by Amanda Ashby
All she knew was how he felt.
Like a guy who didn’t want to stay still and settle down.
I need to get out of here.
“You only have milk and cookies down here, and I really need to start work on the wedding. Plus, I want to be back before Bec wakes up,” Emmy rambled, not bothering to add that Bec wasn’t exactly an early riser.
“One, I plan on feeding you more than milk and cookies, which is why I went out to get supplies. And two, since it was your kitchen I went and got the supplies from, I can assure you Bec’s already up,” he added, giving her an even more lethal smile.
He was doing it on purpose, for sure.
“Wait, what? Are you sure Bec was up? As in my sister? Short hair, perky personality, and the ability to sleep through a hurricane?” Emmy’s confusion mounted. It might be out of character for her to wake up in someone else’s bed, but that wasn’t nearly as out of character as it was for Bec to get up early. It made no sense.
“One in the same.” He ushered her out of the bathroom and into the kitchen area. On the chipped Formica table was a bowl of farm eggs, a handful of herbs from the garden, and the bread Emmy had baked yesterday. He really had been at the house. Which meant Bec really had been up. He gave a quizzing glance. “Is that a problem?”
You have no freaking idea.
Her sister might not normally be a light sleeper, but she was certainly a lightweight when it came to keeping her mouth shut. And while it had been bad enough when Emmy came home from her last encounter with Christopher, at least Rachel had been reasonably respectful of Emmy’s desire not to discuss it. Unfortunately, Bec would be about as reasonable as a bull in a shop full of dainty, bright red china. It would definitely interfere with the denial process.
Unless she thinks I’m still asleep in my bedroom.
Hope flared in her stomach, but Christopher just grinned, as if somehow reading her mind.
“She knows.”
Emmy s ucked in her breath—which was a mistake, as Christopher’s aftershave caught in her nose. Her skin tingled in response. I am not a slave to my body. She dug her nails into her palm to lessen the sensation.
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure. I got the double thumbs-up and then she officially welcomed me to the family. There was even a secret handshake.”
“This is bad.” Emmy sat down and put her hands over her face.
“Okay, I’m trying not to be too insulted, but why is that such a bad thing? Bec’s your sister, not your keeper.” He sat next to her and gently removed her hands from her face. Her body immediately responded by sending goose bumps up the length of her arms.
Which was all part of the problem.
“It’s complicated,” Emmy said before letting out a sigh. “Actually, no it’s not. Bec will tell Pepper, and they’ll both use it as more ammunition for why we should sell the farm. That I need to get out into the world and experience things. Relationships. And it’s not like I can tell them we had a one-night-stand deal, because they’d never believe me.”
“Why not?” He gave her a curious look.
Because that’s not the sort of person I am.
And if you knew that, you’d think I was even more of a home-loving farm girl than you already do.
She licked her lips and cursed herself for not having the good sense to wake up five minutes earlier, thereby avoiding this conversation altogether. Or, to not succumb to him in the first place. What she should’ve done was picture him wearing a gravy-stained T-shirt and sporting a fat walrus moustache. Surely that would’ve stopped things from coming to this.
Oh, and when had life become so complicated? Wait, don’t answer that.
“It doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything.” She tried not to notice he was still holding her hand, his fingers softly stroking her palm with a feather-like touch. Her stomach contracted. There should be a law against using that kind of move before her first cup of coffee. Despite all the reasons she’d just told herself why their night together had been a bad idea, the longer she was near him, the more she was drawn back into the strange, confined snow globe where only the two of them existed.
“I don’t want to forget.” His fingers tightened around hers. “I had a phone call from my agent this morning. Asking about Hawaii.”
“Oh.” Emmy pulled her hand away, trying to swallow back her disappointment. Which was crazy. She was the one who’d virtually insisted on having a one-night stand, so she shouldn’t be bothered he was still looking for a fake girlfriend. And maybe it wouldn’t bother her—if she were dead and didn’t have a pulse. Unfortunately, the way her heart was hammering meant she was very much alive, and jealous in a way that could only lead to trouble. “I see.”
