The Most Wonderful Time

by Fern Michaels

  Then he lifted himself up and looked down at her.

  “Are you okay?”

  She pursed her lips together and nodded. Yup, totally fine. She was just trying to think of a way to get out of here before she embarrassed herself by thinking that his kissing her was an indication that he actually wanted her, when last night it was clear that he didn’t.

  He kissed her again, gently.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She would never see him again, surely. Well, except for tonight at the wedding. But after that, probably never. It wouldn’t kill her to be honest.

  “I’m just . . . confused.” Suddenly the popcorn pattern on the ceiling was really interesting.

  “What are you confused about?” He tilted her chin so she had to look at him and those damn chocolate eyes.

  “Um. Well, last night you were . . .” She waved her free hand vaguely in the direction of “last night you made it clear you weren’t interested.”

  “Last night I was drunk. And so were you, by the way.”

  And how, she thought. “I only had a few sips of moonshine.”

  “A few? Dang, girl, you can hold your drink. The first time, usually it takes just one to knock you flat on your ass.”

  She puffed a little with pride. It was sort of a weird thing to be proud of, being able to drink more moonshine than the average first-timer. But in this super-awkward moment, she was going to take whatever she could.

  Not sexy enough to seduce a hot mountain man, but at least she had a strong enough constitution to not pass out from one sip of moonshine.

  They could put that on her tombstone.

  “How do you feel now?”

  “Fine. A little fuzzy,” she admitted. But, really, surprisingly fine.

  “Then why’re you acting like the house is on fire?”

  Was she? She was just trying to get out from this totally unwilling man who was obviously just trying to humor her in order to lessen her humiliation.

  “I just . . . I should go.”

  “Oh.”

  She studied his face. Did he look . . . disappointed?

  “I mean, I don’t have to go. . . .” she tested.

  “You should go if you want to go,” he said in a voice that sounded like he was testing too.

  “I don’t have to go. If you don’t want me to, I mean.”

  “Hell, no, I don’t want you to go!”

  His vehemence surprised the shame right out of her. “Then why the hell did you shut me down last night?”

  “Because you were drunk and I didn’t know if you really meant it! And I was drunk, so even if you did really mean it, I’m sure I would have made an ass of myself!”

  Oh. “Oh.”

  She looked up at him. “Are we having our first fight?”

  He dropped his head to her shoulder. He was shaking. She hoped he was laughing.

  “I did mean it,” she whispered into his conveniently close ear.

  He stopped shaking.

  “Do you still mean it?” he asked her shoulder.

  “Yup.”

  He turned his head, just a little, and then his mouth was hot and wet on her neck. She shivered. That was the spot that always made her shiver.

  She felt him smile, then she felt his tongue trail a lazy path around the spot, and she positively squirmed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sleeping with Emma cuddled soft and warm next to him had been nice. Really, really nice. But having her hot and wriggling underneath him . . . nice was not the right word. Hot. Amazing. Right.

  He kissed a trail down her neck, then back up to her lips, just to make sure that when she said she meant it, she really did. And then he got lost in kissing her, and in running his hands up her shirt and over her sleep-warm skin, and before he knew it, his shirt was torn over his head and he was flipped on his back and Emma was straddling his hips.

  “Is this okay?” she asked as she leaned down into him.

  “Mmm-hmm,” he said into her mouth. But it wasn’t really fair, was it, that he was vulnerable to her ministrations on his bare chest while he was still fighting with her pajama shirt. So he bucked her up with his hips and she squeaked and sat up, looking disheveled and annoyed. Poor baby, he thought as he reached for the hem of her shirt. She pushed his hands away, though, and tore it over her head, her hair spilling down around her shoulders and his throat going dry as a bone.

  She was perfect. Her skin was like milk and as he explored her with his fingertips, he left a trail of pink blush behind. She raised her arms over her head and he traced a path down her sides and over her hips, down to where her heat met his. She leaned over him, her breath coming faster, her soft smoothness rubbing against his hairy roughness.

