by Joanne Rock
And pulling away from her, his breathing more ragged than if he’d run the perimeter of the ranch, he thought it just might.
“I want you,” he told her simply, their breathing slowing as they stared at each other in the moonlight. Stars winked behind her, meteors streaking the sky like the world was about to end. “But only when you’re sure.” He slid her to the bench seat beside him, knowing he needed to leave before he broke the promise he wanted to keep. He pressed a kiss to her temple before standing. “Only when you’re ready.”
Walking away wasn’t easy with her sigh of regret whispering on the wind, even knowing she’d be on his arm tomorrow at the wedding.
Ten
Hannah picked a stray piece of straw from the hem of her silk organza dress. She never would have guessed the first surprise of the wedding day would be arriving at the ceremony in a hay wagon pulled by a big green John Deere.
She’d heard the tractor rumbling closer late in the afternoon when she had been expecting to see Brock. Instead of her date, a boy dressed in a cowboy hat and overalls—boutonniere pinned to the denim strap—knocked on her door and invited her into the wagon. One of the ranch hands had rolled out a carpet for her so she didn’t ruin her shoes, and when she’d stepped up into the unlikely conveyance, she’d been greeted by a handful of other guests, including Carson McNeill’s girlfriend, the stuntwoman Emma Layton, and Cody’s pregnant fiancée, Jillian Ross, the woman who’d been the location scout for Winning the West. Jillian, a gorgeous redhead dressed in a bright green-and-yellow tulle dress, explained that the men were helping their father get ready for the wedding, but that Brock had wanted to make sure Hannah had family to keep her company until he could join her at the ceremony.
Now, as the wagon bumped over a ravine close to the Black Creek Ranch, Hannah held on to one of the hay bales strapped to the sides. They were piled high on the exterior of the wagon to help shield wedding guests from long lens cameras and drones since the McNeills were trying to keep the tabloids from ruining their day.
Hannah feared she was going to end up ruining the day for Brock in the end anyhow. She couldn’t sleep after he left the night before, regretting that she hadn’t come clean with him about what they’d shared that first night together. She couldn’t deny that she had feelings for him, a fact pounded home by the way his kiss had dominated her dreams in the fitful hours when she had finally closed her eyes.
She hadn’t been honest about their heated first encounter because she’d been consumed with worry about her sister and hatred for Antonio. And when she’d first learned Brock was a McNeill, she’d been floored by the idea that she’d slept with a man related to Antonio Ventura—if only on paper.
Now that she knew Brock better, understood him for the kind of man he was inside, she owed him the truth. After the wedding festivities tonight, she would tell him. He’d been through so much with his family this week it didn’t seem fair to ruin his day. She wanted him to celebrate his father’s wedding. But her conscience wouldn’t let her enjoy another one of those toe-curling kisses without telling him the truth.
And then, it would be over.
So she planned to savor this day as much as she could before she offered her heart up for Brock to break.
“Your dress is beautiful, Hannah,” Emma was saying to her. A brunette with wide, dark eyes and delicate features, she wore a simply cut navy sheath. “And you look so familiar to me, I feel like we’ve met before.”
Tensing, Hannah knew her time of reckoning would come with this family. She just hadn’t wanted it to be today. At least, not yet.
Hannah forced a smile, reminding herself all the subterfuge had been for a good cause. “Now that you mention it, you look familiar to me, too. I think we worked for the same temp agency last spring.”
Emma frowned for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “Yes! I remember. We shared a house cleaning assignment one day in Beverly Hills, didn’t we?”
Thankfully, it hadn’t been the Ventura house when they’d worked together, which would have been a little too close for comfort.
The tractor downshifted, the engine noise quieting a bit as they slowed their progress. Around them, a few of the other guests took group selfies, posing with wildflowers that one of them had picked on a stop to load more guests.
“We do what we need to in order to make ends meet between jobs,” Hannah replied before redirecting the conversation. “How have you enjoyed the stunt work on this film?”
“I’ve grown really attached to the horses,” she admitted, graciously taking the bait. “And I don’t know how I would have gotten through the shoot without Carson, and now, his whole family.” She lowered her voice so that only Jillian and Hannah could hear. “I know in my gut now that my mother has been the one behind the blackmail. But we have to wait for the private investigator to have enough evidence before they will—” Emma blinked fast and whispered “—arrest her.”
Jillian slipped a supportive arm around the woman, quietly murmuring something to her.
“I’m so sorry,” Hannah said, meaning every word. She stood up enough to drag her hay bale seat in front of Emma, shielding her from view of the rest of the wagon to hide the other woman’s tears. “I had no idea.”
Jillian dug in her purse for a tissue and passed it to her friend while focusing on Hannah. “We know Brock has been dealing with a lot, with losing some of his memory. How is he feeling?”
Guilt gnawed at Hannah. She’d been so focused on her own family problems while Brock’s had been going through hell this week. “His head doesn’t ache anymore, but I know it frustrates him that he can’t remember the last several months.”
Emma halted in the middle of wiping her eyes. “I don’t think he even recognized me when he saw me at Donovan’s earlier this week.”
