How to Be a Blissful Bride

by Stacy Connelly

  “I’m glad this baby is mine, Alexa.” Possessiveness and a familiar heat burned in his blue eyes. “What you heard me say to Rory... I guess I’m worried you might still think Griffin would be a better bet as a father.”

  “As soon as I felt—or at least thought I felt—the baby move, I wanted to share that with you, Chance.” Covering his hand with her own, she pressed his palm tighter against her belly, strengthening the already miraculous bond between them. “With you, not with Griffin.”

  “So you’ll stay?”

  “The room—”

  “We’ll talk to Evie and figure something out.” After reaching into his pocket, he held out his closed fist. “Besides, Cinderella, you don’t want to leave this behind, do you?”

  She gave a small laugh when she saw the butterfly pin resting in his palm. “Again?”

  “You seem to be making a habit of leaving this in my bed.”

  Feeling the heat rising to her cheeks, she reached out, but Chance’s hand closed around hers. “And you seem to be making a habit of finding me and giving it back.”

  “Lucky thing.”

  “Last night at the cottage, you said the pin was your good-luck charm.”

  Chance groaned and immediately let her go. “I told you I’m an idiot on pain meds. Who knows what I was talking about?”

  Alexa had the feeling he knew exactly but that he didn’t want to explain. As she fingered the fragile butterfly, she tried not to think about a time when Chance’s luck might run out.

  * * *

  “When my brother invited you to come down to the reception, I don’t think cleanup duty was what he had in mind.”

  Alexa paused, drink tray in hand, to glance over her shoulder. Rory McClaren held two dessert plates loaded down with wedges of chocolate and raspberry cream cake. “I don’t mind lending a hand.”

  Her plan to simply watch the festivities from the sidelines hadn’t lasted long. Sitting toward the back of the ballroom, she’d admired the rose and gerbera daisy centerpieces on each white-clothed table. Matching red velvet bows decorated the back of every chair, the bright color a complement to the ballroom’s dark walnut wainscot. She’d been content to watch and laugh at the sight of couples young and old strutting their stuff to the “Chicken Dance” on the parquet inlaid dance floor.

  But when the music changed to a romantic ballad and the bride’s seventysomething grandfather asked her to dance, Alexa hadn’t had the heart to refuse the sweet man. That dance was followed by one with the groom’s preteen and adorably serious nephew. No one minded that she wasn’t an invited guest, and each time she looked Chance’s way, he met her glance with a quick wink of his camera flash.

  She couldn’t help but watch him throughout the reception as he smiled and laughed with the guests and bridal party, helping even the most reluctant subject relax in front of his lens.

  That was the Chance Alexa remembered from Santa Barbara. Charming, funny, with a confidence she found undeniably sexy.

  But she’d seen another side of him, too, during the unrehearsed shots when the bride and groom or wedding guests didn’t realize he had them in his sights. A serious, determined side. The camera seemed like a part of him in those moments as his focus narrowed and the world around him disappeared.

  That must be what he was like in the field. When he would shut off his emotions with the single-minded purpose of getting his shot. When bombs could go off around him and he wouldn’t even notice.

  “I’ve never coordinated a wedding, but I know what it’s like to plan for large events. There’s always something that needs to be done.”

  Now the reception was starting to wind down. The band still played to a handful of couples on the dance floor, but most of the guests had left. The Hillcrest House staff had started to discreetly move around the ballroom, sweeping away empty plates and glasses from the white-clothed tables. Not one to sit around when there was work to be done, Alexa had grabbed a tray to help out.

  “When it comes to weddings, there’s always too much work, but if you’re lucky, sometimes there’s too much cake. Like a piece?”

  At Alexa’s nod, Rory set the plates on a nearby table before sinking into a chair with a groan. “My feet are killing me. One of these days, I’m going to start wearing tennis shoes to these things.”

  Chance’s sister looked professional yet eminently approachable in a yellow shirtwaist dress with cap sleeves. Her kitten-heeled slingbacks matched perfectly, and Alexa couldn’t imagine her sacrificing style for comfort, no matter how much her feet hurt.

  Alexa took a small bite of cake, and rolled her eyes as the rich chocolate and tart fruit flavor melted in her mouth. “This is to die for.”

  “All our cakes are made by a local baker who owns a café on Main Street called Sugar & Spice. You should check it out while you’re in town. I mean, if you’re staying?”

  Rory’s prying was somewhat more subtle than Mary’s, but Alexa could certainly see a mother-daughter resemblance. “I’m staying for now, but I have a fund-raising benefit at the end of the month. I’ll need to be back in LA by then.”

  “Chance mentioned the work you do. I can’t imagine all the preparation that must go into coordinating those star-studded events.” She waved her fork at the ballroom. “I’m somewhat new at all of this. A part of me is still surprised when everything goes off without a hitch.”

  “I’ve organized more benefit dinners and charity events than I can count. The only way those events succeed is to rely heavily on volunteers, which means being shorthanded more often than not. I’ve set tables, arranged flowers, help prep in the kitchen. I’ve even—”

  She laughed at a long-ago memory, the sound drawing a curious look from Rory. “Even what?”

