And though he'd been congenial and smiling, it hadn't quite reached his eyes. It hadn't been real.
Shelby had showed up during breakfast, which had been an obvious relief to him. He'd excused himself to talk to her, and Quinn had gone upstairs to check on Claire.
Claire had been locked in her room, the perfect picture of a blushing bride, not wanting to take any chances that Nicholas would see her before the wedding. Quinn had given her an update on the flower situation, kissed her cheek, and told her she'd be back in ninety minutes to help Claire start dressing.
Now Quinn's fingers cramped as she tucked two more roses into a block of floral foam. She'd commandeered the dining room as her workspace again after all the breakfast dishes had been cleared, and she and Mrs. Caine had been attacking the flower arrangements with a vengeance. Mrs. Caine carried the last of the centerpieces across the room, and Quinn stared critically at the garland she was finishing.
This was the piece-de-resistance. The flowers that would drape around the base of the gazebo. They would be in all the wedding photos, and it was critical that they be perfect. She'd imagined that the finished design would look like flowers weaving through the gazebo posts.
She sighed. Her arrangement wasn't quite perfect, but it would have to do.
Wilder, who'd been toting the already-finished pieces for her, ducked his head through the kitchen doorway and lifted a finger to tell her he’d be back in a minute.
Quinn raised the clump of flowers with its trailing greenery and lily of the valley and headed that way. She wanted to see the finished design. There were still a few minutes to make tweaks before it was time to go upstairs and be with Claire.
If Wilder walked out there with her... Well, earlier she might have hoped he'd sneak a kiss. But now, she'd settle for a chance to figure out what had wound him so tight with tension.
It had happened right after she'd confessed her terribly messed up childhood. She'd trusted Wilder with that information—and with her heart, if she were honest—and he'd immediately distanced himself from her. Coincidence?
She heard his voice before she reached the kitchen doorway.
A glance over her shoulder showed Mrs. Caine still fiddling with a vase of roses across the room. Who was he talking to? Should she interrupt? She had to walk through the kitchen to get outside, anyway.
But something held her immobile, just out of sight.
"Wilder, dear, I don't think I've seen you this happy in years." It sounded like his Aunt Ruby. He might've complained about her yesterday, but Quinn knew how much he valued his family.
"It's been a good year," was his casual reply. "Company's stable, and we don't lack for business."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it."
"You know being with you makes me happy, Auntie."
Quinn found herself smiling at his words.
"Oh, go on with you, you rascal," Ruby said. She had a smile in her voice, too. "It's that lovely Quinn. She's good for you."
There was a pause. Long enough for Quinn to hear her heartbeat accelerate as it thundered in her ears.
"Quinn and I—we're having a fun time, but it's nothing serious. When the weekend is over, we'll go our separate ways." His tone was nonchalant. His words practically throw-away.
Quinn shouldn't have been surprised. He'd made the terms of their agreement perfectly clear. He'd only promised not to leave her at Andrew's mercy for the weekend. He owed her nothing else.
It was her own fault that she'd allowed herself to believe his attention and kisses meant something deeper. She ran back through each interaction from the past twenty-four hours and realized he'd never given her an indication that he wanted something more.
It had all been her foolish, hopeful imagination.
Her growing affection had been entirely one-sided. And she couldn't even be angry with him. She was the one who'd misread everything.
The same way she always did.
She desperately wanted to run away, all the way back to Austin. To hide in her safe little apartment and never come out. She could live off of takeout and grocery delivery for a very long time.
This humiliation was worse than when she'd arrived at the B&B and seen Andrew. Infinitely worse.
Because—she almost didn’t want to admit it—she'd never felt this way about Andrew. Not even in the beginning.
Ridiculous as it was, she'd fallen in love with Wilder. And all he felt for her was pity.
But her circumstances hadn't changed since the start of the weekend. She'd promised Claire that she'd stand up beside her, and Quinn wouldn't break her promise, even though she felt broken inside.