Hannah nodded. “I know the dynamics of the scandal have been confusing for him since he doesn’t remember everything leading up to it.” She bit her lip, wondering if she should ask them the question that Brock couldn’t help her with now that he had amnesia. The question that had kept her from telling Brock the truth when he woke up with no memory. “Do you think the McNeill family knew about Paige’s real identity before the scandal broke?”
The wagon rolled to a stop. Violin music played nearby.
Emma shook her head. Jillian blurted, “Cody was blindsided. Completely stunned.”
Hannah stood with the other women, unable to enjoy the swell of excitement through the rest of the group as they caught sight of the decorated barn where Donovan and Paige would exchange their vows and host a reception.
She had hidden the truth of that first night from Brock fearing that he could have a loyalty to the Ventura family. She hadn’t expected to fall for the rancher in the meantime. She hadn’t thought the omission would ever come back to bite her.
As she stepped down onto the lawn outside the barn, glimpsing Brock in his black tuxedo, his blue eyes locking on her, Hannah could already feel the ache of all she was about to lose.
* * *
Scarlett felt like an alien on a foreign planet as the wedding music began.
The people filling the barn were familiar enough, of course. She’d grown up on the Black Creek Ranch, and then after college, she’d moved into a remodeled bunkhouse on the property. She’d played hide-and-seek in this barn with her sisters, and she had once rescued a scared kitten from one of the rafters.
But the barn looked nothing like it had back then, when it was full of rusty old farm equipment. With the highest windows opened to let fresh air in, the barn’s gray stone walls were a beautiful backdrop to six-foot-tall candelabra spaced every few feet and decorated with cream-colored ribbons and white flowers. The heavy rafters were polished to gleaming, the wood glowing in the reflection of white fairy lights raining down from the ceiling. White tulle was hung tent-like between the beams.
The whole place smelled like lemon wax and roses. The linen-draped tables were decorated with white freesia and snapdragons in clear glass jars filled with bright yellow lemon slices.
And even the people seemed different. Her brother Brock, who normally never left the horse barn, suddenly couldn’t take his eyes off the beautiful actress he was with. And their surly father had developed a solicitousness where his wife was concerned, a tender affection that Scarlett hadn’t seen in all her twenty-five years.
She squeezed Logan’s hand beside her as they took their seats in the front row on the bride’s side. Madeline and her boyfriend, Sawyer, sat in the row with them, Maisie was sandwiched between the two couples and decidedly alone.
“I hardly recognize this place,” Scarlett whispered to Maisie. “And am I to really believe Dad went to all of this trouble on his own for Mom?”
Maisie poked her with her elbow, more from sisterly habit than anything. A love poke. Scarlett jabbed her in the arm in return. She’d missed her.
“Do you see these bags under my eyes?” Maisie whispered as the wedding music began. “I was up half the night decorating, thank you very much. But yes, it was all Dad’s idea.”
“Unbelievable. I’m gone for a week and the whole world turns upside down. Suddenly Dad is a romantic?” She was going to have a hard time staying angry with her father after this. She hadn’t seen him since her flight had landed late the night before, but her mother had seemed stronger and surprisingly happy when she’d visited with her this afternoon to help her dress.
Scarlett hadn’t had the heart to quiz her mother about Antonio Ventura on the day of her second wedding to their father, but she would. Soon.
“Believe me, it’s freaking me out,” Maisie whispered behind her hand as they stood for the bride’s entrance. “I’ll be the only cynic in the family at this rate.”
All the McNeill relatives in attendance were paired off, too. Ian and Lydia McNeill had made the flight with patriarch Malcolm and his fiancée, Rose. Lydia was pregnant with their first child and positively glowing. Damon and Caroline McNeill were there, too, taking a break from Transparent, the software company Damon headed in Silicon Valley.
“Even Brock is dating again.” Scarlett had seen one of Hannah Ryder’s films and thought she was talented but didn’t know much about her personally. “I asked Logan if he’s ever worked with Hannah before, but he said no.”
“Brock has amnesia,” Maisie reminded her. “I’m worried about him.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Scarlett said before all eyes turned to her mother at the entrance of the barn.
Paige looked beautiful in a slim ivory gown with a lace shrug that covered her shoulders. Her brown hair fell in glossy curls that Scarlett had talked her into. Normally, her mother favored a ponytail, her part a razor-straight line down the center of her head. But Scarlett had begged for curls and a bow, and her mother had agreed that it was “time for some changes.”
Behind Scarlett, Logan leaned close to speak into her ear, sending a delicious shiver down her spine just from his nearness.
“Look at your dad,” he said.
Scarlett glanced around Maisie’s shoulder where she could see her father’s face. The naked emotion there caught her off-guard. Love. Tenderness. A shining pride in the woman who walked toward him. Scarlett gulped back a tear at the same time Maisie dug in her handbag for tissues. She passed two over her shoulder.
As the vows began, Scarlett knew she’d been mistaken when she’d accused her father of being unfeeling about her mother’s welfare. Of course, she’d been right about her brothers being too protective when they’d sent a private investigator to LA to keep tabs on her. But she was going to forgive them because they were older brothers, and that was their thing.
