Wasn't this the kind of situation Quinn had agreed to help him with in the ridiculous deal they'd made?
"I don't think Wilder needs my advice." She spoke to Shelby but let her gaze linger on Wilder's face for a moment more.
It was a lame response, she knew. And it didn't dissuade Shelby in the slightest.
"Oh yes, he does," Shelby scoffed.
Quinn faced Shelby, but she could still feel Wilder watching her. His attention hadn't shifted, even though Shelby continued to talk. Quinn had been aware of his expectant gaze on her the entire time she'd been talking flowers with Mrs. Caine. Expectant and... hopeful?
She forced herself to concentrate on Shelby's words. "...you tell someone who is never satisfied with the woman he's with? A man who's always looking for something better to come along?"
Quinn wasn't convinced that described Wilder at all. If he was only looking for the next best thing, why would he be wasting his time with her? He'd put an end date on it—the weekend—and, well, maybe it was foolish, but she didn't want to believe he was as selfish as Shelby seemed to imply.
She stole another glance at him. One eyebrow twitched. He expected her to answer, to hold up her side of the bargain.
"I think..." Quinn paused, searching for the right response. "Someone like that, you know, someone who thinks the grass will always be greener somewhere else, is never really going to be happy. It's important to be content in the here and now. You know?"
Something sparked in Wilder's eyes, and it wasn't satisfaction. It was something intense and sharp, something that felt like a question.
She rushed on, tearing her focus from his face. "But I don't think your brother is like that."
Shelby curiously surveyed both of them.
The questioning gazes of the siblings bore down on Quinn as intensely as the Texas heat. If only the sun would just scorch her into a pile of ash and put her out of her misery.
From the gazebo, Mrs. Caine held her phone up and announced, "Claire has returned from her massage. Let's go inside and cool off a bit, and then we'll have a run-through of the wedding before dinner."
Quinn readily agreed. She'd be happy to escape the sweltering heat, and even more so to dodge the tension-filled moment with Wilder and his sister.
"I've gotta make a call," Shelby said, whipping her phone from her back pocket and striding toward the house, quickly outpacing them.
Mrs. Caine made a minuscule adjustment to one of the chairs as she headed toward the B&B. Quinn stayed near her, hoping Wilder wouldn't say anything else in front of his mom.
Maybe he'd forget about the whole thing.
They made it a whole ten steps before Mrs. Caine took another phone call and raced toward the house to take care of the newest wedding emergency.
Alone again, Wilder didn't waste a second. "Being content, huh?" he said. "That sounds an awful lot like settling."
Quinn gritted her teeth. She should've run while she'd had the chance.
"Is that what happened with your ex? You settled?"
Bother. She only wished that's what it had been. She'd been infatuated with Andrew—she knew now that she'd never really loved him—and had hidden behind her feelings for him. She'd continued on blindly because she'd been afraid of rocking the boat and getting her heart broken.
She'd known exactly what kind of man Andrew was the entire time. She'd just never expected him to break up with her.
Wilder slid a hand beneath her elbow, stopping her just before they reached the porch steps. Gently, he turned her toward him. She'd hoped he wouldn't demand an answer.
"I don't want to talk about it," she said.
He searched her face. She tried to pull off the expressionless thing he did so well, but she probably only made herself look like an idiot.
He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You should never settle." His hand cupped her face, and the sincerity in his eyes pierced through to her core. "You should have the best—even if it means demanding it."
That didn't fit Quinn at all.
But before she could contradict him, his thumb rasped against the apple of her cheek, and she read his intent. Jerking away, she wagged a finger at him. "No more kissing."
Even as she said the words—breathlessly—her pounding heart protested.
He only grinned at her. A wide-open smile that said she could run, but she couldn't hide.
She was toast.
Chapter 3
17 Hours to Go-Time
Wilder was in deeper than he'd expected to be. Quinn intrigued him, and that was dangerous.
She had layers. Like the thing with her ex, The Jerk. Wilder's words about that relationship must've hit close to home, because she'd shut him down.
