And then he caught her staring. As their gazes crashed into each other, Chelsea’s stomach rose and then dropped like a falling elevator. When he waved her over, it was too late to pretend like she hadn’t seen him. Really, if she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to pretend. So she took her aching feet and her racing heart over to table eight.
* * *
As Chelsea approached the table, Ethan stood and pulled out the empty chair next to him.
She really did look gorgeous in that red dress. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her since he’d entered the ballroom.
“Please join us,” he said when she got closer.
His invitation drew the others out of their private conversations. They looked over to see who he was talking to. When they saw Chelsea, the guys at the table fell all over themselves standing up. It was almost like something from an old-time cartoon.
“Thank you,” she said. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Of course not,” Ethan said. “Everyone, this is Chelsea Allen. She’s a friend of Juliette Lowell. She was helping her out setting up for the wedding tonight.”
He went around the table making introductions.
Lucy beamed at Chelsea as she put a proprietary hand on Zane’s arm. For the first time, Ethan didn’t mind his sister’s attempt to cozy up to Zane and claim her territory. Zane was a good enough friend to know better than to mess with his sister. Zane had known Lucy long enough to know she’d always had a thing for him, but with his reputation of playing fast and loose with hearts, Ethan had faith Zane wouldn’t cross that line because he’d never break Lucy’s heart.
Chelsea, on the other hand, was fair game. Since Ethan had no game and Zane was nothing but game and his girlfriend wasn’t here tonight, Lucy’s innocent attention might level the playing field. At least it might distract Zane enough to give Ethan a head start.
Huh. A head start for what? Maybe he was no better than Zane in that he wasn’t looking for anything more serious than some good company tonight. Did it stand to reason that since Chelsea was Juliette’s friend, maybe she should be off-limits, too?
“Chelsea, I’m so glad you’re here,” Lucy said. “I saw you earlier, but you were busy and I didn’t want to interrupt. I have so much to talk to you about. Zane, Chelsea is the fabulous interior designer I was telling you about. The one who has been giving me such great advice about converting the barn.”
Ethan didn’t like the greedy way Zane was devouring Chelsea with his eyes.
“An ace interior designer and a wedding planner?” Zane asked, all swagger and confidence. “Sounds like you’re multitalented.”
“Actually, I’m not a wedding planner at all,” she said as she unfurled her napkin and placed it in her lap. “I was simply an extra pair of hands helping out tonight. And I only offered some suggestions about the barn. It was nothing groundbreaking, but I was happy to help.”
“According to Lucy you helped crystallize her vision. I think she wants to hire you.”
“Oh, well, no.” Chelsea’s cheeks colored. “I’m only visiting for a while. I couldn’t commit to seeing a job through to the end. But Lucy has a brilliant mind. I’m sure she will take the suggestions I’ve offered and make them completely her own.”
“Where are you from?” Zane asked.
“England. Jules and I went to university together.”
“If you’re from England, why don’t you have an accent?” Lucy asked.
“I was wondering the same thing,” Ethan said. “Ninety-seven percent of the time you sound American, but sometimes the way you turn words and some of the words you use sound vaguely British.”
Chelsea’s nose wrinkled, drawing his attention to the spray of freckles that he was becoming quite fond of. She was the perfect blend of girl-next-door sweet and sexy self-confidence.
“Like what?”
“Like saying we went to university together,” Lucy said. “Here, we go to college.”
“Well, in the UK, we go to university.” She smiled and gave a cute quick lift of her right shoulder, one of her mannerisms that was becoming familiar. “I guess I speak the way I do because I have a lot of American friends.”
“Look at her,” Lucy said to no one in particular as she nodded toward Chelsea. “Who does she look like? She looks like someone and it’s been driving me crazy. Who is it?”
Lucy glanced at Ethan. He shook his head. Granted, Chelsea was a beautiful woman, but she didn’t remind him of anyone. She had a look that seemed unique to her alone and it, along with her mannerism and Britishisms, was only one of the things he found so alluring about her.
Lucy sighed. “It will come to me—” The music changed into a lively country tune. “Oh! I love this song. Come dance with me, Zane.”
After Lucy dragged Zane onto the dance floor, goading him into some sort of group line dance, the other two couples drifted back into their worlds, leaving him and Chelsea alone amidst the wedding’s jubilant chaos.
The music was loud and Chelsea was still eating her dinner; the combination made it difficult to carry on a conversation. Finally, when she set down her silverware and pushed away her plate, Ethan was at a loss for conversation starters. He’d never been one for shooting the breeze and he didn’t have the patience for small talk. But sitting there imitating an uncommunicative log didn’t feel right, either. So he asked her the first thing that came to mind.
“Did you hear they caught the burglar?”
“Really? The one you mistook me for?” She cocked a brow and smiled at him.
“I suppose I deserve that, but in my defense, I was only looking out for Jules. It’s not every night that I catch someone breaking and entering in through the bathroom window.”
“That’s the only reason I’m not holding it against you.”
