Falling for the Best Man

by Amanda Ashby

  Emmy had contemplated whether she needed to follow Christopher around the eighteen holes then decided he’d be safe enough surrounded by Lewis and the other groomsmen. Rachel’s steady gaze told Emmy she wasn’t fooling anyone.

  She let out a sigh. “Okay, fine. So maybe I stole him a little bit. But you know how important this wedding is. If anything goes wrong…”

  “Nothing’s going to go wrong. You’ve worked your butt off to make Sunday perfect,” Rachel said fiercely. Then she softened to add, “But don’t you think that you’re playing with fire? What if something happens between you?”

  “It won’t,” Emmy said, wishing she’d never told Rachel the details of her one and only trip to New York. In her defense, she didn’t expected see Christopher again. Not considering his parting text message to her.

  If you go home, I won’t follow you.

  “Why not? You scrub up pretty well when you remember to brush your hair, and he…well, he’s not hard to look at.” Rachel raised her sunglasses and peered over to where Christopher was still talking to Lewis.

  “Rachel Cullen, do I need to remind you that you’re a happily married woman?” Emmy asked as she followed Rachel’s gaze. It took all of her willpower not to let out a soft sigh. Yesterday, despite a thirty-hour flight, Christopher had managed to take her breath away. Today he was heart-attack-inducing, and if he could get even the forty-four-year old Rachel hot under the collar, he could work his magic on anyone. Her mood plummeted.

  “I might be married, but I’m not blind,” said Rachel. “That man’s damn pretty, so how can you be certain you won’t get involved with him again?”

  Because I’m not a masochist, and he only dates well-traveled girls who speak French and leave the country at the drop of the hat.

  “He’s made his feelings abundantly clear. I was the girl too scared to leave the farm.” Emmy tried to ignore the small, stabbing pain in her chest.

  “You were the girl who came home to care for her beloved great aunt,” Rachel corrected, and while Emmy nodded, she wasn’t so sure. Because even if she hadn’t got that dreadful phone call the morning she was meant to spontaneously fly to Fiji with Christopher, who was to say she wouldn’t still have chickened out? As her sisters were always reminding her, Emmy was a homebody, just like Ivy. A small town girl who didn’t want to leave. Someone who didn’t like change.

  And Christopher was Change with a capital “C.”

  “Doesn’t matter now,” Emmy said, hoping Rachel wouldn’t push the issue further. Thankfully her friend seemed to pick up Emmy’s reluctance and merely squeezed her hand.

  “As long as you know what you’re doing,” Rachel said, but before Emmy could reply, her cell rang with a call from Bec.

  “Hey,” her sister said without preamble. “Edo Windsor just came around to tell you his aunt was speaking to Millie Rider, who bumped into Shirley Venture, who said Monsieur Lafayette will be at Grayson’s Diner for apricot pie at two. I have no idea what any of this means, but apparently it was important enough for Edo to knock on the door for ten minutes.”

  “He did?” Emmy said, feeling bad Bec had been woken up. Her sister was a girl who liked her sleep. Still, now Emmy had a chance to track down the dove breeder. This just proved knowing everyone in town wasn’t always a bad thing. “That’s wonderful.”

  “If you say so.” Bec snorted and hung up. Emmy turned to Rachel, who was staring at her.

  “Bec’s back?” Her friend raised an eyebrow. “When did this happen?”

  “This morning, just before I came here. I would’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t want to interfere with my denial process.” Not to mention she’d been busy following Christopher around the vineyard.

  “She means well.” Rachel smiled. “Did she say why she was back?”

  “No, but I suspect Pepper put her up to it. You know what they’re like. A sledgehammer away from a demolition crew, especially when it comes to getting what they want.”

  “They wouldn’t sabotage the wedding,” Rachel said in a gentle voice. “And they can’t change who you are. You know you’re happiest here, surrounded by people you love and who love you. Surrounded by the memories of your ancestors. And no matter what happens, you don’t have to leave Sunshine. You’ll always have a home with us.”

