A Match for Morgan

by Marie Ferrarella

  No, the second moment, she amended mentally, being honest with herself. The first moment she’d seen him, standing so tall with a snowdrift behind him, she’d actually experienced what could only be termed an insane, girlish infatuation. But she’d been just shy of five at the time and couldn’t be faulted for having a lapse in judgment. The flying snowballs that followed, crashing into her face as Wyatt laughed at catching her offguard had quickly squelched those tender, misguided feelings. Tender feelings that were destined to become even more misguided a decade and a half later.

  She’d tried to get even that winter, but couldn’t. Not then. He’d had a better arm than hers, but she’d practiced all year, using rocks for snowballs and tin cans as her target. She’d gotten him good the following winter.

  And he’d gotten her good that summer, five years ago, a small voice seemed to whisper in her head. The thought irritated Morgan, like nettles being drawn across a tender palm.

  “Hello, Wyatt, I could say the same to you.” Her smile never faltered. “What’s the matter, Hawaii decide to clear out the undesirables from their shores?”

  “Morgan,” Zoe chided sharply.

  “Sorry, just being curious,” Morgan murmured.

  Wyatt smiled indulgently at Morgan, making her feel suddenly very feline. “That’s all right, Mrs. Cutler. Let her have her fun. Like she said, she has very little of it.” He leaned over and in a stage whisper added, “Maybe if you polished up your manners, that wouldn’t be true.”

  Morgan struggled not to shiver as his breath zipped along her flesh. Something hot and demanding tightened within her. She glared as she watched Wyatt open the refrigerator and help himself to a soda, as if he belonged here. He didn’t. He belonged somewhere far away. Somewhere where the sight of him couldn’t remind her what an idiot she’d once been.

  She looked at him, wishing he’d gotten ugly. Or at least plain. Why did the man have to get better looking with time? Why couldn’t he be developing a spare tire, or going to seed? Why did he have to look so much like…like Wyatt?

  Restless, she took a napkin out of the holder in the center of the table and toyed with it. “I hear Hank’s decided to pay me back for past transgressions by putting us both in the wedding party.”

  Wyatt turned from the refrigerator, his dark eyes sweeping over her. It had been a little more than two years since he’d last seen her. Was it his imagination, or was she sexier looking than he remembered? Didn’t seem fair in his opinion, to package something that was so fiery to look like sweet candy.

  His eyes shifted to Hank before looking at Morgan again. “I hear the same thing. Personally, I’m looking at it as penance.” He took a long drag of the soda, looking at her over the can. “You do something different with your hair?”

  Morgan raised her chin, waiting for the punch line. “No.”

  He shrugged. “Pity.”

  Morgan knew he was just trying to provoke her. “A word that you are on the receiving end of a great deal, I’d imagine. Speaking of the wedding, I hope you don’t intend to embarrass Hank.” She rose, crossing to the refrigerator herself. She elbowed Wyatt out of the way. Was that a new cologne he was wearing? Morgan took out a can of soda for herself. “Try to remember not to drag your knuckles on the floor when you walk down the aisle with whatever poor unfortunate bridesmaid winds up being paired off with you.” The can fizzed as she popped the top.

  Wyatt raised an inquisitive brow as he caught Hank’s eye.

  He had to tell her, Hank thought. It was only right. Besides, if he waited until it became evident to her at the wedding rehearsal, she’d probably kill him, witnesses or no witnesses.

  Hank took a deep breath. “Morg.”

  Sitting down again, Morgan stiffened. She knew that tone. It was the one Hank used when he was about to tell her something he knew she wasn’t going to like hearing. Oh please don’t let it be what I think it is.

  Morgan gave Hank the most intimidating look she could summon. “Hank, you’d better just be clearing your throat.”

  Zoe came to her son’s rescue. This was going to take more finesse than Hank had at his disposal.

  “Morgan, Fiona was kind enough to include your brothers’ fiancées in the wedding party.” Morgan looked at her mother. She already knew that. And then came the information she didn’t want. “There’ll be Quint with Ginny, Kent with Brianne—she’s flying in from New York—and because Fiona’s sister is matron of honor, Denise is going to be paired off with Bridgette’s husband, Peter.”