“He was pissed I hadn’t made any progress,” Christopher clarified. “I don’t think he appreciated the effort a certain wedding planner went to.”
Emmy took a deep breath. “Christopher, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause problems, but as soon as the wedding’s over, you’ll be free to ask Pandora or Nancy, or any of the other bridesmaids about it.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“W-what are you talking about?” Emmy’s pulse fluttered as she dared to look up. It was a mistake—his green eyes caught hers and held her captive.
“I’m talking about us. What if we could make it work?”
“We’ve discussed this,” she said helplessly, wishing the vision of their bodies wrapped together would leave her mind for just a minute so she could compose a complete sentence. “We want different things, which is why last night was just going to be a one time event.”
“I know that’s what we said. But what if we are wrong? What if there is a way?”
“What kind of way?” she cautiously asked.
“I think you should come to Hawaii with me.”
“You want me to be your fake girlfriend?” The breath caught in her throat and her head started to spin. Hawaii. It was like two years ago. Only the tropical island was different. But was she different? Was he?
“Yes, but without the fake part,” he said with a grin. “Think about it, Emmy. We’re great together. I mean mind-blowingly great. Imagine how much better if would be if we could have a week of that in Hawaii. It would give us more time together. Time to figure out what we have and where we want it to go.”
“Christopher.” Her voice was breathy. “It’s all happening so fast. And I still have the wedding to deal with. And the farm. I just—”
“This isn’t me asking you to give up anything. It’s just one week of your life to let us explore each other. See if this thing fits us.” He used the tip of his thumb to trail a line up her arm. She trembled in response. “Come to Hawaii with me.”
She closed her eyes, his words burning her skin just as surely as his touch. Then when she opened them again he was still there. He was real. Possibility danced along her spine. But—
“Look,” he said, as if guessing her hesitation. “You don’t have to answer right away. Just think about it, and I promise I won’t try to influence your decision.”
“Really?” Some of the panic that had been building in her chest subsided.
“Really.” He lifted his hands in a mock Boy Scout salute. She smiled. Why can’t I think rationally when I’m in his presence?
“Okay, I’ll think about it,” she found herself saying and was rewarded by a kiss, his breath hot against her mouth. Oh, yeah. That’s why.
“W-what are you doing?” she stammered while trying to ignore the fireworks his touch always brought out in her. “I thought you weren’t going to influence me.”
“What, this? This isn’t influencing you.” His fingers inched up her legs, almost rendering her speechless, and his mouth lingered only inches from hers. “I’m so neutral you could call me Switzerland. It’s just I realized we still have twenty minutes before all of your wedding helpers arrive. It seems a pity to let those minutes go to waste.”
Emmy let out a
soft groan as her mouth once again found his. She could get used to not being influenced. Then he slid his fingers under the hem of the short black dress and the world once again disappeared.
Chapter Nine
“Okay, so Jackson insisted on putting in four extra cases of white,” Rachel said several hours later as they stood outside the barn with the September sun washing down over them. Tiny insects buzzed around in the freshly mown grass, while caterers worked in the kitchen. Emmy did a quick time-check. Two hours until the ceremony. “And there’s some extra pinot noir as well.”
“Thanks. You guys are lifesavers.” Emmy ticked the wine off her list and allowed herself a small smile. Despite Christopher’s unorthodox breakfast, everything was going to plan, thanks to all her friends who’d turned up to help.
“Hardly. Melinda’s paying top price.” Rachel pushed the trolley full of boxes into the red barn and put them behind the makeshift bar that had been built from two large wine barrels and an ancient oak door.