  “Thanks,” Emmy said, but while Rachel meant well, living near Wishing Bridge Farm but not on it wouldn’t be the same. Not even close. It would feel like she’d failed Ivy. Failed the Watson tradition. Failed herself. “But like you keep saying, hopefully it won’t happen.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Anyway, enough about my dysfunctional sisters. Monsieur Lafayette’s going to be at Grayson’s. Even better, he’s bound to be in a good mood because Grayson’s makes the best apricot pie in the state. And why are you smiling?”

  “Because in your new career as a wedding planner, you’ve stolen a best man, and now you’re planning to stalk an eighty-five-year-old, bad-tempered dove breeder. That’s pretty amusing.”

  “I’m just doing my job,” Emmy said, defending herself, as Rachel’s cell buzzed with a text message.

  “Crisis in the cellar.” Rachel studied the screen before looking up. “Do you mind?”

  “Of course not. Go.” Emmy waved her off. It was a busy time of year for the vineyard, and her friend had already gone above and beyond the call of duty with the tour. As Rachel hurried away, she passed Melinda, delicately holding up her summery dress as she made her way toward the terrace. Her pale curls were piled high on her head, and if she managed to relax during the ceremony, she’d make an exquisite bride.

  “Emmy, there you are. I need to talk to you.”

  “You do?” Emmy’s overgrown to-do list flashed in her mind. She crossed her fingers. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. It’s perfect.” Melinda beamed, and some of the stress seemed to leave her face. “This place is just as lovely as you described. I just wanted to thank you for calming me down after the disaster at the Rosepot Inn. My mother said a meltdown would happen. Though, between you and me, I thought it would be over the flowers. I mean what’s her obsession with orange gerberas? Can she not see my complexion’s too pale for them?”

  “Right,” Emmy said, not sure how flood damage to twenty rooms was the same as an orange flower. Then again, after dealing with Melinda for the last few months, she wasn’t really surprised. “Well, I’m just pleased you’re happy over at the bed and breakfast I found you.”

  “Yes, I love it. And thank you for collecting Kit yesterday and giving him somewhere to stay. I finally got to meet him. I must admit I was worried about his reputation. He assured me that all he’s here to do is make sure the rings are delivered and that Lewis doesn’t put his bow tie on upside down. He’s so sweet.”

  “Yes, he is.” Emmy calmly nodded, realizing Christopher had purposely charmed his way into Melinda’s good books. And while it was nice to see the bride so relaxed (which would hopefully bode well for her reaction if Emmy failed to get Monsieur Lafayette to change his mind about the doves) she also realized Christopher had no intentions of giving up his girlfriend hunt. He’d just been appeasing his friend’s fiancée.

  Jerk.

  Emmy pushed her lips together as she glanced over to the grapevines where he’d been standing. He wasn’t there. Her stomach clenched as she scanned the area just in time to catch him disappearing around the corner, closely followed by bridesmaid number three. There was only one thing in that direction—the shed where the deliveries were sent. Lots of nooks and crannies in there.

  Oh no he didn’t.

  Her throat tightened as she edged around to block Melinda’s view, knowing the bride’s newfound Zen would disappear quicker than a box of donuts at a fire station if she thought there was a chance of trouble.

  “Is everything okay?” Melinda frowned, and Emmy forced herself to plaster on a smile.

  “Absolutely. Though, I just remembered something I need to discuss with Jackson.”
Not to mention I need to find the best man and kill him. Kill him dead. Then, without a backward glance, she hurried toward the shed, praying she wasn’t too late to stop him from causing chaos.

  …

  “Oh my God. You did not swim with sharks,” the blonde girl squealed, her blue eyes widening as Christopher finished his story. What was her name? It was either Daisy or Dora. Or, Pansy? What really mattered was she was a first grade teacher who could speak fluent Japanese and loved to kayak. In other words, she was the perfect fake girlfriend—clever and well travelled.

  Trent would love her.

  Even better, she always kept her passport up-to-date and was happy to travel at a moment’s notice.

  Everything he wanted. Okay, well, the squealing was a little intense, but he was sure he’d get used to it.

