Picture Perfect Wedding

by Fiona Lowe

  Are you scared of Luke?

  He frustrated her and he challenged her to think on her feet to stay one step ahead of him. His smile made her weak at the knees and his deep voice was like the woody smoothness of malt whiskey, complete with the same slow-burn fire that heated her from tip to toe. And the sex was beyond her wildest dreams, but no, he didn’t scare her.

  Her phone beeped with an incoming text and she ignored it, expecting it to be Connie because she hadn’t instantly replied to the previous one. Exactly how she was going to broach the subject of Connie getting married on the farm with Luke, she had no clue. The phone beeped again and she knew it would keep doing that until she’d read the text.

  I’m not sure I pressed the right buttons the first time so trying again... I’d love to buy you a meal, darling. It’s been too long. Call me soon. Dad xx

  The idea of talking to her father? Now that scared her.

  * * *

  Erin lay with her head resting on Luke’s chest, feeling and hearing his heart beating solidly and rhythmically under her ear. Maggie-May was whining on the other side of the door.

  Luke’s hand wound through her hair. “That dog of yours needs to go back to obedience school.”

  “She’s used to being inside with me, is all, and you being all macho about dogs staying outside isn’t helping.” She traced the delineation of his pectoral muscles, loving their shape and feel. “If she came in she’d sit quietly on the bed and this would be far more relaxing.”

  He shook his head. “She’d do her level best to get me out of your bed. You and that dog have codependency issues.”

  “Really? And are you ever seen anywhere without Mac?”

  He grinned. “That’s different. He’s a farm dog.”

  She elbowed him in the ribs. “He’s working really hard out on my deck at the moment. What’s he doing? Rounding up ants?”

  “He’s keeping the raccoons at bay.” He kissed her and then wrapped his arm around her. His enthusiasm for cuddling after sex surprised her. Not that she had loads of experience with men but every woman knew that when it was just about the sex—and this thing they had going on between them was purely about the sex—guys tended to avoid the snuggle. In fact she’d been expecting him to up and leave for the past ten minutes.

  He gave a contented sigh. “This bed is a hell of a lot more comfortable than the boat shed. I’d forgotten how bad that sofa bed is.”

  Without thinking she blurted out, “How many women have you had sex with there?”

  His gaze found hers. “You make two.”

  She felt her face betray her surprise.

  “You expected more?” He grinned as if she’d given him a compliment. “There’ve been plenty more only not in the boat shed. If you hadn’t put on that barely bikini, I would have made sure we were somewhere less utilitarian.”

  She’d loved the shed and the way the light streamed in through the cracks in the siding. It had danced across his bladed cheekbones and cast his body in sexy shadows. If she had the chance again, she’d photograph him there. “So Whitetail women expect more than a boat shed?”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t had sex with a woman from Whitetail since high school. Life is less complicated that way.”

  And there it was. Confirmation of what she understood to be happening, which in a way was a relief given they’d had sex before they’d had the talk and set out the ground rules. She was from out of town and only here for a short time so this fling suited them both. Even so, she found herself frowning. “But you live here now? Doesn’t your personal code of conduct make you lonely?”

  “No.”

  His eyes flashed and his vehement tone made her start. “Okay, then.”

  He rolled her over so she was under him. “That’s enough about me. What about you?”

  She laughed, not particularly wanting to admit her experience probably didn’t come even close to touching his. Nor did she want to tell him that work was more important to her than anything else because unlike her childhood, she was never going to risk having a zero bank balance. That sort of conversation didn’t belong here, especially given his confused tone when she’d told him what her tattoo stood for.

  Sinking her hands into his hair she said, “Recently, I’ve flirted a lot with Irishmen, Australians and Brits. There’s something about a man with an accent that makes me go weak at the knees every single time.”

  His wicked grin reappeared. “To be sure,” he said in a fair imitation of an Irish accent, “I’ll try and remember that, darlin’.”

  Her body leaped again, calling out for him and she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him down to her. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Then in an Irish lilt, he whispered in her ear gloriously indecent things he wanted to do to her and things he wanted her to do to him.

  This might just be sex but he was the most amazing and considerate lover she’d ever known, and she happily obliged.

  * * *

  Nicole pulled the car up outside the market and turned to Max who was sitting in the backseat. “I’ll just be a few minutes and—”

  “Aw, Mom,” Max whined. “Why do we have to stop?”

  “Because, I’m buying a coffee like I do every morning, only usually you’re already at camp.” She stomped on the flash of guilt that flared in her chest. Today was her and Max’s day off together and yet she didn’t want to give up her chance of seeing Tony.

  It was pathetic really but she’d come to look forward to their morning ritual of buying coffee. She was addicted to the buzz of receiving his hello smile, which made her feel as if it was a smile just for her despite the fact they were always surrounded by several other coffee addicts. They seemed to always stand across from each other in the casual circle of people as the daily conversations discussing town concerns took place. This informal group was where many of the formal agenda items for the town meetings were born.