  That just left her and…

  Morgan looked from her mother to Hank and saw the guilty look. Oh, God, this really was going to be penance, wasn’t it?

  She took hold of Hank’s arm, pinning him in place in case he thought of bolting. “Why can’t I be paired off with Bridgette’s husband?”

  The reason was a very basic one. “Because in high heels you’ll be taller than he is, and he’s sensitive about his height.”

  What about her sensitivity? she wanted to demand. But she knew that Wyatt would be convulsed at the mere mention that she was sensitive. She wasn’t about to add to his entertainment.

  “I’ll walk barefoot,” she offered, knowing it was futile.

  “You’ll walk with Wyatt,” Jake said firmly, then his tone softened. “It’s just for an evening,” he reminded her.

  There was no way out of this. If she said no, she’d be the one causing the schism in the family, not Wyatt, damn him. She had to agree.

  “The longest damn evening of my life,” she told Hank grudgingly.

  Wyatt couldn’t resist. Hands on the back of her chair, he leaned over and whispered, “Only if you’re lucky,” close to her ear.

  As smooth as a cat, she stood up. Still leaning on the chair, Wyatt nearly fell backward when she took her anchoring weight from it. He regained his balance at the last moment.

  Hank shut his eyes and moaned. “I’m beginning to think I should have eloped.”

  “Don’t even joke about it,” Zoe warned.

  Morgan whirled around to face Hank. She grabbed his arm, pretending to pull him toward the front door. “I’ll drive you to the airport.”

  “Morgan.” Zoe’s soft features were drawn into a warning frown.

  Morgan dropped Hank’s arm. “It’s his day, he should have it the way he wants,” she said innocently.

  “Exactly.” The no-nonsense look on Zoe’s face intensified.

  Morgan sighed. Having to pair off with Wyatt was going to really put a definite damper on the festivities, but she was going to have to be equal to it.

  “Not to worry, Mrs. Cutler,” Wyatt volunteered easily, eyeing Morgan. “I’ll keep her in line.”

  Wyatt knew that he was giving himself a lot of credit. He’d probably have an easier time keeping a wildcat in line, but he liked the fire that came into her eyes whenever she was angry. Too bad they kept finding themselves on opposite sides so often. Otherwise…

  But there was no otherwise, and maybe it was better that way. For all of them.

  Morgan turned on him, hands on hips. Keep her in line? The gall, the unmitigated gall. “You and what army?”

  God help him but there was something appealing about Morgan whenever she got angry like this, Wyatt thought. He figured there had to be a little insanity in everyone for him to feel that way about someone who’d just as soon see him drawn and quartered than draw another breath.

  “That’ll be decided when the time comes,” he told her.

  Zoe changed the subject. “Stay for dinner, Wyatt?”

  Wyatt’s smile was genial. Morgan’s mother cooked better than anyone he knew, even the woman his parents had hired. “Don’t mind if I do, Mrs. Cutler.”

  When Morgan crossed to the doorway, motorcycle helmet in hand, Zoe looked at her daughter accusingly. “Where are you going?”

  “Home.” In her present frame of mind, Morgan knew it was better for everyone all around if she left now before she said something she would really regre
t. Not that she would regret it, Morgan • amended, but Hank and her parents might. She never said anything to Wyatt that was unjustified and unmerited. “It’s a long ride back.”

  “I thought you said you were staying for dinner,” Jake said. The look on her father’s face asked her to stay.

  She really didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to be driven out of the place she would always think of as home no matter where she went, but she knew if she stayed, she would risk losing her temper.

  Morgan shook her head. “Change of plans.”

  She looked directly at Wyatt. “Besides, I do have a lot of paperwork to catch up on if I’m going to take part of Friday off.”

  Wyatt surprised her by blocking her exit, one hand on each side of the doorjamb. Morgan raised her chin. “I’ll walk right over you if you don’t get out of my way,” she warned.

