A Fabulous Wedding

by Dianne Castell

  Dixie smiled, but it was one of those you-think-I’m-buying-this-load-of-bull smiles. He needed to convince her. “Wes and I knew each other in Denver.”

  Wes fished a business card from his pocket. “If you have a job for a photographer, I’m your man. I’ll be in the area for a month or so. Doing a piece on small northwest towns. I happened to be in Whistlers Bend tonight and thought I’d pay a visit to old Nick.”

  Wes held out a hand to Dixie. “Glad to meet you—”

  “Dixie Carmichael,” she supplied, and took his hand. She seemed a little more convinced he was telling the truth. Wes’s smile could convince any woman of anything. And why did he suddenly want to punch Wes in the nose for smiling at Dixie? He needed a shrink!

  “I’ll be on my way,” Dixie said as she pocketed the card. “And I’ll keep you in mind for pictures. Thanks.”

  She left, and Nick waited for the final click of the door. He ducked around Wes to make sure the door latched for real this time. Tomorrow it got fixed!

  Wes said, “Damn! I saw Dixie leave, I thought the coast was clear to come in. When I looked in the window you two sure seemed to be getting along.”

  Nick raked back his hair. “That is the most inquisitive woman on planet Earth. Hope we convinced her we are who we say we are. She’s a reporter and never keeps things quiet. The good news is she’s also probably related to Sherlock Holmes. If there’s a clue somewhere around, she finds it.”

  Wes dumped the remaining spaghetti onto a plate and added the rest of the sauce. He sat at the table and dug in. “This is great,” Wes mumbled around a mouthful. “I’m starved.”

  “No kidding.”

  Wes glanced up, grinning like a big bear. “Damn, you’re a good cook. Can’t wait till you really open a restaurant.”

  “Can’t wait till you really start that book on the West you’re always talking about.”

  Wes shook his head and shoveled in more pasta. “Don’t have time for that. I can’t imagine leaving the bureau.”

  “Even with a slug in your shoulder?”

  “Occupational hazard. I’m fine. Never better.”

  Right, Nick thought, Wes should get out of the FBI now, find a life. He was a good guy, a friend going on twenty years and Nick’s partner for the past ten. How long would his luck hold before all his near misses caught up with him? But Wes wasn’t listening. Nick was all too aware of that.

  Nick reached into his back pocket and pulled out the fake card. “Dixie found this up at the abandoned depot outside of town. It’s in decent shape, which means it’s new. I think our smugglers used that spot to off-load merchandise from big trucks to smaller ones. Have you found anything over in Rocky Fork?”

  Wes eyed the card and swiped a napkin across his mouth. “Hell, nothing as good as this. I’m betting that even if the smugglers are using other locations in the area, sooner or later they’ll rotate back to ones they’ve used before. The big question is—when will they rotate?”

  He leaned back in the chair, and Nick handed him a glass of wine as he continued. “I got a call this morning. U.S. Customs and Immigration agents busted seventeen people for smuggling fifty million dollars’ worth of bogus Louis Vuitton, Prada, Coach, Chanel, Christian Dior and Fendi merchandise in thirty forty-foot containers through Port Elizabeth, New Jersey. The smugglers are part of a crime network and the money was traced to accounts that fund known terrorist groups in the Middle East.”

  “Why in the hell would someone buy this fake junk when the money goes to organizations sworn to destroy them?”

  “They say the knockoff rage is sport. Do you believe that? Sport! A very deadly sport.”

  “I’ll stop by tomorrow and show Jack the card to keep him in the loop. I’ll do it on the sly. If Dixie sees me with Jack too much, she’ll start putting things together and figure out who I am.”

  Wes sat back and let out a contented sigh. “I can tell by the way she focused on you that there’s more than spaghetti cooking between you two.”

  “Nothing but business.”

  Wes chuckled softly as he stood and turned for the hallway. “Watch yourself, partner. You don’t want any distractions on the job.” He massaged his shoulder. “One of us nearly buying it is enough.”

  Nick listened to the back door close. Wes was right. Dixie Carmichael had turned his brain to mush and he’d better get over it fast. Too much depended on his finding the smugglers that would help put an end to a really nasty business and keep Dixie safe.

