One Hot Summer

by Melissa Cutler

  The woman he loves? “We won’t let him coerce us. He’s not that powerful.”

  Micah gave her a grim smile. “Is that your trust fund cushion talking right now?”

  Maybe it was. But Remedy refused to go down in flames in her chosen profession again, no matter how much money she had in the bank. “Micah…”

  He held up his hands. “Wait, please. I don’t think it’s the right time for us to talk, we’re both so pissed off and emotional.”

  She’d never been so relieved at a suggestion before. “You’re right.”

  “Good, okay. You’re not going to say anything more, and I’m not going to say anything, either. And we’re each going to walk away and get some air and calm down. Separately. And then we’ll talk tomorrow.” She could hear the leashed fury in his tone and could well imagine the effort it was taking him to keep his cool.

  Another round of angry tears threatened. “Yes. Agreed.”

  “I’d better get back down there. It’s going to be a long night of paperwork and cleanup.” Then he was gone, walking back toward the resort the same way Ty had gone, disappearing into the smoky darkness.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Remedy never left the hotel that night after the fire. She’d tried to rest her head on the desk in her office for a while but gave up the effort as useless and instead passed the hours by scribbling ideas and notes for upcoming weddings on a notepad, but it was tough to feel creative given all that had transpired. In the end, she crumbled up the pages of notes she’d written and threw them away.

  By sunrise, her mind was churning faster than ever but not getting anywhere productive. Restless and needing a change of scenery, she grabbed a coffee from the hotel kitchen, then wandered throughout the resort and grounds without knowing where she was headed. Her job, her reputation, her parents’ reputation. Micah’s job, the safety of Ravel County, her relationship with Micah, if he didn’t break up with her over this—it was all so fragile, as though she were juggling eggshells.

  It wasn’t until she stopped in front of the fountain in the lobby that she knew her next move.

  Brides by Carina, Carina Briscoe Decker’s bridal boutique, opened into the lobby next to the men’s formal-wear rental shop. A glass wall adjacent to the boutique’s storefront offered resort visitors a view of Carina’s workshop and a taste of her process for creating exquisitely crafted couture wedding gowns. Today, the glass wall revealed the workshop to be empty of people, though several partially constructed dresses adorned headless mannequins and a piece of fabric rested beneath the needle of a sewing machine, as though she’d walked away in mid-stitch.

  Carina wasn’t on the boutique’s storefront side, either, but when Remedy approached the sales counter she caught a glimpse of Carina tucked in a cluttered storage room, perched on a stool while straddling a dress-clad mannequin.

  Remedy knocked on the counter as though it were a door. “Carina?”

  Carina didn’t seem to hear her but continued to embroider a flower with white thread onto the dress’s bodice. Maybe this wasn’t the best time. Or the best idea. Maybe Ty had already filled his daughter in on Remedy’s wedding-planning defects and Carina would pounce on the opportunity to defend her father’s actions.

  But that was silly. Carina had been nothing but kind to Remedy, and if anyone could help Remedy figure out how to appease all the warring parties tugging at her for allegiance it would be Carina. After all, one didn’t achieve patron saint status by accident.

  Remedy walked around the counter and knocked on the wall next to the storage room door, harder this time. “Excuse me, Carina?”

  Carina’s fingers froze, a needle in one hand. She glanced at Remedy. “Remedy? Hello. I hope you haven’t been standing there long. I get so absorbed when I embroider. It’s like a free stitch meditation.”

  Remedy would have to take her word for that. “Would you mind if I came in?”

  Carina moved a bin of threads off the stool to her right and patted it. “I told you when we met that my door’s always open, and so it is. Come on in.”

  Remedy took a seat, her eyes on the gown that Carina had been working on. Delicate white-and-gold embroidery swirled through the bodice and skirt. “This dress is exquisite.”

  “Thank you. I’m definitely partial to it.”

  “What are you doing working back here and not in your workshop?”

  Carina offered a disarming smile. “Yeah, about that. I thought my mom’s idea of building a window into my workshop was genius, like free advertising. I honestly didn’t think I’d notice or care about random resort guests watching me work because I get so focused on my projects, as you saw just a moment ago.”

  “I take it that turned out not to be the case?”

  “Uh, no. When I go in that workshop, it’s like there’s a force field around it keeping my muse from entering with me. I can’t accomplish a single creative thing when I’m in there. Even when no one’s got their faces pressed up against the glass, I still feel like a zoo animal.”

  Made sense to Remedy. “I think I’d be the same way.” She doubted she’d be nearly as effective at her job if the resort added a window through which guests could watch her. “We’re event planners. We prefer to work behind the scenes. We don’t want to be the scenes.”

  “Amen to that.”

  And there was Remedy’s opening. “Speaking of event planning, I could use some advice on dealing with your father.”

  Carina’s chuckle was filled with affection and warmth. “He’s not the easiest person to work for, is he?”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “He gets into this zone I call bulldozer mode where he plows over everything and everyone in his path,” Carina said.

  That was the perfect description of the man.

  Carina cringed. “I can tell by your expression that you’ve experienced bulldozer mode for yourself. I’m so sorry. You did the right thing coming to me. Tell me what’s going on and we’ll see what we can do to fix it.”