And she'd seen through him when Shelby'd tried to embarrass him by asking her opinion of his dating life. He wasn't always on the lookout for something better. He just liked to keep things simple.
Quinn was anything but simple.
His mom interrupted his thoughts. "Wilder, honey, you'll be standing here by Nicholas."
Wilder stepped into line between his brother and The Jerk, who had his nose buried in his cell phone, not paying attention. Hopefully the guy would put it away for the ceremony tomorrow.
At Mom's instruction, Wilder positioned himself just off the step of the gazebo. Nick stood on the first step, ready to take Claire's hand and help her up into the structure.
Mom headed off across the lawn to where the bride and her two attendants waited.
Wilder had hoped not to be in the sweltering heat for the rest of the day, but that wish hadn't come to pass. He'd changed T-shirts but was already sweating through this one, too, even though the sun was descending in the sky and an evening breeze blew.
Something was up with his brother. Nick's hands were shoved in his pockets, and a frown pulled at his face—a total contrast to the joy he'd worn at the engagement party months ago.
"What's up?" Wilder nudged Nick with his elbow. The Jerk still wasn't paying attention.
Nick exhaled a sharp, humorless laugh. "We had a fight. Claire and I."
On the night before the wedding?
Mom had herded Shelby and Quinn off the steps and halfway across the lawn, but had apparently stopped to tell them something.
"I don't get what the big deal is," Nick muttered, running one hand through his hair. "If I see Claire in the morning, it's not really bad luck."
"It's just superstition, man." Wilder slapped his brother on the shoulder. "But it's Claire's wedding, too, right?"
Nick muttered something under his breath, and Wilder looked—truly looked—at him. There was a fine sheen of perspiration at his temples, and his face was a little off-color. "Hey, man. You feeling okay?"
Nick shrugged off the question. "I'm fine." An invisible Leave me alone was stamped on his forehead.
Or maybe Wilder was imagining it.
Wilder was only three years older than Nick, but he’d always been closer to Shelby, who was eight years his junior. He still didn't get why Nick had asked him to be best man, unless Mom had had something to do with it. Or Claire.
"You getting cold feet?" he asked.
Nick turned a hot glare on him, but after a moment, his eyes narrowed and changed. "Shelby told me you've been hitting on Quinn," he said, his voice low. "I'm not sure Claire would appreciate you making a pass at her friend. She knows your reputation matches your name."
Wilder glanced over his shoulder to make sure The Jerk hadn't heard. Didn't seem he had, thank goodness. Wilder's deal with Quinn would be busted if her ex suspected they weren't really together.
He turned back to Nick. "Shouldn't you be more worried about your own love life right now?" His brother was the last person Wilder had thought would be up in his business this weekend. Could it be that Nick was trying to deflect by picking a fight?
Thankfully, their hushed conversation dropped as Shelby and Quinn approached and moved into their assigned places, Shelby in th
e grass opposite The Jerk, and Quinn across from Wilder below the gazebo's first step. Even after a long, hot day, she looked beautiful.
Quinn's gaze flicked once in his direction before bouncing to the minister, who stood at Nick's right.
Andrew chose that moment to mutter, "Don't waste your time with Quinn. There are plenty of women out there who aren't so high-maintenance."
It was obvious Quinn had heard. Her cheeks glowed red, and she averted her gaze, eyes hidden beneath dark lashes.
Wilder had to muster every ounce of his self-control to keep from hauling off and punching the guy square in the throat. Inhaling deeply, he forced his fists to unclench and shoved his hands into his jeans’ pockets.
He kept his eyes on Quinn but responded to The Jerk. "Quinn is amazing. Only an idiot would think otherwise." Wilder could feel the questioning glances coming from both his siblings, but he didn't care. What he'd said was the God's honest truth.
Quinn's eyes met his, and he felt a pinch deep in his gut at the vulnerability in her gaze. He winked at her, and, though she was still blushing, her chin came up the slightest notch.