  “Back when I was still a teenager, my grandmother hosted a party at the house. The singer she’d hired canceled at the last minute.” Alexa shook her head. “And my grandmother, in her infinite wisdom, decided I should fill in as the night’s entertainment.”

  Rory’s dark eyebrows rose. “You can sing?”

  “After all the countless hours with a private music instructor, you—like my grandmother—would think so,” she said wryly. “One good thing to come out of that disaster was that it did put an end to those lessons.”

  The brunette fought a smile as she dug in for another forkful of the moist, decadent cake, and Alexa strangely felt like she’d passed some kind of test.

  “You know, it’s been years since I’ve met one of Chance’s girlfriends.”

  Bonding over bridezillas and celebrity nightmares wasn’t enough for Alexa to feel comfortable confessing she wasn’t Chance’s girlfriend. More like a weekend stand—if such a thing existed.

  So instead, she murmured, “Your mother might have mentioned something along those lines this morning.”

  Rory grinned. “That must have been fun.”

  “I’d likely use another word for it.”

  “His last girlfriend did a real number on him. Jerked him around enough in their six months together to give him a permanent case of relationship whiplash.” Her tone was easy, but Alexa didn’t miss the weight behind it.

  “I’m not here to jerk Chance around.” Remembering what the wedding coordinator said during their first meeting—about magic and romance—Alexa said, “I’m sorry for not being more up-front about my...history with Chance. I’m sure the next couple who comes through will find their Hillcrest House happily-ever-after.”

  “Final dance, folks!” the lead singer called out from the small stage in the corner of the room. “Make it last.”

  An older couple joined the younger kids on the dance floor, including the groom’s nephew who had found a dance partner closer to his own age.

  “Don’t give up on your own happily-ever-after so soon, Alexa,” Rory advised with a speculative smile. “Something tells me your s
tory isn’t over yet.”

  Alexa turned in the chair, following the other woman’s gaze, and felt her heart skip a beat. Walking up behind her, Chance held out his hand. “Can I have this dance?”

  Chapter Ten

  Chance’s pulse pounded in his veins as Alexa placed her slender hand in his. He’d been dying to hold her in his arms again since... Since she’d joined him at the reception? Since she’d arrived in Clearville? Since he’d left her hotel room four months ago?

  He knew the answer was all of the above. And after watching her tonight, he wanted her even more.

  She’d been as charming and gracious at this small-town wedding for a couple she didn’t even know as she’d been at the celebrity gala in Santa Barbara. He’d watched her make an old man feel young again and make a young boy feel like a man as she’d moved so gracefully in their arms.

  Both of her partners had beamed with pleasure and pride as she’d easily smoothed over any of their missteps. Though Chance had every confidence in his own abilities, he didn’t doubt the same smile was tugging at his lips.

  She was amazing, and the most incredible part was that she didn’t even seem to know it.

  “You’re staring,” she accused as she ducked her head slightly and kept her gaze focused on the top button of his shirt.

  “I know. It’s hard not to when you’re the most beautiful woman here.”

  Anyone could see that, but Chance suddenly realized how often that was all anyone saw. The face of the foundation... That was how Alexa had referred to herself, as if beauty was all she had to offer.

  “Do you know the first thing that attracted me to you that night in Santa Barbara?”

  Alexa blinked up at him, and Chance could tell she didn’t know how to answer the question. She had beauty, wealth, sophistication, but so too had many of the women there that night.

  As the hostess for the charity event, she’d greeted every wealthy donor by name, welcoming them with a flawless grace. But as he’d watched, he quickly recognized the strength behind the beauty.

  “It was seeing how you handled that drunk jerk.”

  A small smile tugged her lips. “That drunk jerk is one of my grandmother’s biggest donors, and a high-tech billionaire.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact that he was drunk jerk. I saw him proposition that server, and I was ready to toss him out on his fat wallet.”

  “That would have been something to see.”

  “Yeah, but it might have gotten me thrown out of the event and taken the focus away from all the hard work you’d done for the charity. But you—you were a pro. You handled him so perfectly that the guy didn’t even know he was being handled. He handed over a donation and was back in his limo before he knew what hit him.”

  “It’s all part of the job.”

  “You know it was more than that. You could have notified security, but that might have caused a scene and even more embarrassment for the poor girl.” He brushed a strand of hair back from her cheek, mesmerized by the softness of her skin, by the silkiness of her hair. By her...

  “That night, I thought you looked like an angel, but the truth is you’re human, just like the rest of us, but with a heart of gold. You care about people. And that’s—that’s what I saw that night. That’s what you’ve shown me again here today.”

  She shook her head, and that same wayward strand of hair fell forward to tempt him again. “I haven’t done anything special today.”

  “You made your dance partners’ days just by saying yes. You’ve made my day—” his week, his month, his year “—just by saying yes to this dance.”

  “Thank you, but still... As a wedding photographer, you should know that no one is more beautiful than the bride on her wedding day,” she chided gently, and just like when he’d lifted his camera earlier, the images in his brain jumbled together.