  Carina’s eagerness to help and her deprecating humor about her father had already helped set Remedy’s mind at ease. Drawing a fortifying breath, she plunged into a retelling of the WestWynd situation and the stalemate between Ty and Micah, with Remedy caught in the middle.

  Carina listened without interrupting, then said, “I always felt that Micah and my dad didn’t get along because they were too much alike.”

  Yeah, no. “You think so?”

  “I do. They’re turf defenders. It’s as if they each had this big cosmic stick that they each drew a circle with, then put everything and everyone they care about inside it. And now they pace around the outside of the circle like a guard, ready and willing to fight to the death to defend it all. It’s sweet, really.”

  “You’re right. They’re a lot alike. But it’s only sweet when the rest of us aren’t caught in the middle,” Remedy said. “How do I appease both of them, as well as the bride and groom? And in four weeks. It’s feeling impossible right now.”

  “I’ve been there, and am I going to share with you what I learned the hard way as a wedding planner. You have something that neither my father nor Micah nor the bride and groom have. Artistry. You’re not a project manager or a vender coordinator; you’re the artist, the mastermind. Don’t give them what they think they want. Distill that down to what they’re really trying to tell you. In this case, my father and the wedding party both want spectacle and grandeur and Micah wants safety. That’s totally doable.”

  At Carina’s words, a lightbulb went off in Remedy’s head. “Oh my God, you’re right. I could explain how their idea is pedestrian. Fireworks at a wedding happen all the time. They’re nothing special.”

  “Exactly,” Carina said. “Open their eyes to artistic possibilities that are beyond what any of them could imagine in their nonartist minds. Give them something beyond their wildest imagination. Being a wedding planner can so often feel like you’re powerless, that you’re nothing but a well-paid servan
t. But neither my father nor the bride and groom hired you because you’re good at doing others’ bidding. They’re paying you to take control. So take control.”

  * * *

  Remedy was too restless to be contained in her stuffy cottage. Though hundreds of disparate ideas and Carina’s advice rambled through her mind, none of those work thoughts compared to the dread and anxiety she felt about making things right with Micah. So much so that she found herself slipping into her shoes and heading down the stairs from her back deck into the woods, headed to the place where it all began for them.

  She walked along the same shady path she’d taken the day Chet and Dusty had crashed through the creek after their runaway cooler, then followed the winding trail upstream, zigzagging close to the road, then down to the water’s edge, all the way to where the creek met the river. After slipping off her shoes, she stood where Micah’s chair had been planted in the sand that first day they’d met, where he’d sat on his throne looking like he was the redneck king of Texas.

  She kicked the water, then again, splashing her frustration out. When she’d flown into Texas as a bright-eyed city girl, she’d had a plan. She’d known exactly what she wanted with her career and her life. She’d known what she didn’t want—to get stuck in Texas. So then, when had getting stuck in Texas started to sound so right? How had everything gotten so complicated?

  The most worthwhile things in life are complicated.

  Carina had told Remedy not to give her clients what they thought they wanted but something beyond their imaginations. But the joke was on Remedy, because that was exactly what had happened to her in her life. What she and Micah had together was beyond anything in Remedy’s wildest dreams, and the affection she felt for the sweet, quirky town of Dulcet and its citizens was something she could have never predicted, not in a million years. Instead of excitement that a little slice of home was coming to visit her, her instincts were shouting at her to protect this rural haven from Hollywood’s toxicity.

  Closing her eyes, suddenly weary, she lowered herself into the water and sat, relishing the bite of cold that seeped through her dry-clean-only skirt suit. She stretched her legs out and watched the mottled pattern of shade and sun through the water on her skin.

  A sound of wings against air had her peeling her eyes open again. A dozen or more of Skeeter’s homing pigeons had landed a few feet away. All eyes were on her.

  “Hey, guys. What’s your deal, huh? Why are you stalking me like this? I’m sure Skeeter misses you.”

  One of the birds got brave and skittered closer to her hand. Remedy held perfectly still and held her breath. The bird climbed onto the back of her hand. “So we’re buddies now?” she said under her breath.

  The bird cocked his head and blinked.

  Buddies, then. Though these wild friends had very little in common with her wild friends back in Los Angeles.

  She maintained her frozen state until the bird thought better about being so close to her and skittered off to rejoin his pigeon pals. Content, Remedy sank into her arms, tipped her head up, closed her eyes, and let the tinkling sound of the water, the rustle of leaves above her, soothe her frayed nerves. As her peace expanded, she started to notice other, less obvious sensory delights, the tickle of the water between her toes, the musty smell of forest dampness, the sound of insects, and the cooing of the pigeons.

  She might be in Texas, but the Frio River felt exotic and tropical. She let the details soak into her imagination. Maybe someday she could use this place as inspiration for a tropical wedding. The southeast end of the resort’s golf course was bordered by a lake that included mangroves, which made Remedy think of the Amazon River and damp, dense jungles. She could hang LED lanterns in the trees and string lights overhead. On the golf course there would be plenty of room for a tent and a band and a—

  “Cambelle’s wedding.”