  To hell with the sweet and melty. He gripped her hair in his fist and pulled her closer for a deep kiss. He felt her gasp, and then her open mouth was his. Her tongue met his, and he would have sworn he heard her growl. Her hands were rough in his hair, and his moved down, down her back to press her closer to him.

  “Emma,” he said, breathless.

  “Abe!” she shouted.

  God, she felt good. And she was right there with him, grinding into him, kissing a trail down his chest, and—

  “Abe!”

  That wasn’t Emma. Unless she could shout and kiss and bang on his door at the same time.

  Probably not, because she froze, her mouth inches from his stomach.

  “Abe, I know you can hear me!”

  “Pete,” he muttered, not at all amused by his cousin’s interruption.

  Emma sighed, and it went straight through his chest hair and into his pants.

  “Do you need to get that?” she asked.

  He shook his head. If they ignored him, Pete would go away.

  “Abe, I’m serious! Daniel’s missing!”

  Emma’s head shot up, her face confused, which was probably what his face looked like, since he was confused too.

  “Pete, if this is some kind of joke—”

  Pete banged on the door again and jiggled the door handle.

  Abe shot Emma a look of apology and gently dislodged her from her very comfortable position on top of his hips, and slinked out of bed to answer the door.

  He only opened it a crack, but Pete barged in anyway. He only paused for a second when he saw Emma, or at least the Emma-shaped lump scrambling under his covers. “Hey,” he said, distractedly.

  “Hey,” she said, turning bright red.

  “Hey,” Abe said. “What’s the deal, Pete? Is this some kind of joke?”

  “No, man. I wish.” Pete tore a rough hand through his hair. His face was not the face of a man making a joke. “Daniel stayed in my room last night, you know, to make it special for the wedding, or whatever.”

  “Okay.”

  “And when I woke up this morning, he was gone.”

  “Did you try Kevin’s room?”

  “Yes, dumbass, I tried Kevin’s room. Kevin doesn’t know where he is and now he’s freaking out too.”

  “Maybe he just went for a walk.”

  “Have you looked outside today? Oh, probably not.”

  “Yeah. Not.”

  Abe and Pete stood in the middle of the room, staring at each other and trying to pretend that there wasn’t a half-naked librarian in his bed.

  “So . . . Daniel’s not in here?” Pete asked lamely.

  “No.”

  “I’ll go.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Nice to see you again, Emma.”

  “Bye, Pete.”

  When the door slammed behind Pete, Abe sat down heavily on the bed. Emma crawled over and sat next to him, pulling her shirt on. “Should we go look for Daniel?”

  He looked over at her, hair mussed and lips swollen. All he wanted to do was lay her down and finish the mutual ravaging they had started. But here she was, reminding him of the right thing to do.

  She was a good woman.

  He didn’t want to leave her whe
n the wedding was over.

  That thought shocked him. What was he thinking? He’d just met this girl. So, she was beautiful and fun and smart and sexy and she seemed to have fallen in love with his hometown, which told him that she had good taste and they had a lot in common. He just didn’t quite know what that was. And a weekend wasn’t enough time to explore it.

  That was it. When the wedding was over, he’d find a way to stay in touch with Emma.

  If there was a wedding.

  “Yeah, let’s go find the groom.”

  * * *

  It didn’t take them too long to find Daniel, after all. One of the housekeepers was changing the towels in Pete’s room when she heard a noise. Her scream had Emma and Abe running down the hall, and there was Daniel, curled up in a ball under the weird hangers you couldn’t steal and next to the safe that was impossible to open. It was a minor miracle that he fit. Although maybe he didn’t; hence the screaming housekeeper.

  “Hey, cuz,” Abe said as Emma assured the housekeeper that, yes, they knew this man and yes, he was fine and there was no need to call security.

  “Hey,” said Daniel. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night, or that he had slept in a ball in a hotel closet.

  “Why are you hiding in a closet?”

  “I’m not hiding.”

  “You know, people are going to think this is some kind of metaphor.”

  “Shut up.”

  Daniel took Abe’s offered hand and stood up.

  “What’s goin’ on? Are you gettin’ cold feet after all?”

  “No! I mean, I don’t know!”