  She was intimate with the feeling of being alone in a crowd but his smile always made her feel like the two of them existed separately from the group. She also knew she was imagining all of it and that this was a ridiculous schoolgirl crush which could go nowhere. However, knowing all of that wasn’t enough to stop her from stopping by each morning.

  Max unbuckled his seat belt. “I want a hot chocolate.”

  He was off and out of the car, running into the grocery store before she could open her mouth to reply.

  Grabbing her purse, she followed and by the time the automatic doors had opened for her, John was greeting her with, “Good morning, Nicole. I hear it’s a day of fun for you and Max. Coffee coming right up.”

  “Thanks, John.”

  As the hissing sound of steam blasting through milk filled the coffee-cart area, she glanced around looking for Max who had a tendency to run straight to the candy section of the store and stare at it longingly. She commenced walking.

  “Mom! I’m here!”

  She turned to see Max sitting high on Tony’s shoulders, his feet dangling against the fireman’s broad chest. He looked so happy, she had to blink.

  Tony winked at her, a wide smile on his face. “Apparently hot chocolate is on the menu.”

  She smiled weakly, her body totally confused as maternal love collided with the feelings she always got when she saw Tony. Today it was all gift-wrapped in guilt. “I guess that’s only fair given my coffee addiction.”

  His eyes, already so dark, seemed to deepen. “Neither of us can stand in judgment then.”

  The words wrapped around her making her pulse jump. This was why she came for coffee. This was why she couldn’t miss a morning.

  You need a twelve-step program.

  “One latte, one espresso and one hot chocolate,” John called out the combined order.

  Tony set Max down and
pulled out his wallet. “I’m paying for them, John.”

  A slight frown creased the grocer’s forehead and he gave Nicole a questioning glance before silently accepting Tony’s money. Leaving the fireman’s coffee on the counter, John picked up the hot chocolate and Nicole’s latte, and handed them directly to her. “You and Max enjoy your picnic. It will good for the both of you to spend some time together.”

  Mother guilt flared. “I spend a lot of time with him, John.”

  “It’s not a criticism, dear. You’re a great mom. You and Bradley were a wonderful team.”

  Tony silently reached around her, picked up his coffee and walked over to the sugar stand.

  No we weren’t a great team, John. But blurting that out in the middle of the coffee club wasn’t the time or place. She’d learned there was never a time or a place. Stepping back from the cart, she felt her frustration building at the way John inserted Bradley into many of their conversations. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the way he looked out for her and Max but just lately she was feeling increasingly stifled by her past.

  She joined Max, who was now standing next to Tony at the sugar stand busily telling him they were going to the lake for a cookout and a hike. Before she handed him the hot chocolate, she checked the temperature.

  “That sounds like fun, champ.” Tony stirred his coffee. “What are you going to cook?”

  Max gave him an incredulous look. “Brats of course.”

  Tony looked over Max’s head to Nicole as if her son was speaking a different language. “Brats?”

  “German sausages cooked in beer. They’re a Wisconsin state dish.” She could feel John’s eyes on them and the accompanying waves of disapproval. Something inside her snapped. “Tony, Max and I would love for you to join us if you have time.”

  Max jumped up and down, tugging on Tony’s arm. “Please, Tony. I’ve got a football, only Mom’s not very good at throwing it.”

  Nicole rolled her eyes. “Thanks a lot, buddy.”

  “It’s just the truth, Mom.”

  Sometimes she yearned for the simple concrete world of eight-year-olds rather than the complicated one of adulthood.

  A thoughtful expression crossed Tony’s face. “I have a few things on this morning but I could certainly join you by three. Is that too late?”

  Nicole had planned on making the cookout lunch but as she caught John straining to hear their conversation she decided to shift her day around to accommodate this change. “Three would be just fine. We’ll meet you at the fire house and go from there.” She grabbed Max’s hand, gave a curt nod to John and stalked out of the store.

  * * *

  “I think Max has got some mountain goat in him,” Tony said, watching the little boy jump from boulder to boulder with light-footed ease while he and Nicole carefully picked their way down from the cliff-top path, back toward the lake.

  Nicole laughed. “I know, right? He whines when we walk along the flat but whenever we hit rocks he’s off like a shot.”

  They’d been hiking for an hour and Tony couldn’t remember enjoying himself this much in a very long time. Nicole’s invitation to join her and Max had been a bolt from the blue, but as his nonna always said, there was no point arguing with the unexpected, especially good unexpected. He wanted to shout out to the world how great this all was.

  Going slowly and testing the waters with Nicole was driving him quietly around the bend but he knew rushing her would only backfire on him. Hell, he wasn’t even certain she was ready to move on from her grief but the signs were optimistically solid. First she’d told him her coffee routine and now the hike. Nothing ambiguous about either of those two things. Both meant she wanted to spend time with him and when he added to that how relaxed she was compared with the other times he’d met her, it was all good.

  The tension that usually surrounded her had vanished and their conversation ranged all over from music and books, to touching briefly on local politics, discussions about his job and, of course, the wedding business. All of it flowed easily, punctuated with laughter and numerous interruptions by Max and his contagious enthusiasm for the outing.

