or even experiences. I’ve never been a woman who wanted a fixer-upper man. I don’t have time for that, but I at least tried all the things he suggested—bass fishing, racing four-wheelers in the mud. I even sampled scotch eggs once. For the record, those eggs are completely gross.
What have I been doing with the last months of my life? Wasting time, apparently.
“So,” Tyler interjects, pulling me from my thoughts. “How about we get outta here and take those pictures?”
“Sure thing.” I shove my makeup bag back into my tote. “They’re all probably wondering where we’ve run off to.”
Tyler chuckles as I breeze past him toward the door.
“Oh, don’t forget this.” He hands me my bouquet. My fingertips brush against his knuckles, I feel his warmth spreading through me. With his gaze unwavering, it seems almost impossible to look away from him. The air crackles between us.
Shaking off whatever that was, I refocus and exit the room. Time to resume my bridesmaid duties.
It may be a long few weeks here.
My stomach growls. I’ve eaten my weight in cheese cubes and veggies. The din of the crowd hushes for a moment and I catch the sound of crickets chirping as dusk falls over the horizon. My family’s home lights up the skyline. Letting out a deep breath, I wonder where my parents are.
“Haven,” my mother’s voice rings in my ears.
Question answered. Eerie.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, wr
apping my arms around her shoulders.
“Let me look at you.” She pulls out of my embrace and lifts my arms away from my sides to take in my figure. Rooted to my spot I wait for her to say that I’m much too thin.
“You look beautiful, Haven. Pink is definitely your color.”
What? The imaginary record in my head scratches. My brows crinkle as I stare at my mom.
“I bet the wedding was lovely,” she remarks as my father appears at her side. He passes her a wine glass and then directs his gaze to me.
“Hello, Haven,” he greets me with a hug.
“Hi, Dad. It’s nice to see you.”
“We’re having a family brunch tomorrow, Haven. Why don’t you join us?”
“And don’t say that you have to catch a flight because you can book a later one and I’ll pay for it,” my dad adds.
“Will Brant and Wes be there?”
“No, Brant is in Europe—London or Amsterdam—working. Last time I heard from Wes, he was working on a cattle ranch outside Dallas,” Mom informs.
“So, say yes,” Dad prompts. “We haven’t seen you since we visited you in Los Angeles during Thanksgiving, we should catch up.”
“Sure,” I agree, plastering a smile on my face. “I’ll be there.”
Mom squeezes my arm. “It’ll be painless, I promise. Ten-thirty sharp.”
She and my father stride toward the barn. There, in the light from the barn’s enormous chandelier, stands Tyler. He’s ditched his jacket and his bowtie hangs undone around his neck. My stomach flips and instead of landing it keeps falling. It’s worth repeating, Tyler is handsome.
As if he knows that I’m staring at him, Tyler looks up. He flashes me that gleaming smile of his.
I smile back, feeling my face growing hot.
A sense of longing washes over me, which is bizarre. It’s a longing I don’t want to feel, but my traitorous body puts it front and center. Awareness pools between my legs.
I need to put Scott behind me. It’s over. There’s nothing I can . . . there’s nothing I want to do about the dead relationship. The only thing to do is move. Move forward. And if forward is in Tyler’s direction, I’ll at least enjoy my time here and possibly have a little fun with him. Screw off-limits.
The night ends with a hell of a fireworks display. The bridal party helps load up the wedding gifts and then we say our goodbyes to the newlyweds.
“Thanks for everything,” Sage says, hugging me. “I’ll see you in a month.”
“Don’t worry about a thing and more importantly have fun,” I assure.
Tyler slaps his hand to Reed’s shoulder. “Enjoy, man, don’t worry about a thing.”
“Thanks, buddy.” They shake hands, followed by the bro hug thing. Reed climbs into the backseat of the car with his new wife. It really is the perfect night.
“Do you need a ride back to Sage’s place?” Tyler asks.
“Angie’s giving me a ride,” I answer, scooping up my things. “Thanks, though.”
“Sure thing. You okay by yourself at Sage’s?”
“Yeah, I think so. My parents invited me for brunch tomorrow at the house.”
“Ah, sounds like fun.” He winks, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Maybe.” I lift a shoulder. “But I’ll definitely see you tomorrow evening.”
“Looking forward to it.” His steady gaze holds mine.
“Me too.”
“Oh, hand me your phone,” he says.
I place my phone in his palm and he starts tapping away. “Giving me your number, huh?”
He glances up and smiles then hands me back my phone. “Yeah, in case you need anything while you’re here.”
Right. He’s just being friendly. Neighborly.
“Night,” he says, closing the space between us. And for a moment I wonder if he’s going to kiss me.
“You ready, Haven?” Angie asks stepping beside me.
Tyler steps back.
“Yep.”
I watch as he strides toward his truck, waving to a few lingering guests. Angie turns on her heel and walks in the opposite direction of Tyler.
“Thanks again,” I say, my steps fall in sync with hers.
Angie talks mostly about her long drive home tomorrow while I peer out the side window. At least she’s going home. I, on the other hand, will be earning multiple brownie points by staying for the next few weeks.