Wilder's urge to deck the guy standing next to him began to fade, but if The Jerk said one more word about her, so help him...
The minister started the rehearsal and droned on about the ceremony. Wilder couldn't stop watching Quinn, who was paying attention as if there were going to be a test over the material. At one point, though, she snuck a cell phone from a hidden pocket in her slacks. She didn't raise it up, just tilted it beside her thigh, enough so she could see the screen.
She frowned, unhappy with whatever she saw there. She returned it to her pocket and murmured agreement when Claire mentioned the wedding ring. Shoot, Wilder would be responsible for Claire's ring for at least a half hour tomorrow.
Quinn shifted her weight several times throughout the rehearsal, almost as though her feet or lower back were aching.
Seriously, he was going a little overboard. After the engagement party, he'd been worried about her. At least, that's what he'd told himself when he'd started listening to her nighttime radio show.
He could do interested, as long as he didn't let himself get too close.
As the minister prattled on about the vows, one of her hands came up to rub at her wrist.
Hmm.
She caught him looking and quickly dropped both hands to her sides, but something was hurting her. Wilder was sure of it.
He was preoccupied with the thought for the rest of the rehearsal, wanting to help her somehow.
When they'd done a full run-through of the ceremony, the minister dismissed the wedding party to head into the B&B. Claire grabbed Nick's hand and happily tugged him toward the farmhouse, but he flicked a look at Wilder as they passed. Some kind of shadow darkened his brother's eyes, but Wilder couldn't make sense of it.
Was it sadness?
Why would that be?
There was no time to ponder it as Mom ushered the rest of them inside. "I'm sure dinner is almost ready," she said. "Let's go in and get cooled off."
Quinn's phone rang from her pocket. She and Mom exchanged a look. "It's probably the florist. I'll take it and catch up."
Quinn hung up the phone, defeated and weary and freaking out more than a little bit.
"Problem?"
She jumped at Wilder's voice. He hadn't gone in with the others but was standing far enough away to give her a semblance of privacy. He moved nearer.
How was she going to fix this? She rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to keep a budding headache from full bloom. She didn't need another pain to add to the ever-present aches throughout her body. Her joints already felt like they were on fire, and the night was only going to get longer.
And Wilder Caine... Well, he was a pain in the neck that she couldn't shake.
"The florist just told me the last deposit wasn't paid and the contract was cancelled a month ago. I have to figure out how to find flowers on the night before the wedding and salvage this disaster."
Her brain was whirring, but it felt as if the connections weren't firing. She half-turned away from him, back toward the house. She needed a computer. They were so far out in the boonies, she couldn't hope for a local florist. She'd probably have to drive back to Austin, assuming she got lucky enough to find one that was open late.
"Whoa. Hang on." It wasn't fair that it only took him two strides to catch up to her.
She shook off his hand when he reached for her. "I said not now, Wilder."
He grabbed her elbow, more firmly this time, and the pressure on her joint had her gasping as searing pain sliced through her.
He let her go instantly. "Quinn. What was that? Did I hurt you?"
She rubbed the joint. "I'm fine." After Andrew's muttered jab, there was no way she was admitting her RA to Wilder. He wanted a fun weekend fling, and her RA was decidedly un-fun. Maybe she was high maintenance, but it wasn't as if she wanted to be. She couldn't change something that was a part of her.
Wilder was still watching her. She saw his eyes flick to her arm, and she stopped rubbing it. He wouldn't find any bruises. RA was an invisible sickness, her own immune system turning against her.
She didn't want him to know. And she didn't have time for this.
"Just hang on a minute," he said, his voice muted. "I might know a guy who can help."
She deadpanned. "You know someone who's going to have a bucketload of flowers for me at a moment's notice?"
"Maybe." He was already scrolling through his contacts. He hit one and held the phone up to his ear. "What color do you need? Roses?"
"Dark red. Almost wine-colored. And lily of the valley. Or baby's breath. Something small and white."
He reached out and ran one finger along the back of her hand. The light touched tickled, a welcome sensation. He gently turned her hand over in his, his thumb sweeping across her palm.