She forced her feet to move, dragged herself through the kitchen door.
"Oh, hey." Wilder stepped toward her. "I was coming to get that for you."
She shrugged him off with a brittle smile. "This is the last one. I'm heading out to the gazebo to finish up." Backing out the screen door, she avoided looking at his face. She couldn't bear to.
As she stepped off the porch, the door swung opened and slapped shut again. He was following her.
She squeezed her eyes closed briefly and did her best to shake off the sadness that had gripped her by the throat.
He jogged several steps to catch up with her. "I'm no florist, but it looks great. I think Claire will be happy."
Quinn agreed as she strode down the aisle. The dark red roses against the white gazebo were striking. With the white runner to be laid out just before the processional, it was breathtaking.
The sky had cleared, leaving a clear blue expanse, and the morning sun was already drying the grass from the brief shower earlier.
A beautiful day for a wedding.
Quinn needed to focus on her friend. She was here for Claire, and if she allowed one thought for herself to slip through, she may very well dissolve into tears.
She placed the last boughs of greenery and roses, adjusted one bloom that had been knocked out of place, and stepped back to admire it in its entirety.
It was perfect.
She wasn't.
She became suddenly aware of the man beside her. He wasn't looking at the greenery. He was looking at her.
"Is everything okay?" he asked.
Why couldn't he be the same as every other man she'd ever known? Even her father had been oblivious to her emotions.
But not Wilder.
She couldn't bear for him to see her cry, so she shored up her smile, though she still couldn't manage a look at him. "Fine."
She would make it so, by sheer force of will.
One hour to the noose
Wilder's head pounded as he knocked on the door to the bride's bedroom suite. He was sweating through his undershirt and probably his white tuxedo shirt as well.
Five minutes ago, he'd gone to check on his brother because Mom hadn't seen Nick in a while.
Wilder had found the groom's dressing room completely empty, except for a note lying on the table. The note was addressed to Claire, and Wilder had a bad feeling.
"Come in," Claire called from behind the closed door.
He poked his head inside and spotted the bride in her dress that looked like a mountain of white frills. Quinn was there too, elegant and beautiful in a floor-length dress that matched the roses he'd been carting around all morning.
But she wouldn't look his way.
"Wilder," Claire said. "What's going on?"
He heard the note of uncertainty in her voice, mirroring the growing feeling in his chest." I was just in Nick's dressing room. And he left this."
He strode across the room, handed Claire the note, then retreated to the doorway.
Part of him wanted to hightail it out of there. Whatever was in that note wasn't going to be good. He could feel it in his bones.
And that bothersome pull to Quinn hadn't abated at all, even though he was pretty sure she'd overheard him tell Aunt Ruby that their weekend together was coming to an end.
She ignored him now, si
tting in the curve of the window seat, staring out the window. She hadn't looked at him when he'd followed her outside earlier, either.
He felt sick inside, knowing he'd hurt her.
Because...
Because. He had feelings for her.
Feelings he didn't want. Feelings he wasn't going to act on.
Crap. Why was this so hard?
He shifted his feet as Claire lowered the note. Her face was white, her eyes huge. "Is he in his room?"
Wilder worked to drag his thoughts from Quinn to Nick.
Too slow, because Claire demanded, "Is he?" She stepped toward him, her dress rustling.
It was enough to shake Wilder out of his distraction. "What?" He shook his head. "No. He's gone."
"Gone? Who, Nicholas? Where?" Quinn asked, a hard edge in her voice.
"I don't know." He met Quinn's gaze, but she quickly looked away.
Silence blanketed the room for a long moment. Wilder tried to stay focused on Claire, tried to think of where Nick might have gone, but his thoughts and his gaze kept returning to Quinn.
Finally, Claire spoke, her voice trembling. "Is he still on the property?"