“Yes, but she’s not paying for you and Jackson to stay here for the rest of the day to set up. Or any of the hours of extra time you’ve both put in to help me pull this thing off.” Emmy looked around the barn. It was slowly being transformed—mismatched chairs around rows of tables all covered in vintage tablecloths and decorated with old, cut-glasses vases that she’d discovered in the attic and crammed with fresh flowers. And at each setting were the handwritten name cards Bec had done, looking so amazing even Melinda had been silenced when she’d turned up unexpectedly to see how it was all going.
“A rising tide floats all boats.” Rachel came to a halt and fluffed out her purple hair. “If this venture does well it will help everyone around here. But enough about that. I want to hear more about you and the best man.”
“W-what do you mean?” Emmy gulped, resisting the urge to check there were no tell tale signs on her of what she and Christopher had been doing last night. Or earlier. A smile started to form before she quickly smothered it. Now was not the time or place. Pity.
“Please. I wasn’t born yesterday. Look at the way you’re glowing. And he can’t take his eyes off you.” Rachel scoffed before grinning. “Plus, Bec told me.”
Emmy let out a groan as her sister joined them.
She’d made a deal with herself that she wouldn’t think about Christopher’s vacation proposal until after the wedding was over. Unfortunately, her friend and sister hadn’t received her silent memo.
“What?” Bec sat down on a nearby chair. “You didn’t think I was going to keep it to myself did you?”
“No, but I thought you’d at least wait until after the wedding before blurting out my personal life to everyone.”
“Hello, I’m not exactly everyone.” Rachel sat, too, and patted the next chair for Emmy to join them. “Come on. Spill.”
“Yeah.” Bec’s blue eyes were dancing with excitement. “Christopher refused to go into details. Men are so weird like that.”
“Aren’t they just? It’s almost like they don’t want you to know.” Emmy reluctantly sat down. “Okay. We can take a five-minute break but then we need to double-check the microphone at the bridge is working as well as remind the DJ he cannot play Chris de Burgh no matter how nicely someone asks. Oh, and—”
“Emmy,” her sister and friend chorused, and Emmy held up hands in defeat.
“Fine. But once we have this conversation we’re not going to discuss it again. Agreed?” Emmy pushed her lips together to let them know she meant business.
“That will depend entirely on the level of detail you provide.” Bec grinned. “Now, out with it. How did this happen?”
“Okay, so at the party last night we danced. Slow danced. I tried to give him the just-friends speech, but then I accidently took him to the wishing bridge on the way home. And, well he made a wish that I’d kiss him—”
“The wishing bridge?” Bec let out a whistle. “I knew you couldn’t have been immune to those shoulders.”
“What’s that mean?” Emmy protested, while secretly agreeing. Those shoulders are everything.
“We all know what the wishing bridge means to you, so if you took him there, you must really like him. Really, really like him,” Bec said.
Rachel’s mouth turned into a frown. “Emmy, you’re still trying to get over what happened last time, so why would you do it again, knowing it doesn’t have a future?”
Emmy hoped her cheeks didn’t look as red as they felt. “It’s complicated.”
“What are you saying?” Rachel’s eyes lit up. “That there is a future?”
“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know.” She let out a reluctant sigh, knowing they would manage to weasel the whole story out of her. So much for not thinking about it until after the wedding. “He asked me to go to Hawaii with him. To be his fake girlfriend. Minus the fake part.”
“No way! This is epic. You’re going to Hawaii? I’m so excited.” Bec squealed in delight before catching the solemn expression on Emmy’s face. She immediately poked out her lower lip, much like she used to do when she wanted someone to tie her shoelaces. “Please tell me you didn’t refuse him. Oh God. You did. You said no to him. For the second time. Emmy Watson, what the hell’s wrong with you?”
“I didn’t say no. I just didn’t say yes. And this is why I tried to avoid you finding out.” Emmy braced herself for the speech about to follow. It would involve spreading her wings. Being more adventurous. Grabbing life with both hands. There might even be some bird cage imagery invoked.
