An August Bride

by Debra Clopton

  “Thank you.” Her soft words pulled him from thoughts of kisses in the moonlight.

  “That was . . . scary.” She looked down at her ruined gown, tugging at the shimmery cloth. “No, on second thought, this is scary.” The dress stretched out like a sweater on her slim figure and puddled in the sand. She half gasped, half laughed, then her head shot up, alarm on her face. “My cousin’s wedding rehearsal party. Aunt E, I’m going to be late. I have to go change. Can you explain things to Tiffany before I get there? But don’t alarm her,” she warned.

  Esther Mae’s mouth dropped open. “I wouldn’t dare,” she said.

  Her last name finally clicked with him and Brent’s pulse kicked into high gear. “Your cousin is Tiffany? Steven’s Tiffany?”

  Esther Mae brightened—if that was possible. “Yes, do you know my other niece, Tiffany, and her fiancé, Steven? Are you here for the wedding?”

  This day couldn’t get any better. Brent went to tip his hat, then realized it was floating out to sea. “We rodeoed together in college. I’m one of his groomsmen, Brent Corbin. I missed rehearsal earlier.”

  “You are,” Esther Mae said with emphasis. “Did y’all hear that? Brent, here, is in the wedding party!”

  He still had one hand on Kelsey’s left arm and felt her stiffen.

  “Rodeo?” She took a step back. Her gaze swept down him, only now taking in his dripping shirt, dress jeans, and finally his ruined ostrich skin boots. “You’re a . . . a cowboy,” she gasped. “With boots.”

  His heart tightened at the way her kissable pink bottom lip dropped and her expression filled with hurt and anger snarled together like thorns and blossoms in berry vines.

  It cut to his core as if she’d just accused him of using his boots to kick Millie. What has a cowboy done to her? Because Brent knew without a doubt that she’d been hurt and hurt deeply. Nothing else explained that pain in her incredible eyes.

  Distinct groans echoed from the threesome beside him.

  “Yeah, I am. I own the Sandbar Ranch, right down the road from Corpus.”

  “Sandbar. I do love the name of your ranch.” Adela’s interjection smoothed the tension. She picked up his discarded suit jacket and began brushing it off, then offered it to him with a smile.

  “Yes,” Esther Mae jumped in, glancing at Kelsey. “It’s a perfect name, since it’s close to the ocean, right, Kelsey?”

  He could feel Kelsey withdrawing. She rubbed her hands on her arms, and he noticed goose bumps.

  “The ranch has a long strip of secluded beach. That’s how my dad and mom came up with the name.” He leaned forward and dropped his jacket over her shoulders, wanting to hug her, but instead drew away and gave her space.

  Norma Sue slapped him between the shoulders. “There you go, Brent. Ain’t he a gentleman, Kelsey?”

  “Yes, thanks,” Kelsey said, swaying toward him, then drawing back she clutched the jacket around her. “I . . . I have to go.” She turned and started down the beach, dress dragging in the sand.

  Brent was speechless.

  Esther Mae shot him an apologetic glance, then hustled after his mermaid, her yellow tent of a dress shaking.

  Norma Sue slapped him on the back again. “Well, that didn’t go over so well. One no-count cowboy breaks her heart and she locks it away.”

  So that explained it. Brent couldn’t take his gaze off of Kelsey as she hurried along the edge of the water where it licked the sand. His interest had been caught from the first moment he’d touched her.

  And she didn’t like cowboys.

  Just his luck.

  Esther Mae came tromping back in the last of the fading light, looking flustered.

  “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go change into something dry . . .”

  “We have to do something,” Esther Mae told her friends.

  They were all studying him. “Is something wrong?”

  “Are you seeing anyone?” Esther Mae asked.

  “No, ma’am. Not at the moment.”

  “Perfect.” She clapped her hands together and her face lit up. “You might be just the cowboy to help my Kelsey jump back in the saddle.”

  Norma Sue started nodding. “I do believe she’s right.”

  Not at all sure what to make of the sudden turn of events, and still reeling from his reaction to Kelsey—and her reaction to him—he smiled with caution.