  Emma’s heart sank. If this was really happening, she had to find Kevin. She might punch Daniel first.

  Abe took one of her hands, one that she had unconsciously balled into a fist, and gave her a reassuring nod. Then he sat next to his cousin on the bed.

  Daniel had his elbows on his knees and he was tearing at his hair. Poor guy really looked like he was in anguish.

  Good.

  “I love him so much,” Daniel said. Oh God, Emma thought. He’s going to cry. She couldn’t stand to see grown men cry. Even standing on the precipice of murderous rage, she knew if Daniel cried, she would crumble.

  “Then what’s the problem?” Abe put a gentle hand on Daniel’s back. Daniel seemed to relax.

  “Have you looked out the window?”

  They had, briefly. It was snowing. And not a gentle, picturesque snow. No, this was a wet, heavy, blinding snow.

  It was predicted to just pass over them, the woman in the lobby had told them. It should stop in an hour or so, and then there would be sunshine for the wedding. Sunshine, and lots of wet snow.

  “It’s terrible out there! People aren’t going to make it up the mountain.”

  “Daniel, that’s hours away. What is this really about?”

  “It’s not perfect! All Kevin wanted was a perfect wedding and I wanted that for him, and now—”

  “And you never learned to control the weather? What kind of jerk are you?”

  “It’s just . . . I know there’s going to be stuff in our life that is messy and terrible. I just wanted to give him this one perfect day, and—”

  “You sound like me, you know.”

  They all three turned, and there was Kevin in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, his feet bare. “I’m supposed to be the one who freaks out about the details.”

  Daniel stood up, but didn’t move toward the door. “I’m scared.”

  Emma swallowed her shocked gasp. She stood against the open door, trying to look as invisible as possible, but ready to jump into the fray should Kevin need her.

  “What are you scared of?”

  “What if it’s different?”

  “When we’re married?”

  “What if, I don’t know, what if we hate each other?”

  Kevin looked thoughtful, then walked over to Daniel. Abe slipped away and stood beside Emma.

  “We’re not going to hate each other.”

  “We could.”

  “So, you want to call off the wedding because we might one day hate each other?”

  “No! Of course not!”

  “You’re just freaking out?”

  “I woke up and I saw the weather and I just . . . If this is how our wedding is going to be, what’s our life going to be like?”

  “Daniel, babe. We’ve been together for seven years. Has our life always been perfect?”

  “Yes!”

  Kevin raised his eyebrow.

  “Fine, no.”

  “And haven’t we always dealt with it? Haven’t we gone through stuff together? Haven’t we fought and made up?”

  “Yes.” Daniel reached out a finger and traced a pattern on Kevin’s chest.

  Kevin trapped Daniel’s hand over his heart. “We could just get married right now, just the two of us in our pajamas, and I would be happy.”

  “Really?” Daniel looked skeptical.

  Kevin thought about it. “Well, maybe not in our pajamas.”

  Daniel laughed. Emma breathed.

  “All I need is you, babe. As long as you’re here, everything’s perfect.”

  Daniel nodded, then leaned in to kiss his almost-husband.

  Abe put his arm around Emma. “Crisis averted.”

  “We did it.”

  “Yeah. Now as much as I love these two, let’s go before they really start making out.”

  “We have a wedding to get ready for.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  As the receptionist predicted, the snow stopped and the sun broke through the clouds and it was “colder’n a witch’s tit,” as Pete colorfully said, but it was the perfect day for a wedding.

  Emma zipped her boots and stood in front of the mirror. The boots weren’t as dressy as her heels, but with her knee-length, dark plum dress, they didn’t look bad. Besides, she could dance in the shorter-heeled boots. If she wore heels, she doubted she’d be able to make it to her seat.

  Librarian problems.

  She was just fluffing out her hair one more time when there was a knock at her door. She cursed her skipping heart—it wasn’t Abe, it couldn’t be. He had to go down early to the barn where the ceremony would take place. That’s what he’d told her when he kissed her good-bye after they solved all of Kevin and Daniel’s relationship problems. Well, the problems that were interfering with the wedding, anyway. He’d kissed her and made her promise to save a dance for him—save him a dance!—and she’d come up here, floating and frustrated.