“Why? Because I might make sense?” Bec demanded. “I just don’t understand why you’re so closed off to having a relationship with a guy who about thirty minutes ago was helping old Martha make daisy wreaths for the flower girls. Daisy wreaths! That kind of makes him perfect.”
“And hot,” Rachel chimed in with a grin. “Very, very hot.”
“Good point.” Bec gave Rachel a grateful nod. “Perfect and hot. Not to mention clever, kind, and a great cook. Why can’t you even consider giving this thing a chance? You should spread your wings. Grab life with both hands. Step outside this cage you’ve built for yourself.”
And there it is. Emmy only just managed to resist rolling her eyes.
“It’s not that simple. What if I go to Hawaii and then he wants me to go somewhere else? What about the farm? Ivy’s legacy? Not to mention this wedding business. The only way I can get my mortgage is if I keep booking more weddings, and that won’t happen from a beach in Hawaii. How can I keep juggling everything if I’m so far away?”
“Hey.” Rachel reached out and grabbed her hand, her voice soft. “Bec and I are doing a very lousy job of explaining ourselves here.”
“Really? I thought I nailed it with the wing thing,” Bec interjected, but Rachel ignored her.
“Just because he likes to travel and you like to stay where you are, it doesn’t stop you from having some kind of relationship. What does he do between jobs? Surely he comes to the States from time to time. Can’t he just visit then? And as for you. I know you’re not as stuck in your ways as you’d have your sisters believe. You could always go on the occasional trip with him without the whole town of Sunshine coming to a halt. Do you get where I’m going with this?”
“I do.” Bec gave a romantic sniffle. “And you’re right. Emmy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a hard time. I just want you to be happy. And Christopher seems to make you happy.”
“But the farm,” said Emmy. “The business. I haven’t even had the first wedding yet. What if it all goes wrong?”
“Today’s going to be amazing.” Rachel gave her a firm glare. “And so will the next wedding and the next one. I know you’re scared to even spend a minute not thinking about Wishing Bridge Farm, but it’s time. I think you can make this work.”
The small bubble of panic mounting in her chest began to fade as Rachel’s words sank in. For so long her focus had been saving Ivy’s legacy. Was it time to expand her thoughts? Expand her world? What if she co
uld go Hawaii and then come back to the farm and still have Christopher in her life? Her pulse fluttered at the picture her mind was painting. A picture where the both of them were together.
“I’ll think about it,” she slowly said and was rewarded by Bec throwing her arms around her. Emmy wasn’t surprised. Bec was the hugger of the family, unlike Pepper who had a thing about physical contact. And while normally Emmy drew back after a couple of seconds, she found herself returning her sister’s embrace, not realizing just how much she’d missed Bec’s energetic presence.
But before she could say anything else, the caterer came charging toward them, her cheeks red and her mouth set in a grim line. Emmy clutched at her clipboard. Oh no. Here comes the other shoe about to drop.
“Please tell me it’s not the salmon.”
“The salmon’s fine.” The caterer came to a halt, puffing slightly as she caught her breath. “It’s my apprentice. He’s just sliced his finger.”
Emmy went pale. “That’s terrible. Is he okay? I have a first aid kit. Or should we call Phillip at the doctor’s office?”
“We’ve already called, and one of the waiters is driving him there right now. But I still have two hundred salads that need prepping, not to mention the—”
“Lead the way,” Bec cut in. Emmy and the caterer both widened their eyes, and Bec frowned. “Don’t look at me like that. What do you think I’ve been doing to support myself for the last three years? I’ve worked in more bars and restaurants than I care to mention. So, lead the way and let me get to work.”
“Can you use knives?” The caterer narrowed her eyes.
“I have my own set upstairs. I always travel with them,” Bec said, causing Emmy’s mouth to drop. Here she was thinking her sister only traveled with a wing, a prayer and a stuffed alligator.
“Are you sure about this?” Emmy double-checked, but Bec just laughed.