  “Ladies, I’m thinkin’ that’s somethin’ Kelsey’s gonna have to decide,” he drawled, only to watch all three of them wilt before him. “Look, I get that y’all care for Kelsey. And she’s a lucky woman to have y’all on her side. Especially after the bad hand I gather she’s been dealt. But she looks strong. She’ll find her way.” Promising to see them at the party, he headed toward the hotel to change.

  His boots sloshed with water and his sandy clothes scratched as they clung to him, but his heart felt lighter than it had in a very long time. The weekend he’d been dreading for months had just taken an unexpected turn for the better.

  Kelsey Wilcox—the most beautiful mermaid he’d never dreamed of—had splashed into his life, and she would be at the wedding.

  And that changed everything.

  He smiled as he climbed the stairs to the Castle. What other unexpected treasures would the night bring?

  No, no, no,” Kelsey mumbled, while her mind cheered, “Yes, yes, yes!”

  Brent Corbin was gorgeous.

  Gorgeous.

  But he was a cowboy. Just like the boot-wearing, slow-drawling sweet-talker sporting a cowboy hat who had broken her heart into itsy-bitsy pieces. Did she need to remind herself that she no longer trusted cowboys?

  But he was so gorgeous.

  And he’d just dived in there and rescued her and poor Millie. She knew ostrich boots like the ones he’d ruined were very expensive. And he hadn’t given them a thought before plunging in.

  He had to be a nice guy.

  But still a cowboy. Her heart needed to stop with the pitter-patter it was doing, because there was only one thing she mistrusted more than a cowboy.

  And that would be her heart.

  She was so glad when she reached her tiny bungalow. It was the perfect little spot just behind the boardwalk, close to her bistro and only about three football-field-lengths away from the hotel. Tonight it seemed even more perfect because it gave her a place to duck out of sight to try to reclaim some semblance of calm.

  Her skin still tingled from Brent’s touch. Her heart still raced from the way he’d looked at her—no. No. That was from the adrenaline lingering in her bloodstream after nearly drowning.

  Because of this horrible dress. She pulled the blinds shut and peeled the offensive disaster from her body right there in the kitchen. Then she kicked it into the corner for good measure.

  Hurrying to her bedroom, she took a quick shower, then got busy drying her long, thick hair and finding a replacement outfit from her closet. This was Tiffany’s night. She had to ignore the persistent buzz inside her head. She told herself it was from all the salt water she’d ingested in the bay an hour earlier, not from anticipation.

  Anticipating seeing a certain cowboy again was not what Kelsey wanted for herself.

  But was “herself” listening? Nope.

  Brent stood beside Tiffany, Steven, and several other members of the wedding party on the lower level of the ballroom discussing honeymoon plans. He was trying hard to concentrate on the conversation, but thoughts of Kelsey kept interrupting.

  Now that he knew Tiffany and Kelsey were cousins, he could see the resemblance. They were both willowy blondes with similar fine-boned beauty, Carrie Underwood smiles, and gigantic Pacific-blue eyes—not that he knew what Carrie’s eye color was, but there was a resemblance. However, Tiffany’s eyes, or Carrie’s smile, didn’t slam him in the chest and knock all thoughts from his brain like one look from Kelsey had done.

  An hour and a half later and he was still reeling from his reaction to her. He thought maybe it had something to
do with the high stakes way they met—after all, it wasn’t as if he saved someone’s life every day.

  He scanned the upper level where the entrance was to the room, hoping to spot Kelsey as she arrived. When he didn’t see her, he took in the room in case he’d missed her entrance and caught Norma Sue and Esther Mae watching him—again. He shot them another smile. They were making him a little nervous. He tugged at his collar and turned so that Steven blocked his view of them.

  Tiffany nudged his arm and leaned his way. “I guess I should have already warned you that the posse has its eyes on you.”

  “The posse?” he asked.

  Steven laughed and squeezed Tiffany’s waist. “He has no clue what you are talking about, Tiff.”

  She chuckled. “My sweet redheaded aunt and her friends, or I should say her cohorts, are the notorious Matchmakin’ Posse of Mule Hollow. They had a part in getting us together.” She looked at Steven with adoration and kissed his cheek. “And we couldn’t be happier now. I can tell you, though, we had our moments.”

  Brent had heard that there had been some older ladies meddling in their courtship. “They call them that?”