She didn't want to react, but she couldn't stop the goosebumps that spread up her arm. His gentle touch created waves of warmth under her skin, not like the fire that licked her joints from the RA.
"Yeah. It's Wilder Caine." He spoke into his phone as he gently threaded his fingers through Quinn's. "Good. How you doin'?"
He laughed at something the person on the other end of the line said. "Yeah, look my brother's getting married tomorrow and the other florist…" He laughed again. "Yeah, he definitely should've called you first." He listened for a long minute. "You're a lifesaver, Enrique. I'm in a little town called Sawyer Creek, about two hours out. I'll be there by nine."
He disconnected the call. "Enrique was a customer of mine. I might've saved his hide when his daughter was moving into her college dorm a few months ago. He said we could take our pick of the stock he has on hand, and we can have it at cost."
"Really?" Quinn's still-spinning thoughts stopped, and she couldn’t stop the one thought that replaced them all. Wilder was amazing.
"Yep." His face shone with pleasure. "Only problem is, I've got to drive to Austin to get them. I figure I can be back by midnight."
"You mean we can be back by midnight?"
Concern shadowed his eyes as he looked down at her. "I don't know for sure, but I'm guessing you’re not feeling great and need a good night's sleep."
He'd somehow figured it out. Not the RA specifically, but that something was going on.
And he was right. A full night of sleep would go a long way to easing her symptoms, especially with all she'd need to do tomorrow. But— "I need to make sure the color is right."
"You can send a photo of what you want to my phone."
She knew he could probably handle it, but she was the maid of honor. She wanted to make sure everything was perfect for Claire's big day.
"Unless you wanna tell me I'm wrong about you being sick." He leveled a knowing look at her.
She couldn't, not without lying. He was on to her. She hated being this vulnerable. "I have a medical condition. It's called RA—short for rheumatoid arthritis."
His brow crinkled. "Isn't that for older people?"
A flush rose in her face. This exact reaction was why she didn't share about her condition with others. "It can be. It's an auto-immune disorder, so—"
"So your body is fighting against itself."
There was no pity in his expression. He took her shoulders in his big hands and pulled her close. She knew she shouldn't, but she let her head fall against his chest. His hands moved to the nape of her neck, gently massaging.
It felt heavenly. Not that his fingers could do much for the piercing joint pain, but the gentle touch against her muscles was both relaxing and comforting.
Andrew had always thought she was faking her pain. Because RA was a hidden disease, he'd tell her to take a pain pill, or, if he was really fed up, to suck it up and get over it. She'd eventually gotten to the point that she’d stopped telling him when she was having a flare up. And he'd stopped noticing.
Wilder had noticed without even knowing she had a condition.
He leaned his chin against her temple. "Why don't you stay here and rest? Tomorrow's going to be a busy day."
More so, now that they were going to have to make flower arrangements by hand. She wouldn’t be able to sleep unless she knew the flowers were perfect. Claire was her best friend. She deserved perfect.
"I have to go," she mumbled into his shirt. Darn, he smelled so good.
He leaned slightly back, his hands still warm on her shoulders. "I'll make you a deal. You go, but you promise to nap while I'm driving."
Hot tears pricked at her eyes, and a lump formed at the back of her throat. What a silly, foolish reaction. She swallowed the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her and nodded.
Chapter 4
Quinn had thought she wouldn't be able to sleep on the drive to Austin, but Wilder had turned on a country station, volume low, and she'd drifted off with her head against the passenger window of his pickup. Next thing she knew, he was gently shaking her awake in the parking lot of his business, Caine Moving Co.
An hour later, they'd loaded and secured several five-gallon buckets of long-stemmed roses and assorted filler flowers in the back of one of his trucks. Thankfully, Enrique had also provided all the other supplies they'd need, like ribbon, long stick pins, and floral foam shapes for the more elaborate decorations.
Someone Borrowed: sweet contemporary romance (Jilted in Sawyer Creek Book 3) Page 3