  She would, too, he thought. “I don’t want to drive you away from your mother’s table, Morgan. I can eat here some other time.”

  Morgan’s eyes narrowed. Oh, no, he wasn’t going to be the good guy here. They liked him too much already.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Wyatt. If I wanted to eat here, I would. You don’t affect anything I do, one way or the other.” It was a lie, but a necessary one. “But it’s a long ride back to Butte, and I should get started.” Turning, she backtracked to kiss her father’s cheek. “I’d see about putting a new lock on the doors if I were you, Dad. You really don’t want to leave yourself open to having Hawaii’s undesirables drift in and out.”

  “At least let me get you something to take home.” Zoe began to pull open the refrigerator door.

  But Morgan stopped her. “I am taking something home, Ma. It’s called indigestion.”

  And then Morgan saw the look on Hank’s face. Despite his teasing words, he was worried. Her mother was right, he had enough on his mind without her adding to it. It was bad enough that she was upset by this turn of events. There was no point in adding to Hank’s anxiety. He wanted Wyatt in his wedding, and he should have things the way he wanted. Even if it killed her.

  Morgan patted Hank’s cheek affectionately on her way out.

  “Don’t worry, big brother. I won’t be the one who spoils your day.” She glanced over her shoulder, her last remark aimed at Wyatt, who’d retreated out of her way. “You might think about throwing yourself on your sword before next Sunday. It’d be the first honorable thing you’ve ever done.” Her complacent smile encompassed the other three people in the room. “’Bye, family.”

  Wyatt merely grinned as he heard the front door open and then close again. “Nice to know you can still depend on some things staying the same,” he murmured under his breath.

  Zoe heard him and smiled to herself. Maybe it would be just a matter of time. After all, there were three more weddings after Hank’s.

  2

  “I guess this isn’t supposed to be an actual dress rehearsal, is it? Or is that what you’re planning to wear to the wedding?” Wyatt’s green eyes swept over Morgan as she hurried up the church steps.

  Just her luck, Morgan thought. He would be standing on the church steps just as she roared into the parking lot on her motorcycle. By the look of the cars that were already in the lot, everyone else had gotten here ahead of her.

  It figured.

  Morgan’d barely had time to remove her helmet and hadn’t waited to catch her breath as she took the steps two at a time to the front of the church. As was happening more and more frequently in her life, the morning hadn’t been long enough. She’d been far from finished with her caseload when she’d finally all but shot out of the third-floor office.

  Though she was in a hurry, there was still a case lingering on her mind all the way from Butte to Serendipity. Try as she might, she couldn’t get a small boy’s tear-streaked, trusting face out of her mind. Josh Miller, all of four and suddenly all alone in the world. She and Josh had built a relationship since she’d been the social worker assigned to his case. Working diligently over the past six months, she’d finally placed him with a foster family, Ann and Ray Johnson, two very nice people she could personally vouch for.

  But even as she left him in their care early this morning, he’d clung to her. He’d been so afraid to start all over again.

  “Stay with me, Morgan,” he’d pleaded. She had literally felt her heart being pulled toward him.

  The very last thing she was in the mood for right now was some of Wyatt’s so-called levity. But that didn’t seem to stop him as he kept staring at her. “Not that you don’t look good in leather in a girlrebel sort of way.…”

  Morgan glared at him as she moved past him to yank open one of the doors leading into the church.

  She tossed her head, trying to get some of the body back into her hair without being too obvious. A motorcycle suited her needs far better than a car, but as with everything, there was a price to pay. In this case, it was flattened hair.

  And then she stopped in mid-motion, helmet tucked under one arm, and turned around to look at him. Had he just said what she thought he did?

  “Did something happen to my hearing on the way over here, or did you just give me a halfchewed-up compliment?”

  He followed her inside, letting the door close behind him. “Take them any way you can get ‘em, Cutler. A lady with your sweet disposition isn’t in line to get too many compliments.”

  Late or not, she paused long enough to look up at him and bat her lashes. “I have a very sweet disposition—when I’m around human beings.”