  “Oh yeah.” Steven nodded toward their table where they were having what looked to be a deep discussion. “Those three ladies are something else, and you, buddy, had better watch out. Speaking of which, when are you going to start dating again? It’s been way too long.”

  “Haven’t been in any rush.” Up until this afternoon, he hadn’t even been thinking about women—not after the last couple of dating disasters. Now he couldn’t get one particular mermaid out of his mind.

  “Oh, there’s Kelsey, finally,” Tiffany said, waving up toward the entrance.

  Tension coiled in Brent’s gut. Kelsey stood at the top of the steps that led down to the ballroom floor. She was looking their way, a vision in the ice-blue dress that reached just above her knees and swirled as she began walking down to them. Where the gold dress had hugged her every delicate curve, this dress skimmed her body and flirted about her legs. He couldn’t have looked away from her if he’d been hit by a cattle hauler.

  “Just so you know, you’ve done good for being a cowboy,” Steven said. “Saving Kelsey’s life like you did might get you past barriers one through five with her.”

  “Barriers?” Brent asked. His attention remained on Kelsey as she wove through the crowd, stopping to say a word here and there. Each time her soft lips lifted into a smile, tension coiled tighter inside him, tugging deep on emotions that were new to him. Emotions that told him there was something different about how she made him feel. Maybe it was because nothing seemed fake about her. He liked that. Liked it a lot because he was so tired of fake women it hurt.

  Steven gave a blunt laugh. “It’s simple with Kelsey. Her five Rules of Dating and Life are: no cowboys, no cowboys, no cowboys, no cowboys, and—”

  “No cowboys,” Brent finished for him. He’d heard what Norma Sue had said about a cowboy breaking her heart and locking it away. But—his heart sank—the look he’d seen in her eyes when she’d spotted his boots made sense now. It wasn’t that she’d been hurt by a cowboy and stopped dating in general—no, she’d just stopped dating cowboys.

  He looked at Tiffany, feeling that question in his gaze.

  She winked at him. “The best cowboys don’t give up that easy, though, do they, Brent?”

  He laughed with relief. “No, ma’am.” What had that cowboy done to make her turn against all of them?

  Whatever it was, seeing those amazing eyes across the crowd, Brent knew it wouldn’t matter. If there was one thing Brent understood about himself, it was that he liked a challenge.

  Steven nudged him and hiked a questioning brow. “Like I said, bud, when you gonna start dating again?”

  “After the last two fiascos, I guess I’ve been dragging my boots a bit.”

  “With good reason.” Tiffany frowned. “I’m sure it’s hard finding out someone is only after what you can give them financially,” she continued, then her voice dipped into teasing. “You know, given your bad luck with women, a posse of matchmakers picking someone for you is probably a good thing. They can spot gold diggers a mile away.”

  Kelsey made it to them through the maze of ribbon-tied chairs and ruffled tables topped with vases overflowing with an array of beautiful flowers. The room practically glowed with beauty, but all of it dimmed next to Kelsey. Brent’s knees grew weak when her gaze met his, and he was thankful Tiffany dragged her into a big hug that gave him a minute to find his footing again. Or so he thought until she looked at him over Tiffany’s shoulder and the ground shifted again beneath his feet.

  “I am so glad you are okay,” Tiffany said, releasing Kelsey after a moment. “We’ve been thanking Brent. He’s a real hero.”

  Kelsey looked uncomfortable. “Thanks again.” Even her brief smile knocked the breath out of him once again.

  Brent had met a lot of women in his twenty-eight years, and he’d never been affected like this before. “You look beautiful,” he blurted, suddenly feeling clumsy.

  She glanced down at the dress, then gave a tiny shoulder shrug. “It’s not as formal as Tiff wanted for this party, but at least this dress isn’t trying to drown me.”

  “You were in a bad way with that gold mermaid dress. I never thought about a dress being dangerous.”

  Tiffany linked one arm around Kelsey’s waist and squeezed her. “That was my fault! We were shopping and I talked her into it. Kelsey is much more laid back than that. Glamorous, just not flashy. And you’re right, Brent, I bet she did look like a mermaid.”