Except for the old movie theater, Mayfield’s pretty quiet tonight. There’s a midnight showing of Pretty in Pink. I see it’s an 80s rewind theme week.
The soda shop has a few cars in the parking lot. The high-schoolers enjoying a late-night snack before they head home. I smile at the thought and lean my head against the passenger seat.
Exhaustion takes hold of me, I barely register Angie pulling up to Sage’s place. After I thank her and say goodbye, I drag my heavy body up the steps to the sunroom and unlock the door.
Before I cozy up in bed, I check on Oliver. “Your mama will be home in a month or so,” I say, scratching his head. “It’s just you and me, buddy.”
And maybe, Tyler.
Tyler
I pull up a barstool at the restaurant and begin flipping through the latest news on Variety and The Hollywood Reporter on my iPad. Taking an interest in Haven’s world will provide some nice dinner conversation. Not that I need the help when it comes to chatting with Haven.
She was so goddamn gorgeous last night. It took everything in me to keep from reaching for her and asking her to dance with me. I wanted to hold her in my arms. I also wanted to kiss her, which was a bad idea for many reasons. Mainly, because she’s still reeling from her breakup with Scott. And I need to find out how serious he’d been about Haven.
What if he plans on going out on tour and screwing a bunch of chicks and then going back to Haven?
My fingers rub at my forehead. She deserves better treatment than that. But this is all speculation. I have no idea what’s going on with Scott these days.
The restaurant begins to fill up with people—hungry people. I step behind the bar and refill my coffee mug. A lot of ideas rattle around in my brain about what to make for Haven tonight.
I notice my produce guy just dropped off a bunch of cherry tomatoes and zucchini. I can make a pasta dish—linguine. Picking up a pen I jot down a few details for the menu. Blueberry and goat cheese bruschetta with a balsamic glaze. For dessert, espresso chocolate cheesecake.
With tonight’s menu out of the way, I return my attention to the Hollywood industry news in front of me.
A strong hand taps me on the back and I turn to see Scott standing behind me.
“Hey, man, what are you doing here?”
Scott hooks his thumb over his shoulder. “Told the crew we needed to stop at the best restaurant in the state for some grub.”
“Well, you’ve definitely come to the right place.” I stand. “You want a table in the private dining room?”
“Nah, we’ll eat out here.” Scott walks me over to the large group of people that he brought with him. He drapes his arm around a tall woman with fiery red hair. “Guys, this is Tyler, and this is his place—best food you’ll ever have in your life.”
Nodding, I gather up a few menus and instruct Chelsey, our hostess, to take them to the eight-top in the back corner.
Scott follows me over to the bar. “Listen, uh,” he starts. “My accountant noticed a very large transaction on my credit card here, Thursday night.”
My finger traces along the bar. “Yeah, the woman, Haven, that you dumped and walked out on. Apparently, you told her she could order anything she wanted.” My hand grips his shoulder. “Thanks to your generosity, a local women’s shelter is getting soup and pizza tonight.”
Scott shifts uneasy and the corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “Well, I am known for my kind heart.”
I laugh. “The shelter appreciates the food.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “How’s Haven doing?”
“
I’m surprised that you care,” I answer truthfully. “Given the way you left things with her.”
Scott stares at me, crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s pretty broken up about the two of us, huh? I guess I can call her and offer her a little bit of hope. Might be fun to string her along.”
Is he actually saying these words? What the hell is happening?
“Scott, do you hear yourself? You sound like a royal asshole.”
He stands there with his eyes focused on the floor mulling over my words. Then he looks up at me with a straight face. “You got some balls talking to me that way. What do you care about how I treat her or any of the women I’m screwing, for that matter?”
Stepping up to him, I run my hand over my face. “I care about you. You sound like a first-class jerk and what you did to Haven wasn’t fucking cool. I’ve known you for a long time and I’ve never known you to treat people this way.”
He shrugs. “Okay, okay. Enough with the lecture. I guess I’m just stressed about the tour. I’ll call Haven and apologize to her.”
“Good to hear.”
“Were you gonna propose to her?”
He takes a deep breath and looks around the restaurant. “When I called you, I was thinking about it, yeah. But then I met Callie.” He juts his chin toward the red head.
“Are you fucking her?”
He nods. “But we ain’t exclusive. I’m going on tour, man—groupies.” He waggles his brows. “Gotta sow my wild oats.”
Apparently, Scott isn’t serious about Haven. But I think I could be. I want to take my shot.
“You’re thirty-two, Scott. Not twenty-two. Don’t you think those days are over?”
“You interested in Haven, man?” he asks, cocking a brow. “Never knew you to be a guy who picks up my sloppy seconds.”
I can’t decide if I want to take him out back and beat the shit out of him or give him a piece of my mind. I don’t get a chance for either because Callie slides up to him and interrupts. “Come on, Scotty, we’re starving and we need to get on the road soon.”
Inwardly I roll my eyes. No idea why. I’m sure this chick’s nice enough.
Beautiful March Page 8