  Remedy’s laughter echoed off the trees. Just like that, she knew how to fix the wedding from hell. Carina had been right. This was what they paid Remedy the big bucks for. This was going to be a wedding for the ages. She lay back again and got to work dreaming up the details of her plan.

  She wasn’t entirely sure how long she’d been lying on the riverbank when she heard footfalls crunching over sand. She boosted herself up on her elbow and cocked her head toward the tree line. Micah.

  He seemed leery of approaching her, so she smiled, a peace offering. “Hi.”

  “Hi. I didn’t know this was where I was going until I ended up here,” he said.

  She swirled her foot through the water. “Story of my life. One blind turn after another, living by feel. Which is how I ended up sitting in the river with all my clothes on.”

  His long shadow stretched across the sand to her as he walked her way. “I figured you’d fallen in.”

  “One might think that, given my track record.”

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “I was hoping you would,” she said.

  He kicked his boots off, then shoved his jeans to the ground and stepped out of them. His shirt was next. Dressed in his boxer briefs, he walked to her and stood in the water.

  At the sudden shock of cold water, goose bumps sprouted on his legs. She couldn’t resist smoothing her hand over his thigh, tracing the muscles below his hairy, tanned skin. He sat next to her, inhaling sharply when his hips sank into the water.

  He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to talk about what had happened that afternoon and neither was she, but she couldn’t go a moment longer without knowing where they stood as a couple.

  She flexed her fingers, then reached her hand across the inches that separated their bodies. Had she ever felt so vulnerable as she was right now, reaching for the man she cared about, wanting him to care enough about her that he was willing to keep trying? As the backs of her fingers brushed the side of his hand and he flinched, she closed her eyes. Please, Micah.

  Then his hand covered hers and held it tight. He threaded their fingers, locking their hands together.

  “Micah, I’m sorry I—”

  “You can stop right there.” Releasing her hand, he roped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “How am I going to be the noble one who apologizes first if you beat me to it?”

  Relief washed through her. Everything was going to be all right. “That is a conundrum.”

  She wiggled closer, until her cheek rested on his shoulder. He planted a lingering kiss to her hair. She closed her eyes and concentrated on just being, still and peaceful next to her man on a quiet riverbank. The very spot at which they’d first met.

  “Loving you is turning out to be a wild ride, California.”

  A confusing, overwhelming ache intensified within her. They were the sweetest words she’d ever heard, but she had no idea what to do with them. Could this really be love? Was she seriously considering giving up on her dream of returning to California because of a gun-carrying, toothpick-chewing, Alpha Bubba good ol’ boy? If only Micah were as simple as he’d appeared from the outset, her answer would be easy. But Micah was so much more. He was smart, funny, generous, and kind. And he was so good to her, good for her.

  Rather than try to pick the right words from the storm of them whirling through her head, she cupped his cheek and showered his stubbled jaw with kisses. There was nothing saying she had to return to Los Angeles anytime soon. She could wait until she was good and ready, and the longer she waited the more time her reputation in the industry would have to recover.

  “Does this mean your offer for me to meet your family this weekend still stands?”

  “Of course it does. And speaking of family, I got to thinking on my way here about a lot of things,” he said. “About you, and your parents, and about your family friends who are getting married that Ty Briscoe is salivating over.”

  She had no idea where he was going with this, but unease slid up her spine. “Okay.”

  “I’m not sure how polite this question is, but I think you and I are past politeness
now.”

  “Agreed,” she said.

  “Okay, here’s the question. Exactly how loaded are you?”

  Remedy’s breath stuttered out of her on a laugh, the question was so random. “What?”

  “Money. How much money do you have at your disposal? Because despite every indication that you have enough to buy the whole town of Dulcet and turn it into your own personal amusement park, you haven’t bothered installing an air-conditioning unit that works worth a damn and you’re working a crappy job that basically forces you into servitude for a bunch of entitled rich jerks, and with an asshole boss. It doesn’t add up.”

  Ah. They were back to the same old question again. “You’re still wondering what I’m doing in Texas.”

  “I am.”

  “You’ve been asking me that same question off and on since the day we met.”

  “I haven’t gotten an answer that makes sense yet,” he said. “Most people have jobs because they have to. Until you mentioned a trust fund, I figured you worked because you need the money, just like the rest of us. But now, after hearing the way Ty talked down to you and the way that idiot bride and her mother talked down to you, I wonder why you take that crap. You have a trust fund. So I’m back to square one, asking that same question. What are you doing here, with this job?”

  She heard the unspoken follow-up question in his words plain enough. How long are you planning to stay? That’s what he was getting at, and damn it all if she didn’t have an answer for him.

  “My parents set up a trust fund for me when I was born, to be bequeathed to me when I was twenty-five.”

  “And you’re twenty-nine now. So how much money are we talking about?”

  Disclosing money specifics was an uncomfortable conversation for her that invariably called into question her motives for talking about what she was worth, as well as the motives of the person asking. But Micah loved her and, just as surely, she was falling in love with him. He didn’t care about her wealth and so she shouldn’t mind sharing this other part—this constant beating heart of the family she’d been born into—with him.