A Wedding in December

by Sarah Morgan

  She felt another twinge of envy as she saw a family of three generations embrace. Envy and a hollow feeling of loneliness. She felt as if everyone in the world was connected apart from her.

  Maybe if Rosie had been here to meet her, she would have felt differently. Instead Rosie had sent the best man, who no doubt was as excited about the plan as she was. Four hours in a car making conversation with a stranger.

  Oh joy.

  Why wasn’t Rosie here? Did she really have a dress fitting or was she mad at Katie for expressing doubts about Dan?

  But if she’d kept quiet and then Dan made Rosie miserable, how would she have felt?

  Maybe this journey was a reprieve. A few hours of rest before she had to try to pull it together in front of her family. Given that Mr. Best Man didn’t know her and was simply doing his duty, he wouldn’t be able to identify that she was more stressed than usual. And who better to question about the groom than the best man? Maybe she could tempt him to spill all the gory details he was thinking of including in his speech.

  But before that, she had to actually find the man.

  How was she supposed to recognize him? Rosie, presumably distracted by wedding arrangements, hadn’t sent a description. All she’d said was that he would be waiting at arrivals.

  There seemed to be a million people waiting at arrivals.

  She glanced around to see if anyone was holding a card with her name on it.

  Maybe she’d end up spending Christmas in the Denver airport. At least it was more cheerful than the emergency department.

  “Katie?” A deep voice came from behind her, and she turned and found herself staring at a broad chest and a pair of powerful shoulders.

  Happy Christmas, Katie.

  She lifted her gaze past the dark shadow of his jaw to a pair of ice-blue eyes. “Hi.” Her voice emerged as a croak and she cleared her throat and tried again. “I mean, hi. Dry throat. I’m probably dehydrated from the flight.”

  “That happens. I’m Jordan. Friend of Dan’s, and best man.” He stuck his hand out and she shook it, her fingers enveloped by strength and warmth.

  “Katie. Big sister and, apparently, maid of honor.” The words sounded ridiculous to her. He was probably trying to picture her at a wedding. “How did you know who I was?”

  “I had a description. Lone female, dark hair, stressed expression.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your sister warned me you’d probably look tired and stressed, so I looked for someone pale who didn’t look pleased to be home for the holidays.”

  “I’m not home for the holidays. I’m in Colorado.” Being met by a stranger, who had blue eyes and the shoulders of a fighter. Best man. He was certainly the best-looking man she’d seen in a while. She could hear Vicky’s voice in her head, urging her not to ignore an opportunity like this one.

  She ignored imaginary Vicky in the same way she ignored real-life Vicky.

  “You don’t seem too pleased about it. Is this all your baggage?” He reached out to take her case and she tightened her grip.

  “Thanks, but I can handle my own suitcase.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Sure, but it’s a walk to my car, and—”

  “It has a handle and wheels, and I have biceps. I’ve got this.” Was he one of those men who thought a woman needed a man to help her through the average day? If so, they were in for a rough week. If he was going to patronize her, she might have to inject him with something.

  He studied her and for an unsettling moment she had a feeling he could see right through her. “Are you always this prickly?”

  “I’m not prickly.” Cactus Katie. “I don’t need you to carry my case, that’s all. And if that threatens your manhood in some way—”

  “My manhood is doing fine, but I appreciate you thinking of it.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of it. Did I say I was thinking about it?”

  Their eyes held for a moment and then he gave a glimmer of a smile and gestured toward the exit. “Let’s go, before you say something that’s going to keep you awake tonight.”

  “Why would something I say keep me awake?”

  “Because you’re the type who would lie there simmering, wishing you’d said something different.”

  “You are so wrong.” He is so right. Why did she feel as if she’d lost a fight, when there hadn’t been a fight? “We should go.”

  “Is it all right if I show you the way? Or would you rather I gave you the address of where I’m parked so that you can find it yourself? I can meet you there if you prefer?”

  She was about to snap a retort, but then she saw the gleam in his eye.

  At least the guy had a sense of humor. “From what Rosie told me, we have at least a four-hour drive ahead of us.”

  “Could be longer because it snowed today.”

  “I’m sorry. That must be inconvenient.” As was the news that she might be trapped with him for more than four hours. Still, at least he wasn’t puny. He looked capable of shoveling snow if the need arose.

  “Around here we like the snow, so we’re willing to take a little inconvenience. Snow means a good ski season, and that’s good for the local economy.”

  She thought about what she’d read. “I thought your economy was kept afloat by up-market retailers and eye-wateringly rich people who spend their billions in your town.”

  “That, too, but most of those eye-wateringly rich people love the outdoors and sports, which gives everyone something in common. Also, those same rich people keep me in business and give me a life I love, so I’m not complaining.”

  He loved his life? Right now she was willing to kill anyone who loved their life.

  He gestured toward a door on the far side of the terminal building. “We’re going that way.”

  She walked briskly, not because she was in a particular hurry but because she didn’t know another way to walk. Time was a precious commodity and she couldn’t afford to waste it.