  “Yes, though the sharks aren’t nearly as scary as the Texas Horned Lizard I ran into last year. Do you know they squirt blood from their eyes?” Christopher said, quoting the article he had written about the incident.

  “No.” Delicate lines appeared on the blonde’s forehead, and she parted her lips ever so slightly. “That’s gross.”

  “Right.” Christopher nodded. The Texas Horned Lizard story never failed him. He put on what he hoped was his most charming smile. “So, this is going to sound a bit crazy, but I have a question to ask you, and—”

  “About Hawaii?” She wrinkled her nose in excitement while Christopher was forced to hide his surprise.

  “You know about that?”

  “Lewis told me. But don’t worry,” she added in a stage whisper, “he swore me to secrecy.”

  “I see,” Christopher said, not really surprised. Even in high school, Lewis had been incapable of keeping a secret. He just hoped Melinda didn’t know, or else he really would be in trouble.

  The blonde pouted. “You’re not mad are you?”

  “Not at all. It was just a surprise.” He realized Lewis had done him a favor. Especially since he hadn’t actually got around to considering how to bring up the whole, “will you by my fake girlfriend” question. “But I’d love to discuss it with you.”

  “Great, because I’m definitely interested in hearing more about it.” The girl let out a dreamy sigh and parted her full lips as she leaned even farther forward. If he didn’t know better he’d say she wanted to kiss him. He stiffened. The plan had been to discuss the situation, not to kiss anyone. Especially anyone that wasn’t Emmy. Except there wasn’t going to be any Emmy kissing. Not now, not ever. He also wasn’t about to cause any gossip, and so he stepped back from the girl, not quite willing to analyze the relief flooding through him.

  “Excellent. But it’s best if we discussed it somewhere else. Somewhere more private.”

  “Good point. I think you guys are playing golf next, and we’re all meant to be going to the spa, so what if we both ditch it and meet up at the motel. What’s your room number?”

  “I’m not staying there,” Christopher said, then realized it might be awkward to tell her where he was staying. It also sounded like he’d been sent to the naughty corner. “It’s a long story.”

  “And one I’d love to hear,” she said in a seductive voice as she plucked his cell phone from his pocket and tapped something into it. “Here’s my number and the address of a bar in Sunshine. Meet me there in an hour, and we can talk.”

  “Sounds perfect,” he agreed, just as Emmy rounded the corner, her dark eyes blazing. He mentally wiped his brow as he thrust his cell phone into his pocket. That was way too close.

  “Christopher, there you are.” Emmy folded her arms. “And Pandora.”

  Pandora. Of course. He knew that.

  “Emmy,” Pandora said in a cool voice. “Did you want something?”

  “Melinda needs to speak to you. She’s concerned about which garter she should wear.” Emmy’s voice was full of urgent concern that seemed to trigger a reaction in Pandora’s wide blue eyes.

  “R-really?”

  “Yes,” Emmy immediately agreed. “When I left she was saying the one with blue-flowered lace might be better.”

  “I don’t think so,” Pandora muttered under her breath and hurried off without giving Christopher a backward glance. As soon as she was gone, he frowned.

  “Tell me, was a single word of that true?”

  “Yes. There’s definitely a power struggle going on between Pandora and Tess over who gets to give the ‘something borrowed’ gift.” Emmy gave a smile that told him she might be a homebody but she wasn’t naive.

  A flash of their two nights together exploded into his mind—her quivering flesh, her curious hands, her lust-filled voice.

  His breathing increased before he shook himself. Okay, sure, so she definitely isn’t naive, but it doesn’t change who she is.

  Someone too scared to step out into the world.

  Someone who went back on her word.

  Someone who’d let him down.

  If only my body would get the memo.

  “In other words, you tricked her.” His voice sounded harsher than he intended.

  “I like to think it was a preemptive strike,” Emmy countered. Her breaths sped up, and he watched in fascination the uneven rise and fall of her chest. A tremor ran through his body in response. Yeah, this was not going well.