  Alexa... The bride... Alexa, the most beautiful bride...

  * * *

  “Oh, Chance.” Seated with him at a table in the now empty ballroom, Alexa looked up from the wedding pictures he’d uploaded to his tablet. She stopped at an image of the bride adjusting her veil in front of a full-length mirror. Sunlight shone through a side window, casting an aura around the blond-haired woman. “She looks like an angel. This picture is perfect.”

  “I still need to do some editing,” he said, deflecting her praise, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

  “It’s perfect,” she repeated.

  She’d seen some of his award-winning photos, including the ones he’d donated the night of the charity auction. Those images were raw, stark, brutally honest. So she could understand his concerns that his professional eye might not translate to capturing the hope and romance of a young couple’s wedding day.

  He needn’t have worried.

  He shifted at her side, uncomfortable with her praise as she swiped through the next photos. Her breath caught at a picture of a toddler flower girl in a ruffled red dress, her white wicker basket held upside down over her head. Flipping through the pictures quickly, Alexa could view a near live-action video of the little girl’s adorably unsteady march down the aisle—her blond corkscrew curls bouncing, her blue eyes bright with laughter, her chubby cheeks almost matching the color of her dress.

  In the last photo, the little girl was grinning straight at the camera. Seeing that little girl through Chance’s camera lens, through his eyes, had her own blurring with tears.

  “Weddings are supposed to make you cry. Not looking at wedding pictures. Especially not pictures of people you don’t even know.” His voice was as gruff as if he, too, was fighting some overwhelming emotion.

  “I don’t know these people, but—These pictures, seeing them, makes me feel like I’m seeing the real you.”

  “Funny.” Chance gave a soft laugh. “Every time I lifted my camera, I felt like I was seeing you.”

  “Seeing me?” Puzzled, Alexa set the tablet aside. A different kind of longing gripped her as she met his gaze. She felt like they were back on the dance floor. Despite the slow song, her head had spun dizzily, a feeling that stayed with her even after the music stopped. He overwhelmed her every sense—from the low rumble of his voice, to the scent of his woodsy aftershave, to the brush of his muscular thighs against hers... With his lips mere inches above hers, she’d wanted nothing more than to kiss him again.

  She hadn’t abandoned the list of “a Mayhew does nots” to the point where she’d be comfortable making out on a dance floor—even an almost empty dance floor.

  But the longing and the head-spinning, pulse-pounding desire was still there, reflected back in Chance’s handsome face as he brushed a lock of hair back behind her ear. A shiver ran down her spine as he said, “I kept seeing you dressed in white, walking down that aisle, wearing a veil.”

  Her breath seized in her chest. Her heart beat so loudly against her breastbone she wondered that he couldn’t hear it. Surely he couldn’t be saying what she thought he was saying? “Chance...”

  His smile was wry as he reached up to touch her hairpin. “It wasn’t just this butterfly I carried with me all those months. It was you...Lexi.”

  “We barely know each other!”

  “The baby you’re carrying goes to show we know each other pretty well.”

  “Not well enough to—” Alexa couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

  “Get married?”

  Oh, good Lord, he was saying what she thought he was saying!

  “Look, I know your parents clearly expect us to get married but—”

  “This isn’t about what my parents want. It’s about me wanting our child to have two parents. For the three of us to be a family.”

  “Our child does have two parents. Getting married doesn’t make you a father.”

  A muscle in his jaw thrummed. “Getting you pregnant doesn’t make me a father eithe
r. It takes more than that.”

  “You’re right. It takes caring and commitment—”

  “Which is why I want to marry you. To prove to you that I am committed—to you and to our baby. We have a responsibility to do what’s best for our child.”

  Alexa couldn’t deny the sincerity or seriousness of his vow. If only he didn’t sound like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince her.

  And it had to be some kind of record, right? To be proposed to by two different men within a two-month period with neither one of them mentioning the L word.

  She hadn’t expected it from Griffin, and it was foolish to think she’d hear it from Chance, and yet somehow she still had...

  “So we get married and then what? Do you realize I don’t even know where you live?”

  “I have an apartment in LA, but we can live wherever you want. That doesn’t matter.”

  “Doesn’t matter?” she echoed faintly. She supposed it didn’t, not when so much of his life was on the road and everything he owned fit in a beat-up backpack. Something that clearly wouldn’t change even if it meant leaving a child—or wife—behind.

  “What matters most is that I want to be part of our child’s life.”

  “And how would that work when you’re halfway around the world?” Putting himself in God knew how much danger...

  “That’s not fair, Alexa. That’s my job. A job I love.”

  Ah, and there was the L word missing from his proposal, given instead as a reason why he would always be walking away.

  “You’re an amazing photographer, but the assignments you take—the risks. I was serious about the money people would be willing to pay for your photographs, Chance. I spoke with Roslynn St. Clare. She’s a friend of my grandmother’s, and she owns one of the most prestigious art galleries in Beverly Hills. And she was interested in your work.”

  But he was already shaking his head. “That’s not me, Alexa. That’s not who I am, and even if I wanted to do a show with Roslynn St. Clare, I couldn’t.”