  “Okay, that’s enough. End of round two,” Will announced coming out of the inner church. “Match called off on account of rain.”

  Laughing, Morgan turned toward her oldest brother. The eternally unflappable Will looked just a wee bit frayed around the edges. Was that because he was vicariously experiencing what his own prewedding tension would be like all too soon? Probably, she mused.

  “They don’t call off boxing matches if it rains, Will.”

  Morgan’s correction left Will unfazed. He’d long since learned to turn a deaf ear to over half the things his sister said. If she took it into her head, Morgan would have argued with a stone.

  “They do when I’m refereeing.” Will’s expression sobered, looking from Wyatt to Morgan. “Hank is nervous enough without having to hear you two go at it in the wings.”

  Wyatt thought of his own far-from-perfect union. Any way he looked at it, his marriage had been just two inches short of a total fiasco, even in the very beginning. Hard thing to admit for a man who’d once secretly had great hopes.

  He shrugged philosophically. “Might give him a preview of what married life is like.”

  Morgan took umbrage for Fiona at Wyatt’s comment. There was no comparison between Judith and her almost-sister-in-law.

  “What your married life was like,” she said tersely. “Fiona isn’t anything like your ex-pompom girl. She’s perfect for him.”

  If asked now, Wyatt wouldn’t have been able to explain exactly what had attracted him to Judith in the first place. Granted, she’d been sexy as hell, but he’d always thought of himself as intelligent enough to see past physical attributes. Something had blinded him that summer five years ago, rendering him temporarily insane. Then, when the consequences had materialized, he’d shouldered his responsibility and tried to make the best of it. The best had not been nearly good enough.

  Though he would never have admitted it to her, Morgan had been right on the money when she’d told him he was marrying a life-size fashion doll. One who’d wanted and expected him to buy her all the accessories. Judith could go through money like a man went through a morning shower— quickly and without a second thought. She’d almost bankrupted him before he’d called a halt to their marriage.

  The toll her spending had made on his finances was like adding insult to injury.

  “Is Hank bad?” Morgan asked Will, looking concerned.

  “Not to the casual observer,” Will responded. But Will wasn�
�t a casual observer. He knew his brothers and sister inside out. “But if you look closely, I think his grin is frozen in place.”

  Morgan bit her lower lip. “Maybe he’s just very happy.”

  Wyatt had another take on that. “Maybe he’s just catatonic.”

  What kind of a best friend was he, anyway? Morgan wondered. Wasn’t he supposed to be there, encouraging Hank instead of loitering on the front steps of the church, waiting until she arrived so he could heckle her?

  His guess had earned him a punch to the shoulder he wouldn’t have felt had he not been looking straight at Morgan when she delivered it. Laughing, Wyatt was quick to cover her fisted hand with his own, stopping Morgan in case she wanted to deliver a second blow. They didn’t have time for this.

  “I’ll go a few rounds with you after rehearsal, Rocky,” Wyatt promised. Hands against her back, he gave her a small push toward the door. “Right now, you’re late.”

  Morgan didn’t like having him point out any of her failings, however inconsequential. Anything that came from him she took as a criticism.

  After twenty-five years around Morgan, Will could read his sister like a book. Moving quickly, he stepped between them. “Everybody’s already inside, Morgan.” Will nodded toward the inner nave. “They’re just waiting for you to show up.”

  He didn’t have to add “as always”; she heard it in Will’s voice.

  “Traffic,” she muttered, striding into the church behind him and ahead of Wyatt. There was no point in elaborating about her day and Josh. She wasn’t about to explain things around Wyatt.

  Wyatt looked at the helmet she carried under her arm. She’d been tearing around on that motorcycle of hers ever since she’d turned eighteen. The woman brought new meaning to the phrase hellon-wheels. He could still remember the first time he saw her on it. She’d been proud enough to burst. She’d bought it with her own money, money she’d been saving for years. Purchased secondhand, the motorcycle was her pride and joy. She babied it and treated it more like a pet than a mode of transportation. He could almost envy it.