  They walked through the airport and out into an open-air plaza. “Is that—?” she narrowed her eyes and stopped walking “—an ice rink?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s an ice rink in the airport?”

  “Not technically inside the airport, but yes.” He shrugged. “Welcome to Colorado. Do you skate?”

  “Not intentionally. I’m the one who sticks people back together after they’ve skated. We have a couple of rinks in London that open for Christmas, so that pushes up our workload a bit. I’ve never understood why people think it’s a good idea to have a Christmas drink and then show off their prowess, or lack of it, on the ice.” She watched as a girl in a red coat executed a flashy jump and landed perfectly. A group of people were singing carols. “I’ve never seen an ice rink in an airport. It’s Christmassy.”

  “You’re a Christmas lover? Somehow that surprises me.”

  “I get to sleep in, eat too much, drink too much, and not have to tell yet another family that their child has been stabbed and we weren’t able to save him. What’s not to like?” Damn. Had she really said that? She didn’t even know this guy.

  He was going to think she was pale, tired, stressed and also very possibly insane.

  “Rosie mentioned that you work in the ER.” His tone was gentler than it had been a moment earlier. “That must be stressful.”

  “The—? Oh, yes. We call it the emergency department. And it’s not too bad. You get used to it. After a while it becomes a job. Something you deal with.”

  “Right.”

  “I mean, to some extent you’re a well-trained machine.” She felt herself tense as a little girl wearing a red scarf and a pair of furry antlers skated across the ice to her daddy. Any moment now she was going to fall and bang her head. Technically Katie was off duty, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to walk past an injured person.

&nb
sp; Jordan cleared his throat. “We should probably get going.”

  “In a minute—” The girl in the red scarf was halfway across the ice now, right in the middle of the rink with people swirling round her. She looked so small and vulnerable.

  “Katie—”

  “Why isn’t her dad holding her hand? She could fall and bang her head.”

  “A machine.” He folded his arms and glanced from her to the girl. “Yeah, that’s what I’m seeing. You don’t give a damn, do you? No emotion there at all.”

  She gave him the look she usually reserved for Vicky at her most annoying. “There’s nothing emotional about being an advocate for accident prevention.”

  “Nothing at all. But that kid probably grew up skating. She’ll be fine. Let’s go.” Jordan stepped past her just as the girl reached the other side and was swept into the arms of her proud father.

  Katie relaxed. “Right.” Breathe, breathe.

  “If you’re a machine, then it figures that you can switch off the doctor mode. Program yourself to shut down.”

  “I admit that particular switch might be broken. My systems might have crashed.”

  “You’ll be better after a few days in the mountains. Fresh air, sunshine and snow is the best cure for that.”

  “Let’s hope so.” She had a feeling that it was going to take more than a few days in the mountains to make her feel better.

  His car was warm and comfortable, and Katie relaxed into her seat, relieved to have to think about nothing but being a passenger. She closed her eyes, but unwanted images immediately returned so she opened them again. Part of her had been hoping she’d left it behind, but it had obviously come with her.

  “You said you love your life. What do you do?”

  “I’m an arborist.” He eased into the flow of traffic. “A tree surgeon. You’re a human doctor and I’m a tree doctor, so we have that in common at least.”

  She turned her head. “Trust me, we have nothing in common.” Instantly she felt guilty. What was wrong with her? The guy had met her at the airport for goodness’ sake, and she was behaving as if he’d kidnapped her against her will. It was as if life had drained all her usual self, leaving only a shell. Maybe she was a machine. “You’ve known Dan a long time?”

  “We met in ski school. I was ten and he was eight.”

  “And how old are you now?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Am I allowed to ask your age, too?”

  “I’m one hundred and three.”

  He laughed. “And I’m thirty. Dan is twenty-eight.”

  Six years older than Rosie.

  “And you’re still friends. So I guess that means he’s loyal, at least.” She felt a twinge of anxiety for her sister, who was so gentle and always saw the best in people. “Tell me about him.”

  “What do you want to know? Dan has always loved sports. He’s a great skier, he rowed in college, and now—”

  “Not that. Give me the bad stuff. Drugs? Drinking? Narcissistic tendencies? Arrests? Tell me all the embarrassing moments from your friendship.”

  “The term ‘friendship’ doesn’t usually include bad-mouthing your friend.” There was an edge to his voice and he shifted his grip on the wheel. “Do you ask these questions of all the men you date?”

  “No. But I ask them of the men my sister dates, because she never sees a dark side to anyone.”

  “That fits with what I know of her. She’s very open. Trusting. Good for Dan.”

  What Katie wanted to know was whether Dan was good for Rosie. “So what are you going to say in your speech?”

  “Speech?”

  “You’re best man. You give a speech, where no doubt you wheel out stories about wild weekends with prostitutes. A gambling habit? Cocaine? The day you left him chained naked to the Empire State Building?”

  Jordan’s gaze slid briefly to hers. “If that’s an example of a best man’s speech, you must have been to some interesting weddings.” He slowed as they hit traffic. “When you go on a date, do you send them a questionnaire first?”