  Tony rested his hand on the granite before jumping down a boulder that was larger than the length of his stride. He offered his hand to steady Nicole’s jump. “Do you hike often?”

  She hesitated for a moment and then accepted his help, her hand sliding easily into his. “Not that often. During the summer I try and do an activity of Max’s choice with him once a week. It invariably requires negotiation.”

  “My sisters are experts at that with their kids. Let me guess. You suggested the hike instead of video games?”

  She jumped, landing awkwardly in front of him, her breasts brushing his chest and her scent raining down on him. Her startled gaze reminded him of a doe in headlights and all he wanted to do was pull her in closer, tell her she was safe and kiss her until she was leaning against him needing his support.

  “Mom! Tony! Hurry up!” Max’s voice floated up to them.

  “Sorry.” Nicole immediately dropped his hand and scrambled backward as if his touch was burning her. “Max chose the hike. He did it with his dad a couple of times.”

  Her eyes, which had sparkled for the past hour, now filled with shadows and the memorial presence of her husband. The dead solider had inserted himself firmly between them, reestablishing unspoken boundaries.

  “I can see why Max would want to repeat the fun things he did with him.” Why you’d want to. His gut burned from a mess of emotions, none of which he wanted to acknowledge.

  Jealous of a dead war hero? Not cool, man.

  They’d reached the point where the rugged cliff walk joined the flatter lake path and the edge of the picnic ground was visible in the distance. He could see Max lugging the tabletop grill onto the picnic table. “I think Max is hungry.”

  “I’m starving.” Nicole laughed, rubbing her belly.

  His gaze drifted to the healthy feminine roundness that her hiking shirt hinted at and he immediately imagined his mouth against her skin. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and he moved his gaze to her face. “It’s always good to work up an appetite.”

  Something flared in her eyes and then she dropped her gaze, her hands fluttering over her shorts as if she was brushing away invisible dirt. When she looked at him again, her expression was schooled into neutral. “Thanks for coming today, Tony. Max really likes you a lot and although I try and do guy things with him, like he told you, I suck at throwing a football.”

  Her words barreled into him, knocking him sideways as the reason he’d been invited along today glowed with crystal clarity. The invitation wasn’t so Nicole could spend more time with him. She didn’t need that because she was still in love with her dead husband. No, she’d invited him along because her fatherless son needed a male role model. A mentor.

  The sting of disappointment whipped along his veins. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Max. Hell, he loved kids and he really enjoyed spending time with the little guy, but that wasn’t all that he wanted.

  “No problem. He’s a good kid.” He hated the gruffness that snuck into his voice—the tone hinting at his feelings for her.

  She frowned. “I’m sorry, that sounded really rude. Of course I’m enjoying our friendship too.”

  Shit. She’d invoked the let’s be friends rule. The three words every guy feared and loathed the most because being put in the friend zone was like being benched before the play had even started. Any chance of getting into the game now was virtually nonexistent. She’d drawn the friend line into the sand of their relationship.

  He forced a smile. “I guess I better go do the guy thing then and help him grill.”

  “Oh dear.” Mock horror danced across her cheeks. “If that means charcoal-black, burned brats maybe I better cook.”


  Her dancing eyes and flirty tone—at such stark odds with what she’d said about being friends—hit him in the chest, utterly discombobulating him. For a brief and hopeful second he wondered if he’d misheard, but he knew there was absolutely nothing wrong with his hearing. What he did know was that trying to be friends with Nicole was impossible.

  Chapter Twelve

  Luke came into the house from the morning’s milking to the aroma of bacon, eggs, pancakes, syrup and coffee. On one level he knew it was wrong that his mother was cooking for him on her vacation, but there was no doubt that when his stomach was filled with a big breakfast, he coped with the long summer days so much better. Not that he couldn’t fry eggs himself, it was just that time was tight and he usually grabbed coffee and toast because it was quick.

  “You’re lucky there’s still food left.” His mother handed him a fully loaded plate and a steaming mug of coffee.

  “Thanks for this.” He took his place at the table and flicked open the napkin.

  “You’re welcome. Did you get held up?” His mother poured herself a coffee and took a seat across from him.

  “Hmm.” He sipped his own drink, not wanting to confess to the fact he’d stayed in the dairy longer than was absolutely necessary so he could avoid sitting down to breakfast with his father. It was hard enough milking alongside his disapproving silences and his not-so-silent contempt, without extending that into meal times. At least his mother wouldn’t be commenting on why he got in so late last night because the crazy hours farmers kept in summer was the perfect cover for the fact he’d been with Erin until 2:00 a.m. Part of him had wanted to stay until dawn but he’d needed to check on a cow and after that, his own bed had been a lost closer.

  “You getting up early to cook and Dad getting up even earlier to milk has to be the oddest vacation the two of you have ever taken.”

  She wrapped her capable hands around her mug and smiled. “Oh, I don’t know. We did that farm vacation when we visited you in Australia, remember? Your dad milked on five different farms and his eyes still light up when he talks about it. Then there was the French cheese tour that the Wisconsin cheese board ran.”