  DIXIE POURED Maggie a cup of coffee as the morning crowd drifted into the Purple Sage. “I need a favor.”

  Maggie groaned. “I could tell there was some reason you wanted me to stop here before my cattle ranchers’ meeting. I was hoping you discovered the perfect wedding dress.” She winked at Dixie. “Heard you gave Gracie the five-hundred bucks you won to take cosmetology classes.”

  “They start on Saturday.” Dixie fluffed her curls. “Now we’re all saved. And if you help me out, I’ll get her to do your hair for your wedding free and I’ll really concentrate on that perfect dress. I swear.”

  “A bribe?” Maggie wiggled her brows. “This must be one doozy of a favor.”

  “It’s just a tiny little one.” Dixie sat across the table and leaned toward Maggie, keeping her voice low. “My shift here is done in twenty minutes. All I need is one hour alone in Nick’s place. You have the cattle ranchers’ meeting at ten. Just call Nick and tell him you want to introduce him to the ranchers. That it’ll be good for his restaurant business and he can buy beef direct. Or whatever you want to tell him. Make up something so I can rummage through his house. I felt something was not right with that guy before, but now…Well, it’s worse than ever and I want to figure out what he’s up to.”

  “This is because of that other guy showing up last night, isn’t it? I knew when you mentioned him on the phone that there was a new bee in your bonnet. Nick’s a cook, Dix. The other guy is a photographer. They were friends in Denver. Doesn’t sound all that strange an explanation to me. We get photographers here all the time, thanks to that Horse Whisperer movie that showed how gorgeous it is in Montana. In my opinion, that feeling you have about Nick is…amore. Steamy Italian vibes. Enjoy the ride, girl.”

  “Just give me an hour, and when I don’t find anything, I’ll forget about investigating Nick and maybe go for that ride—at least till I have to leave.” She let out a sigh. “But to tell you the truth, Nick’s not as steamy as you think. He’s getting over a relationship, and all but tossed me out of his house last night because he wasn’t ready. First he passes on my kiss and now this. Holy cow! Maybe I’m losing my touch.”

  “Are you kidding? You’re just what he needs to get over a relationship. A little fun, a little sass. But forget the snooping, okay?”

  “I can’t. It’s an obsession. Some people have chocolate obsessions. I have—”

  “A buttinski obsession a mile wide.”

  She handed over Nick’s number. “Got this from one of the clerks over at the bank. He got it from the mortgage statement. Make the call. Someone said they saw him downstairs, tearing up the old carpet. The meeting’s in a half hour. When this is over and done with and I won’t pester you anymore.”

  “That’s because I’ll be dead. Jack’s the sheriff. I’m his wife…well, almost wife. I shouldn’t be doing this. Isn’t aiding a break-in against the law?”

  “You’re not breaking in. I am. All you’re doing is inviting a man to a meeting. Jack won’t find out. And if he does, making up will be so much fun. I just got to get rid of this nagging feeling I have about Nick. The man’s driving me nuts. And it’s more than his Italian studliness!”

  Maggie puffed out a big breath. “All right, all right. Because we’re friends.” She punched in the numbers. “You better find me the best dress ever. You owe me.”

  Dixie listened to the one-sided conversation as Maggie charmed Nick and got him to agree to come to the meeting. She disconnected. “It’s done, but i
f Jack strangles me I’m coming back to haunt you, and it won’t be pretty.”

  Maggie left for her meeting, and Dixie poured more coffee for customers and served up two orders of Sunrise Skillet and two of Mile-high Hotcakes before her shift ended. She changed into jeans and headed for Nick’s. She plastered a big smile on her face and knocked on the back door like any good neighbor paying a visit. When Nick didn’t answer, she found the key Jan had hidden under the rock in the garden and unlocked the back door. At least, she tried to. The key didn’t work.

  How interesting was that! So, Nick Romero didn’t like her coming back last night and finding him with that Wes guy. Why? Who was this guy? She stepped back and eyed an open upstairs window and the pine tree next to the building, with branches from ground to roof. She stepped onto the bottom branch, close to the trunk so the thin branch would support her, and climbed. More shades of teenage years and missing curfew. Except then she’d been young and in good shape.