She was surprisingly easy to talk to, blending just enough sass and good humor that he discovered she didn’t take herself too seriously. Something shifted in that moment and they fell into an easy rhythm. The song ended too soon and Lucy came back without Zane. She settled herself at the table and inserted herself into their conversation.
“So, I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo,” Lucy said, leaning in.
What the—“Why do you want a tattoo?” And more important, why do you feel the need to discuss it right now?
“Why not, Ethan?” Lucy rolled her eyes. “Why should I expect you to understand? You’ve never done anything spontaneous in your entire life.”
He could be spontaneous. The only reason he wasn’t was because someone had to be responsible. Their brother, Jude, was making money riding bulls for a living, and Lucy had been in school and then in California and now she was back in Celebration making noise about this barn. That left Ethan to run the family’s Triple C Ranch. It was hard work that required a strict routine, and routines didn’t leave much room for spontaneity.
That was fine with him.
He wasn’t going to defend his work ethic. Not that it would matter. Lucy was carrying on about the tattoo again.
“Yeah, I saw this one. It was a Sanskrit saying or something like that.” She was studying her fingernails as she talked. “I have no idea what it said. It was on this very classy woman.” Lucy looked up and leaned in even closer, as if what she was about to say was top secret. “Okay, confession time. Tabloids are my guilty pleasure. Especially the European ones. Don’t judge. I have to look at those on the internet because I can’t get them here. But anyway, this poor woman got caught in a majorly compromising position, if you know what I mean.”
Ethan shifted impatiently. He had no idea what she meant and frankly he didn’t care. He tried to catch Lucy’s eye to send the nonverbal message to stop already, but Lucy wouldn’t look at him. She was talking to Chelsea.
“Yeah, the story was something abo
ut her ex-boyfriend going rogue and publishing their sex tape. Pretty humiliating, huh? But I digress. That’s how I saw her tat.”
Oh, hell. He loved his sister, but sometimes she had no shame. Why the hell was she talking about sex tapes and tattoos at a wedding and with someone she barely knew? Chelsea was obviously embarrassed by it because she had turned as pale as the white tablecloth and was sitting ramrod straight in her chair.
“Lucy, really?” Ethan said. “Stop.” He turned to Chelsea. “I apologize on her behalf—”
“No, it’s okay, Ethan.” Chelsea cleared her throat. “So, Lucy, did you actually watch this tape?”
Lucy scrunched up her face as if she was truly disgusted by the suggestion—despite the fact that she was the one who brought up the subject.
“Oh! No way. I didn’t want to watch it. Plus, I was afraid if I clicked on it I would get a virus on my computer or my phone. Is it possible to get a virus on your phone?”
“Yes,” Chelsea insisted. “Be careful about that. Phone viruses will erase all your photos and contacts and steal all your passwords.”
Hmm. He’d never heard of a phone virus, and he had a sneaking suspicion Chelsea was messing with Lucy, which would serve her right.
“Don’t watch things like that, okay?” Chelsea said. “No good can come of it. If this so-called boyfriend released that tape without the woman’s consent—that’s just wrong. Sometimes guys do that to shame women. It’s just wrong.”
What kind of a jerk would do something like that?
“I did see the pictures, though.” Lucy shrugged and she pursed her lips. “That’s how I saw this particular tattoo. I mean, it was really different. It was classy.”
“Lucy, just stop, okay?” Ethan said. He looked around, trying to locate Zane, hoping he would come back and distract Lucy. Right about now he would pay him to dance with his sister.
“A lot of people have Sanskrit tattoos,” Chelsea said. “It’s sort of a thing right now. Everybody’s getting them.”
“Everybody?” Lucy said. “Does that mean you have a Sanskrit tattoo?”
“Seriously, Lucy,” he said. “Stop. End of this discussion. Chelsea, how about that dance you promised me?”
* * *
Lucy knew.
She knew.
Bloody hell. She’d figured it out and Chelsea was nearly paralyzed by the thought of what Lucy might do with that info.
Her heart thumped wildly and her legs felt like rubber as she followed Ethan out onto the dance floor away from Lucy. If Ethan hadn’t asked her to dance, would Lucy have aired that bit of dirty laundry right there in front of everyone?
The grilling about her accent was bad enough. The fake American accent thing was only supposed to be used on rare occasion and when she was in a predicament. The Chelsea Allen persona was a means to an end, an alter ego to throw people—mostly drunk men—off the scent of Lady Chelsea Ashford Alden. If she had known she would be interacting with Juliette’s friends—if Ethan hadn’t surprised her and thrown her into survival mode—she would’ve thought better of using the fake accent. Now she was stuck, because she couldn’t very well tell them she was just kidding. Life tended to get messy when things got real.
The only reason she hadn’t excused herself from this conversation was because she thought playing it cool might throw Lucy off. Of course, she didn’t have a way to get back to Juliette’s until the wedding was over and it was too late to hide in the lobby corner, but that was beside the point. If she left the reception now, even to take a long walk around the grounds, she’d all but confirm Lucy’s theory that she was, indeed, the hapless woman with the classy tattoo.
A spiral of Sanskrit words inked permanently on her derriere.