  “I don’t date.”

  “If those are the questions you ask, I’m not surprised.”

  “I don’t date because I don’t have time, not because I don’t get offers.”

  “Ah, so the machine has feelings.” A smile played around his mouth and she glared at him.

  “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about Dan.”

  “No, you were interrogating me about Dan. Why haven’t you asked your sister these things?”

  “My sister thinks she’s in love. She’s incapable of thinking objectively.”

  “You don’t think she can make her own decisions?”

  Katie stared ahead of her. How much should she say? “She’s my sister. I love her. I’m protective.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You have a touch of the Rottweiler about you, that’s all. Does your sister need protecting?”

  “Sometimes.” Katie frowned. “A Rottweiler? You’re not only saying I’m a dog, you’re saying I’m a savage dog.”

  “I’m comparing personality traits. It’s something I do when I meet someone. Helps me figure out who they are. And Rottweilers aren’t savage. They’re intelligent working dogs.”

  An intelligent working dog. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad description. “So if I’m a Rottweiler, what’s my sister?”

  He thought for a moment. “Possibly a cocker spaniel.”

  Katie typed it into her phone and scrolled through the results. “Loyal, gentle and affectionate.” She pulled a face. “Not bad, in fact. Seems as if you know my sister.”

  “Or she could be a Labrador. Kind. Makes a good assistance dog.”

  Katie thought about the times Rosie had visited the elderly lady who lived next to them when they were growing up. Whatever her mother had been cooking, Rosie had taken one of whatever was cooling on the kitchen table to Enid. Cupcakes. A slice of warm apple pie. It had been Rosie who had insisted Enid join them for Christmas lunch because no one should be on their own on Christmas Day. Rosie, who couldn’t bear to see anyone hurt and never wanted to do the hurting, which was one of the reasons she was slow to ditch bad boyfriends. And she’d had a few.

  “She could be a Labrador.”

  “You have a dog?”

  “My lifestyle isn’t conducive to pet ownership.”

  “Nothing removes stress lines better than a dog. Maybe you should rethink your lifestyle.”

  Lately, she’d done nothing else. “I’ve been a doctor for a decade. Longer if you count medical school.”

  “And?”

  “And you don’t rethink something you’ve been doing for that long.” She stared out of the window, wondering if she’d even be able to care for a dog. A dog would need regular meals, and pizza probably didn’t count. And what if her sister visited? “The mountains are pretty. And the forest. Is that where you work?”

  “I work wherever I’m needed.”

  “But half the trees are covered in snow. Are you quiet this time of year?”

  He smiled. “Busy. People want Christmas trees. And they want lights strung around their houses.”

  “You do that? I get delivering a Christmas tree, but lights?”

  “I’m used to heights and climbing up things with awkward angles.”

  “I would never have thought of employing someone to put up Christmas lights.”

  “You don’t decorate? You don’t like Christmas?”

  “I don’t not like it, but I don’t go over the top. There’s something about Christmas that makes people a little silly—wearing festive sweaters you wouldn’t be seen dead in the rest of the year, kisses under the mistletoe you always live to regret.”

  “You regret the kisses you’ve
had under the mistletoe?”

  She’d fallen right into that one. “I don’t think decisions as important as who you’re going to have sex with should be decided by a plant, that’s all. And a poisonous plant at that.”

  “Next you’ll be telling me you don’t believe in Santa. I’m going to have to ask you to keep that thought to yourself. I can’t handle it.”

  “Did you know that people can actually catch infections from Santa outfits?”

  “You are full of snippets of information I never wanted to know.”

  “You’re welcome.” She had a feeling he was laughing, and she was so tired she smiled, too. “Look, I don’t mean to interrogate you, but I love Rosie. I’ve never met Dan. I want her to be happy, that’s all.”

  “And that’s your responsibility?”

  She stretched out her legs. She could tell him about Rosie’s unsuitable boyfriends, and maybe he’d understand. But then she’d feel disloyal to her sister. And Jordan was on team Dan, not team Rosie. “She has always been my responsibility.”

  “Younger sister? Big age difference?”

  “I was joking when I said I was a hundred and three.”

  He laughed. “I’m rethinking Rottweiler. You’re more of a terrier. Spirited and loves an argument.”

  “What makes you think I love an argument?”

  “Maybe because you keep starting one.”

  “Which is possibly because you’re annoying. What breed would you be, then?”

  He thought about it. “I’m an energetic, outdoor type. Reliable, protective of those I love same as you are, easygoing, unless someone crosses a line.”

  She wondered where that line was.

  Everyone had limits, didn’t they? She’d recently discovered hers. “So you’re a Labrador, too.”

  He pulled a face. “I’m not that easygoing. Maybe more German shepherd.”

  The road curved through a narrow valley. Huge walls of granite and limestone rose steeply, silver gray and stark, mostly too steep to hold the snow. Patches of white clung to the less vertiginous sections, and coated the trees.

  “This is an impressive place.”

  “Welcome to Glenwood Canyon.”