  It’s wasn’t Abe, it was Bernie and Liam, both looking polished and fancy in their wedding duds.

  Bernie whistled at her. “I know a fiddler who’s gonna love those boots.”

  “Ha-ha,” Emma said, and stepped aside to let them in. Bernie’s floor-length dress swished against Emma’s boots. Liam pulled at the neck of his shirt. “Hold on,” she said. “You’re messing it up.” She slapped Liam’s hands away and straightened his tie for him.

  “Thanks,” he muttered.

  Before she could close the door, Becky was panting in the doorway. “Oh, good. I didn’t miss you. I thought I was going to have to walk over by myself.” She looked absolutely adorable, if a little flustered, in her tea-length dress with a giant peacock feather pattern on it. She slipped into her shoes as she walked into the room. “Can’t run in these heels,” she explained.

  “So how badly are we going to freeze on the way over there?” Bernie asked, sticking a wool hat on top of her formerly fabulous hair.

  “It’s sunny,” Liam offered. Liam, who had no jacket on except the one that went with his suit.

  They bundled up and headed outside, waving at the other guests they had met over the weekend. They all huddled together and walked in a freezing bunch over a freshly shoveled stone pathway that led to the big red barn on the edge of the hill.

  “God, look at this view,” Emma said, pausing to take in the snow-covered trees and the sun streaming over the valley.


  “Look at it later,” Becky said, squeezing her arm and huddling her into the barn.

  “Whoa.” Bernie stopped in front of them at the entrance to the barn.

  Because it wasn’t a barn. It was a daggun winter wonderland.

  They walked under an arch of willows spun with tiny white lights. A white runner led up the aisle to a matching willow arch. Votive candles were scattered around the space, making the old wood glow. A few dozen white folding chairs were split between either side of the aisle, and the four of them got the last four seats together in the last row.

  Emma looked around in wonder, taking in the lights and the shadows and the music. Her eyes stopped on the band: a banjo and a mandolin player whom she recognized from the night before, and Abe. They sat in a half-moon, picking (or pickin’, as she’d learned) a slow, sweet melody as people took their seats. Abe looked pressed and clean, his hair brushed back in a smooth wave, his suit cut perfectly over those broad shoulders.

  “Good-lookin’ band,” Liam whispered to her.

  “Mmm-hmm,” she said absently, mesmerized by the movement of Abe’s bow.

  Then the music stopped, and Abe stood. Someone coughed and all heads turned to the back of the barn, where Daniel and Kevin stood, handsome and watery-eyed, ready to walk down the aisle.

  They didn’t hold Emma’s attention long. As soon as Abe began to play, she turned back to watch him, his eyes closed, swaying to the music he made. It was low and slow, full of hope and promises, like a lover’s voice carrying over the hills. By the time Kevin and Daniel reached the minister at the front arch, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Abe dropped his bow arm and wiped his eyes with his forearm, and Emma started tearing up all over again. He caught her staring and crying as he headed to his seat in the front, and he winked at her. Great, she thought. Now I’m drooling, crying, and my heart is melting. So much for the eye makeup.

  “Dearly beloved,” the Unitarian minister said. Kevin wiped a tear off of Daniel’s cheek and dammit, there went more tears, then laughs, then vows, then cheers, then they were married and the party could start for reals.

  Chapter Seventeen

  While everyone else was busy watching Kevin and Daniel each become the happiest man in the world, the staff of the Froggy Rock Ski Chalet had been busy transforming the mess hall into a bona fide banquet hall. In true Tate fashion, it took about three seconds for the room to turn into a full-on party. One of Daniel’s architect friends was deejaying from his iPad, and before the chafing dishes were even hot on the buffet, people were out on the dance floor. Abe had quickly abandoned his seat at the kids’ table and was working the room, getting his cheeks pinched by aunties and lots of back slaps. As he traveled between family and friends, he kept an eye on Emma. She mostly sat with her friends, but she got up to say hi to Granny Sue and to dance to some truly awful nineties pop music.