As if the situation couldn’t get worse, the music shifted to a slow tune as they stepped onto the dance floor. Ethan didn’t give her time to object. He simply pulled her into his arms and they proceeded to sway to the country ballad.
“I’m sorry about what happened back there at the table,” he said. “I hope she didn’t embarrass you.”
He smelled good.
His cheek rested against her temple. The nearness of him, the feel of his solid arms around her, gave her the momentary delusion that she was safe. If she closed her eyes and blocked out everything but the feel of him and the smell of his citrusy aftershave, she could believe it. Well, if not for that compulsive voice in her head reminding her she was anything but safe, because wild card Lucy could expose her at whim.
In a sense she was safer on the dance floor...in Ethan’s arms.
“Your sister does tend to fixate on things, doesn’t she?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. She can be pretty intense.”
“Do you have any other brothers and sisters?” Chelsea asked, eager to change the subject.
“A brother, Jude. He’s a professional bull rider, off traveling the world.”
“Two cowboys in one family?” she said. “You dance very well, considering.”
“Considering what?”
“Considering I thought cowboys only two-stepped.”
“Don’t believe all the tall tales you hear,” he said.
“Are you going to shatter my romantic notions?”
“You’re a romantic, are you?” he asked.
He shifted his hand to the small of her back. She could feel the warmth of him and it unleashed a shiver of something that resembled desire.
“I suppose I was once. Not anymore.”
“Why not? Did another cowboy ride off with your heart?”
No. Hadden Hastings was about as far from a cowboy as a man could be and—“I’ve told you something you didn’t know about me. Now it’s your turn to tell me something I don’t know about you.”
“Like what?”
She thought for a moment. As she did, her gaze drifted to the table. Lucy wasn’t sitting there anymore and Chelsea couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.
“Have you lived anywhere other than Celebration?” she finally asked.
“I moved to Chicago right after college.”
“Chicago? That’s a surprise.”
“Why?”
“I guess I never pegged you for a big city kind of guy. What brought you to Chicago?”
She felt him stiffen a little and pull back ever so slightly. “My wife got a job. It was an offer we couldn’t refuse.”
His wife. Oh.
Inviting the specter of his wife was a sure way to kill any possible romantic notions. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. So she gave in to that part of her that was overrun with morbid curiosity and could not close the door on his past.
“Her name was Molly, right? You mentioned her that day at the barn.”
“Yep.”
“What was her job?”
He was quiet long enough for Chelsea to wonder if she was being too nosy.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “We don’t have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“No, it’s okay. She and I are still good friends. I don’t mind talking about her. She is a pharmaceutical sales rep and she still lives in Chicago. We were high school sweethearts and we were probably too young to realize we had no business getting married since we didn’t even know who we were or what we wanted out of life, but that didn’t stop us. We got hitched right out of college. We had agreed that we would stay in Celebration and take over the Triple C, my family’s ranch.”
“Triple C?” she asked. “Does C stand for Campbell?”
“It does. My granddad was the one who founded the ranch. He named it after my dad and his brothers. I always wanted to come back here after college and work with the horses. But Molly wanted the big city.”
“I love horses. It’s been so
long since I’ve been riding.”
“We’ll have to go sometime.”
“Thank you. I would love that.”
She stared up into his blue, blue eyes as they swayed together to the slow country love song. The singer was crooning something about his eyes being the only thing he didn’t want to take off his lover. In a flash she imagined Ethan undressing her. The feel of Ethan’s hand on the small of her back and the thought of him making love to her sent a ripple of longing shivering through her.
She needed to get the conversation back on platonic ground. The best way to do that was to talk about his ex-wife.
“I’m sorry, I interrupted you with questions about the ranch. So you wanted to stay in Celebration, but you ended up moving to Chicago?”
“Yes. Molly’s dream job came along and we moved to Chicago. We came back to Celebration and we got a divorce.” He shrugged, as if shaking off the hurt. “That’s when I learned you could love someone but never really know that person. I thought we wanted the same things. But we didn’t. It sort of felt like bait and switch. But in the end I knew one of us was going to be miserable if we stayed together.” He shrugged again. “We were just kids when we made those plans. People change. How can you know someone who doesn’t even know what she wants?”
His words hit home. She didn’t know what to say. So she waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. So they danced, silently swaying to the love song.
Finally, he asked, “What about you? What’s your story?”
On some level, she’d known a question like that was coming. That’s how intimacy worked. When two people were getting to know each other and one confided something personal... She knew it was her turn to offer something...to meet him halfway by sharing something of herself. But what was she supposed to say about herself? No, it wasn’t a good idea to encourage this...this...whatever it was that made her want to put her head on his shoulder and lose herself in him.
Her trepidation was validated when she spied the wedding photographer snapping pictures of people on the dance floor. Lucy had shattered her false sense of security when she’d recognized her; there was a chance others might be familiar with the scandal, too. That’s why Chelsea didn’t want her picture in Shay and Kyle’s wedding album.
The Cowboy's Runaway Bride Page 8