  She got to the roof and crawled on all fours across the shingles to the window. A screen? She needed to start packing breaking-and-entering equipment when she did things like this. She wedged her fingernails between the screen frame and window frame and shoved sideways. Three fingernails snapped and the screen popped out. She laid the screen on the roof and slipped inside to the back bedroom. Empty. Nothing to look at here. Nick’s bedroom was in the front.

  She checked her watch. Forty minutes left, and Maggie better keep Nick busy that long. Boxes still littered the floor of his room. No dresser, bed unmade. She dug through the boxes—shirts, jeans, all neat and new. He was a briefs, not a boxer, man. Blue and gray and black ones. Not a tighty-whitey in sight. Her fingers lingered on the soft cotton. Then she thought of what that soft cotton held. A great butt…and more. Oh, so much more!

  She swallowed, heat rushing to all body parts. It had been a while since she’d been in the company of more. Not now, Carmichael. Think about that later. She had twenty minutes left, with zilch to show for her efforts so far…except palpitations over Nick.

  She opened the closet. Jackets, a few pair of jeans that had made it to a hanger, the baseball cap she’d lent him. She picked it off the shelf. Maybe he put that registration card in the cap to return to her later. She turned it over as she heard the front door open, then close.

  Nick! Cripes! She fumbled the hat and it fell to the floor. She bent to get it, and caught a glimpse of a box shoved into the back of the closet, out of the way. Why there?

  Nick’s footsteps sounded on the stairs. Good thing he didn’t use her step-on-the-edge trick or she never would have heard him. She pulled on the door but didn’t close it all the way in case it squeaked or clicked shut. She prayed he didn’t look in the back bedroom and notice that the screen was out. Her pulse beat fast in her temple. A migraine threatened right along with a stroke. She had nerves of jelly. The gals on Alias never had nerves of jelly. Buck up, Carmichael!

  She peeked through the crack as Nick walked in and sat on the bed. He pulled out his cell phone and punched up a number, leaned his forearms on his knees and said, “Hey, I’m going to need restaurant equipment and furniture. Can you get it delivered? Dixie coming in on us together wasn’t in the plan, but now that she has, it’s okay if you come around. We can act like friends without causing suspicion.” He listened, then replied, “Yeah, I’m making changes as I go. This isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. I have to prove to everyone I’m just one of the good old boys.”

  He disconnected, ran his hand back and forth over his head in a frustrated manner. He puffed out a breath, muttered something about this being a pain, stood and left, his footfalls retreating down the steps. The front door closed, and she hurried to the window in time to see Nick cut across the street to the hardware store. What was all that about his needing changing? Change what? And how did this affect that Wes guy? That was obviously who he was talking to.

  But right now she had to get out of here before Nick returned. She didn’t want to try her luck a second time at hiding. She eyed the closet, and again glimpsed the big box in the back. Just a quick peek inside would satisfy her curiosity. She scooted the box out and pulled apart the flaps. More bubble wrap. The man was king of bubble wrap. She dug further and yanked out— “A purse?” Not just a purse but Prada.

  She rummaged around more and slid another purse out. “Louis Vuitton.” She held it by the handle and sighed. “This is so gorgeous,” she whispered worshipfully.

  She put it on the floor beside the Prada, pawed through more bubble wrap and found a cute Coach purse in blue, then a pink Kate Spade. “Good heavens. It’s Christmas! Oh, I love Kate Spade.” She held it to her side and posed. She looked good with Kate. Everyone looked good with Kate!

  She pushed aside more bubbles to a picture of…Cher…then a CD of show tunes in a white gift box. Incredible scarves. Silk. Designer, complete with logo and signatures. Then a stash of perfumes! The good French stuff in pretty little glass bottles.

  What in the world was Nick Romero doing with these things hidden in his closet? She wished all these beautiful things were in her closet!

  Holy crap! Her heart sank. She picked up the picture of Cher and the CD featuring Oklahoma!, feeling worse than she had when Danny had run off with that model. Nick Romero…he wasn’t who he appeared to be at all. Not that it was a bad thing. Just not what she suspected.

  Nick Romero was gay!