  He grinned at that. “I thought I was seeing things at first, and then she burst out of the water with all that blond hair—I’m glad I finally kicked myself in gear and came and got you.” She just looked at him with those big eyes—probably trying to figure him out.

  His fingers itched to run through that mane of hers, bury his face in it, and breathe deeply the sweet floral scent. Unable to resist, he picked up a lock of her hair and gently rubbed it between his fingers. It was pure silk, just as he’d thought. “You’re real, all right.”

  Steven cleared his throat and Brent dropped Kelsey’s hair like it was hot coal. What had come over him?

  Thoughts of how her thick hair had filled his hands when he’d reached for her in the water rolled through him. He wanted to draw her slowly into his arms again. His gaze dropped to her lips. He yanked his thoughts out of the dangerous territory it had gone and focused. “So, what do you do, Kelsey?”

  She inhaled sharply, as if she knew the direction of his thoughts. “I run Sunflower Bistro on the beach.”

  “A bistro, huh? Are cowboys welcome for lunch sometime?” he asked. When she hesitated, he raised his brows just enough to prod.

  “We get a few cowboys on the beach. But we don’t serve much steak.”

  “Not all cowboys like steak for lunch.”

  “Most do. I’m afraid I know a thing or two about cowboys.” Her defensiveness proved Steven was right.

  Brent didn’t like being stereotyped. “Not all cowboys are the same, you know. Some of us even have brains,” he challenged, more irritated than he had been in a very long time. If he could have found the cowboy that put that look in Kelsey’s eyes, he’d have tied him to a runaway bronc.

  Kelsey’s heart thundered as she became lost in Brent’s gaze. She swallowed hard. What was wrong with her? She’d made him mad. She felt like a fool.

  Good, because she was mad too—mad that the man drew her like a moth to a flame. The moth always came out on the bad end of the deal.

  Forcing her nerves down, she smiled at Brent. He’d saved her, after all. He deserved for her to be nice to him—despite being a cowboy. ”Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply . . .”

  “It’s okay.” His grin hitched to one side, but the tension tugged between them. “Are you feeling all right? You didn’t take on too much salt water?”

  Oh, that smile did funny things to her ins
ides. “I’m fine, thanks to you. It’s really embarrassing. I can swim . . .”

  “I’m not complaining.” He chuckled. “Though I’d rather you hadn’t been in trouble, that dress let me meet you sooner.”

  “Glad I could make your day,” she quipped. What else could she say? I love your chuckle and your eyes are amazing.

  Argh! Everything else faded into the background when he laughed. The sound, as deep as his eyes were brown. Oh my—Kelsey suddenly felt a headache forming.

  The lights in the overhead chandeliers suddenly dimmed as the band began playing a new song.

  “Hey, that’s our cue. Let’s liven up this party.” Steven nudged Brent, then took Tiffany by the hand. “I’m taking my soon-to-be-bride for a spin. You two join us.”

  With that, Steven swept Tiffany onto the dance floor into a lively two-step as the band began a rendition of an Alan Jackson favorite. Brent looked at her. “Join me?”

  “No. I think I’ll pass. I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

  “Chicken?” Brent prodded her.

  “You are impossible.” She was only half-teasing.

  His eyes warmed. “Dance with me, Kelsey.” He held out his hand.

  She started to refuse, but instead she placed her hand in his. Tingles of awareness shot through her like a Roman candle bouncing around.

  “That’s my girl,” he soothed like he had out in the water. It made her insides go soft.

  Still, she opened her mouth to inform him that she was not his girl. That she hadn’t meant to accept the dance. But then she was in his arms and all coherent thought fled as her feet followed his lead across the floor . . .

  Being enfolded by Brent’s muscular arms again, dancing beneath the softly glowing lights, had not been in Kelsey’s plans when she’d come to the rehearsal celebration. She knew the room was beautifully decorated for the wedding party. That it was filled with gorgeous floral arrangements, cream roses and an array of pale flowers that mixed elegance and country so as to give the room an extremely romantic feeling—but all of it had faded to the background the moment she’d spotted Brent in the crowded room. Her knees had wobbled as she’d walked down the stairs, and it had taken every ounce of self-control to not turn and run. What was wrong with her? She was not interested in anything that had to do with a romantic relationship. She wasn’t.