Besides, she was empathizing a little too well now that she knew someone from her mother’s past had hurt her. All her own protective instincts were roaring.
For now, she was going to enjoy the wedding. Afterward, she would talk to her mother about what had happened in Emilio Ventura’s home to make Paige a fugitive from her own family. Because Scarlett wasn’t interested in simply weathering a scandal and protecting the McNeill name.
She planned to find out who was responsible for hurting her mom. And then hold them accountable.
* * *
Hannah stepped outside the barn just as the dancing started, needing a breath of fresh air.
The chamber musicians who had played earlier were packing up their instruments and loading them into the back of a pickup truck nearby. Inside, a country-western band had started to play, bringing the crowd onto a makeshift dance floor in one corner of the barn. The white lights and candelabra made the whole building glow, illuminating patches of the meadow around it through the open windows and doors.
The summer night had brought a cool breeze with it, and Hannah let the wind blow her silk organza dress, the guilty knot of feelings tightening in her belly the longer this night went on.
Behind her, she heard a familiar male voice. “I’ve been looking forward to a dance all day.”
Heat rushed through her, that jolt of reaction Brock could always elicit. With a word. A look. A touch.
She couldn’t deny him this dance. Not when the bride and groom were still celebrating inside.
“Me, too,” she told him honestly, taking his hand and letting him lead her back inside.
The band had swapped to a sultry slow song, the singer crooning romantic words that amplified all of the things she was feeling. The longing. The hunger. The fear that things wouldn’t last. As they reached the dance floor crowded with couples, Brock spun her easily into his arms, a protective hand at her waist, holding her close.
“I’m happy for my father,” he confided, nodding toward the bride and groom in the middle of the dance floor.
Donovan McNeill had eyes only for his wife as they swayed together. Paige glowed in his attention, her diamond wedding ring glittering in the reflection of a thousand fairy lights as she rested her hand on her husband’s shoulder.
“He pulled off an incredible event on very little notice,” she agreed. “And I haven’t seen any sign of paparazzi lurking.”
“So far, so good.” Brock’s hand shifted on her waist as he stared down at her, his touch making her breath catch. “You look beautiful tonight.”
She felt herself falling for him, her defenses crumbling fast. If only this could be real.
“I owe it to you for sending me the gown.” The silk organza hem teased against her calf, the delicate material fluttering around her as they moved.
Pale pink and dotted with tiny flowers, the dress was romantic without being too sweet. The cold shoulder treatment of the sleeves gave it a dose of sexy.
“I’m not talking about the gown,” he assured her, leaning closer. “It’s all you. Thank you for being my date tonight.”
She bit her lip, not sure what to say. She just knew she needed to redirect the conversation before she dug them both in deeper.
“It’s a testament to your family that you’ve come together this way, to celebrate a marriage and focus on the positive after all you’ve been through.”
The slow song came to an end, but Brock didn’t let go of her.
“I’m going to try to take a page from Dad’s playbook and put the past behind me. Not worry about the memories I’ve lost. Just enjoy the present with you.”
All around them, the couples on the dance floor clapped for the band. Hannah could only think about how thoroughly she’d screwed things up with Brock. Before she could say anything, he whispered in her ear.
“I want to go on a real date with you. Away from the family and the ranch. Get to know you.” He stared into her eyes, even while the singer announced the bride and groom were getting ready to take their leave.
The movement all around them, the rush to share hugs a
nd good wishes with the couple, saved Hannah from having to answer right away.
Brock took her hand and led her toward the doors so they could see off Donovan and Paige. Hannah knew her time with Brock would come to an end once the couple made their exit. She couldn’t accept his offer, not when she hadn’t been truthful.
And then after she told him, she knew, he wouldn’t be asking for another date.
Turning, she faced Brock. He looked far too tempting in his dark tuxedo, his handsome face bathed in moonlight.
She needed to speak fast before she weakened. Inhaling a bracing breath, she blurted, “Once we’re finished here, there’s something we need to talk about.”
Eleven
Half an hour later, back at her cabin for the night, Hannah invited Brock inside so they could talk.
Nerves wound tight, she knew there was no other way to move forward. She needed to tell Brock the truth about that first night they spent together. Even so, it worried her that she wasn’t free to tell him everything. Hope’s secret was not Hannah’s to share, and her sister’s emotional health and well-being had to come before everything else.
No matter how much she wanted to unburden herself fully.
“You look so serious.” Brock took her hands in his as they stood in the cabin’s tiny foyer. “Let’s sit and we’ll talk.”
He pressed the button on the remote that made the gas fireplace blaze to life. The orange flames leaped silently with no logs to crackle or pop. The warm light cast a romantic glow in the living area as Brock tugged her down to sit beside him on the leather sofa.
She shifted to see his face, knowing there was no easy way to say this.
“I haven’t been honest with you.” She stared down at her hands, her nails free of any polish because of the time period of the film she was shooting. She toyed with the eternity knot ring she wore, a simple sterling silver piece that matched the one she’d given to her sister for her high school graduation.