  Chapter Five

  Numb after her encounter with the purses, Cher and the show tunes, Dixie boxed everything up and shoved the box back into the closet. She got the screen off the roof and slid it back into the window, then went downstairs, her brain scrambled. Confusion sat in her gut like a two-day-old jelly doughnut. She opened the door, reset the latch and closed it, then walked down the path and right into… “Nick? I was here…looking for you, and you weren’t home. Gee, imagine that.”

  He grinned. “Well, I’m here now.”

  And he was. Great-fitting jeans, slim hips, broad shoulders, twinkling dark eyes. He seemed so much a…man. She said, “Dinner. I wanted to thank you for dinner. It was terrific. And Wes seems like a nice guy.”

  “We’ve known each other for years.”

  She mentally wept. So much manliness and not one bit of it interested in her or anyone remotely like her. “Just thought I’d stop by. I’m meeting up with Maggie at the Sage.”

  “Are you okay? You’re acting a little preoccupied, like something’s on your mind.”

  “Nothing important. See you around.” She turned and made her way down the stone path, sensing Nick’s eyes on her as she went. She couldn’t stay and talk. Talk about what? She needed to get to the Sage—familiar territory—and sort things out.

  She entered the diner and slid into the seat across from Maggie. “Well,” Maggie stage-whispered, her eyes sparking with excitement. “What happened? I did my bit and got him out of his place—at least, as long as I could.”

  BJ took a third seat. “What are we talking about? What did I miss?”

  Dixie pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes for a moment to collect her wits. She said in an equally low voice, “You are not going to believe this. Nick’s gay.”

  BJ and Maggie exchanged glances, then sat back and laughed. “Sure he is,” BJ said.

  Dixie’s spine stiffened. “You think I’d make something like that up? Good grief. The man’s as gay as New Year’s Eve in New York City. He cooks, has neat new clothes and keeps his hair trimmed. And he can decorate. Uses terms like saffron yellow and parchment white and Roman shades. I ask you, just how many straight men even know what a Roman shade is? He hates danger of any sort. He’s so laid back, not an ounce of testosterone pumping through his veins, and he can dance like a dream and—”

  “That is so lame. You’re being shallow,” Maggie interrupted. “Those are stereotypes. You can’t tell if someone’s gay just by appearance.”

  Dixie leaned closer still. “Nick’s got that boyfriend, Wes. He asked
Nick to come up and see him sometime, in this real flirty voice.”

  BJ’s eyes rounded and Dixie added, “And here’s the clincher. Nick has women’s stuff. Really, really nice women’s stuff. Prada, Chanel, Gucci. The man has excellent taste. What man has taste in anything but beer and all things grilled? Nick has designer purses, perfume, scarves to die for. Not only is the first guy I’ve really liked since my divorce gay, but he accessorizes better than I do!”

  BJ tapped her fingers on the tabletop. “I have to admit you’ve got some list there. Not that being gay is a bad thing. I’m just surprised.”

  “You’re surprised?” Dixie said. “How would you like to be the woman in a potential relationship and find this out? There were signs. I just didn’t pick up on them. When I tried to kiss Nick he started to cooperate, then stepped away. I even held his hand for a little while, but then he let go.”

  Dixie sat back again. A slow smile fell across her lips. “Which means maybe he’s…changing?”

  Maggie leveled her a stare. “Define changing. Like in his address from Denver to Whistlers Bend?”

  “In that he’s attracted to me. I heard him on the phone and he admitted he was changing. Said he just couldn’t do it all at once. What if he’s just confused?” A grin split Dixie’s face.

  BJ took her hand. “Being homosexual doesn’t work like that, dear. It’s a preference, not a confusion.”

  “So, I’ll get him to prefer me. I’ll convert him.”

  BJ said, “You’ll humiliate yourself and him. This is Nick’s business. Let him alone, Dixie. There are other men for you out there.”

  “But I like this one,” she whined. She didn’t intend to whine. It just kind of slipped out. “What if we kidnap Nick? Technically, that would be man-napping.”

  “Technically, that would be twenty to life in the big house. And there is no we on this plan. You can’t kidnap Nick. What are you thinking? For openers, he’s bigger than you.”