"I don't know if he's still around," Wilder said. But guests were starting to arrive, and if the groom had ditched the bride, word would be all over town shortly.
"I'll find him." Quinn moved across the room with a whisper of satin. She reached into the open suitcase tucked in the corner of the room, pulled out a pair of flip flops, and slipped them onto her feet.
Claire wrung her hands. "Maybe Shelby knows something."
Wilder doubted Nick would've confided in their sister for any reason, but he felt somewhat responsible for the bride's distress. And that cursed magnetic pull was still urging him to stick with Quinn. "I'll go, too."
Quinn's gaze snapped to him, and he winced at the coldness in her eyes. "I think you've done enough."
"Quinn…"
She brushed past him into the hallway. He followed and closed the door behind him. Claire wouldn't want anyone else to see her, not right now.
Quinn was already storming down the hall.
His heart thumped, and he took off after her without thinking. What he was doing? He didn't want to take things further with her. Couldn't.
But he also didn't want her hurt. Not like this. "Quinn, wait."
She didn't stop as she held up the front hem of her dress and rushed down the stairs. He caught up to her and reached for her elbow to slow her, but she jerked away at his touch and kept going.
"Look," she said. "We agreed this"—she motioned between them—"would last through the wedding. Unless one of us finds Nicholas, the wedding isn't happening. So, let's just...call it even. No more pretending."
Her voice didn't waver on the words. Not once.
But for a fraction of a second at the bottom of the stairs, she braced herself and turned to him. Her expression was shuttered. From the first moment she'd arrived, he hadn't seen her so closed off.
And he was to blame. He'd done this to her.
"Thanks for everything," she said. But there was no Quinn smile. No emotion behind the words.
"Quinn..." He didn't know what to say. Everything he wanted to say was stuck in a lump behind his ribcage. His heart was threatening to beat out of his chest.
But he couldn't.
Her gaze dropped. "Why don't you see if your mom or Shelby knows where Nick is? I'll ask around and see if anyone in the parking lot saw him leave."
And then she was gone, taking his heart with her.
Time for the Wedding March
The gazebo was perfect. The flowers were beautiful. Guests filled the chairs, chatting happily with each other. But Nicholas was nowhere to be found, and now Claire had disappeared, too.
Without a bride and groom, what were they supposed to do?
Quinn had looked at every car in the parking area out front. Nick's car was not among them. None of the wedding guests she'd talked to had seen or heard from him, and she could only hope she'd come off as casual when she'd asked questions, so the entire guest list wouldn't be panicked.
She'd rushed back into the B&B to find Mrs. Caine in tears in the vestibule, Wilder trying to console her.
When she glanced at him, he shook his head tightly. He hadn't been able to locate Nick, either.
And where was Shelby?
Quinn moved through the dining room and kitchen to the back porch. She still wore her beautiful bridesmaid's gown—no ugly dresses for Claire—with her flip flops. What a dork.
No wonder...
She cut off that thought. She was worried about Claire. Had she heard from Nicholas? Gone to find him herself? She'd left her cell phone in her room. How was Quinn supposed to get in touch with her?
Maybe Claire's dad knew where she'd gone. Quinn really didn't want to walk out to the gathered crowd unless she absolutely had to, so she stayed on the edge of the porch and strained her eyes trying to see to the front row.
Wait… Claire's dad was supposed to walk her down the aisle. He should've been inside with Mrs. Caine, right?
Quinn saw a flash of deep red. Shelby stood at the edge of the assembled crowd. Was she yelling at someone? Quinn couldn't make out the words, but judging by the whispers and pointed fingers, she was making quite the scene. Even though she'd promised her family she wouldn't.
Quinn sensed someone come up beside her. When she turned, Andrew stood there, hands in his pockets.
Oh, she didn't have the emotional energy to deal with him right now. Or ever again.
"Hello, Andrew." She forced a polite greeting.
"Quinn. Do you have any idea why Claire turned this into a circus?"