  “And what was this preemptive strike in aid of?” Christopher forced himself to forget about her chest, since no good could come from thinking about it.

  “We both know the answer to that one.” Emmy’s mouth tightened.

  “This is ridiculous.” He longed to point out that while Pandora had been up for kissing him, he’d totally resisted. However, this wouldn’t help his argument.

  Nor would the fact there’s only person I want to kiss, and it isn’t Pandora.

  “So is losing my family farm because my very first bride decides to write a terrible review about her dream day. Do you know what happens to wedding planners who get terrible reviews about their first wedding?”

  “No,” Christopher admitted, resisting the urge to wipe away the dark smudges under her wide eyes. “But whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not going to happen to you.”

  “At least we agree on something.” Emmy dug her car keys out of the straw bag draped over her shoulder. “Anyway, it’s time to go. I’ll drop you off at the golf course.”

  “That isn’t necessary,” he said. His plan was to take a rain check on the game and catch a taxi straight into town. All of which would be a lot easier without a chaperone. “I’ll go with Lewis and the guys.”

  “Really?” She raised an eyebrow, and while Christopher longed to just ignore her, he couldn’t find it in himself to make a scene.

  “Fine.” He held up his hands in surrender, and they walked silently back to her ancient truck and hopped in.

  She started the engine up and drove away from the rows of grapes, into the gently rolling hills that made up the landscape. Through the window, smells of hay and lavender tickled his nose, while the fall sunshine lay on the fields like a soft shimmering blanket. However, it was impossible for him to enjoy it with Emmy sitting next to him wearing that stony glare. This had to end.

  “I know you’re upset, but I’m not that guy. People like me. I’m nice. And I had a chat with Melinda, and we’re all good. Even your friend, Rachel, laughed at my jokes, so why can’t you trust me?”

  “Because I have firsthand experience of just how you operate,” Emmy said, as her cheeks turned a delicate shade of crimson. “Remember the dance floor?”

  “What?” Christopher frowned before widening his eyes. Oh, right. The dance floor. He was silent as the memory of soft red silk seemed to caress his fingers. After the christening, they’d gathered that evening at a restaurant for a sedate meal. Well, it had been sedate for everyone else. But for Christopher, fire had run through his blood, and the minute he and Emmy had stepped onto the dance floor together, something had ignited between them, and they’d locked lips. It was like the world stopped.


  No!

  Thinking about it was pointless.

  She might be what I want, but she isn’t what I need.

  “Exactly.” Emmy nodded, like she guessed what he’d been thinking. His bad. “Public places hold no fear for you, which means no matter how many smooth words you use on Melinda, until this wedding’s over you’re not leaving my sight.”

  He opened his mouth to tell her what had happened between them wasn’t normal for him. He preferred to be a little more discreet, less caught up in the moment. Unfortunately, he had the feeling Emmy wasn’t interested in hearing his explanation.

  “You can’t seriously think you can follow me around twenty-four-seven,” he said.

  “That won’t be necessary.” She gave a cryptic shrug before glancing at the clock on the dashboard. “Shoot. It’s already two.”

  “Is that a problem?” he said in a hopeful voice. “Because I’m happy to catch a taxi.”

  “Unlikely.” She turned left and eventually pulled up outside of an old-fashioned Ma and Pa style diner.

  “Are you going to tell me what this is about?” Christopher said.

  “I hadn’t planned to.” She took the keys out of the ignition and finally turned to him. “If I ask you to stay here, will you?”

  No.

  He wasn’t some walking-talking time bomb. He was a normal guy, just trying to get ahead. Why couldn’t she see that? Then he noticed the small lines around her full mouth, the same expression she’d worn when she told him her great aunt had died. His anger faded, replaced by understanding. Her maniac attempts to make the wedding perfect were tied up with saving Ivy’s legacy.

  He let out a deep breath.

  “Fine. I will not pass Go and I will not collect two hundred dollars.” He raised his hands. He was rewarded with a small smile that reminded him of the girl he’d met two years ago. Dangerous. “Do whatever secret wedding planner business you need to do. I’ll be here waiting.”