She gritted her teeth. He really was a jerk. "It wasn't Claire. You don't happen to know where Nick is, do you?"
Andrew shook his head, but his eyes remained hard. "So what's the deal with you and Caine?"
"There's no deal." She looked back to the lawn to see Shelby stalking off, heading around the farmhouse toward the parking area. Should she go check on the girl or leave her to fend for herself?
"Somebody like Caine isn't going to be interested in you for long, you know," Andrew said.
Quinn was so tired of his insults, so worried about Claire, that her temper blew. She turned to face him. "I'm not sure why you think I'd value your opinion. We're not together, and I'm done caring what you think of me." He hadn't seen her true worth when they'd been together, and nothing she could do would change that, but his views would no longer define her.
He looked stunned at her outburst.
She was proud of herself for finally standing up to him. And she'd told the truth. There was no deal. Nothing between her and Wilder, just those toe-curling kisses and her wishing for something more.
After today, she'd go back to her real life, and everything would be fine. As soon as she learned how to function with a hole in her heart.
But at least one good thing had come out of the weekend—Wilder had taught her how to value herself. He had valued her from the start, even if all he felt was friendship.
From now on, she would hold her friends—and potential love interests—to a higher standard.
Because she did deserve love.
Even if Wilder couldn't give it to her.
Chapter 8
It was several hours before Wilder was free to look for Quinn. When both Nick and Claire had disappeared, Wilder and his mom had made an announcement to the guests, who'd gasped and immediately started tapping on their phones.
Quinn had kept herself hidden since then, though her car was still one of the few parked out front, so he knew she was somewhere on the property.
Wilder had shed his coat and tie hours ago. He'd rolled up the sleeves and unbuttoned the collar of his white dress shirt, which was still tucked into his tuxedo pants, but after the search for Nick, his wedding attire looked as if it'd seen much happier days. His black leather lace-up shoes were killing him, but he wasn't about to waste time cha
nging when all he could think about was talking to Quinn.
He was haunted by the vulnerability he'd seen in her eyes before she'd shut him out. When he'd distanced himself, he'd hurt her deeply.
He'd been telling himself that when he returned to Austin and forgot all about this weekend, he'd find some relief, but the closer it got to sunset, the more he dreaded leaving Sawyer Creek. If he left things broken with Quinn, he might regret it for the rest of his life.
Finally, he spotted her by the gazebo. She'd changed out of her dress and now wore a pair of perfectly worn, fitted jeans and a blue T-shirt that matched her eyes.
She removed the flowers she'd so carefully arranged this morning and placed the pieces in cardboard boxes she'd gotten from who knew where. It was a pity Claire hadn't had the chance to see all the decorations.
Either Quinn hadn't heard Wilder approach, or she was deliberately ignoring him.
"Need some help?" he asked.
"Nope." Her voice was cool, and she didn't look his direction.
For a long moment, he watched her graceful, efficient movements, and he simply wanted. Wanted to know her. Wanted to be known in return.
"Quinn." He cleared his throat. "Can we talk?"
She stepped further around the gazebo and reached for the next piece of greenery. "The weekend is over. I think we're done talking."
No. He didn't want it to be over, and that was the whole problem. "I want to see you when we get back to Austin."
She froze. It was only a momentary stillness, a second's pause before she continued boxing the flowers, but it was enough for him. She wasn't as stoic as she wanted him to think.
She spun on her heel to face him, fire in her eyes. "Why does your family think you're a womanizer?"
He flinched.
A look crossed her face that said she expected him to deny it. When he didn't answer, she went back to her task.
He'd deflected when she'd asked him before. Had been purposeful about keeping things between them at a surface level. But if this was his only chance...
Part of him wanted to chicken out, but most of him was stuck on the regret he'd feel if he let Quinn get away.
Someone Borrowed: sweet contemporary romance (Jilted in Sawyer Creek Book 3) Page 6
