by Elsa Nickle
She forgot any possible reason why this shouldn’t happen. In fact, Laurel’s only thought was, Why haven’t we done this before?
And then his lips were on hers, and she couldn’t think anything coherent at all.
Every move was soft and hesitant at first, but then he pulled her closer and she kissed him harder and soon neither of them could breathe. Their chemistry was good. No—much better than good. Michelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel. Monet’s waterlilies. Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. Laurel had never experienced anything better.
But, eventually, she had to come up for air. And when she did, all her sense and self-consciousness came flooding in. She took a shaky step back.
So, okay. Ethan kissed her. This meant he was attracted to her, which was amazing. She could power a small city with how happy that made her. But he was still the guy who had his life together when she didn’t. He was still the guy who was going back to his established career in California in a couple weeks. What did this kiss mean to him? Did he want to start something serious, or was he just caught up in the moment? The way he was gazing at Laurel made her think that his feelings were the real deal, but maybe it was just a bit of temporary, distracting fun for him.
Laurel inhaled deeply. She had to say something.
“I need to get some air.”
She spun and headed out the front door without looking back, like the chicken she was.
It felt like she had just finished a hard workout. Her heart raced, her hands felt sweaty, and she was positive her complexion was as blotchy as could be.
She had only been inside for a couple minutes. So much had shifted with her emotions—it didn’t seem right that barely anything had changed on the front lawn. Same grass, same trees, and almost all the same people standing around. Of course, the sun was sinking closer to the hills every minute, and more cars filled up the dirt pasture on the side of the house. Kitty’s family must have gone to find their seats in the back, but Ethan’s brothers and their dates lingered in the front yard, and the bride and groom still modeled for pictures by a cottonwood tree. Oh, and Ethan’s grandmother was there in her pink floral dress, making a beeline for Laurel.
Granny held out her arms. “Honey, you look marvelous!”
Laurel was pulled into a quick hug. Her legs were still shaky, but maybe she could blame it on her heels. “Thank you, so do you.”
“I suppose Florida fashions work in the desert after all.” Her eyes crinkled. “Where’s our Ethan?”
Laurel tried to act casual at the mention of his name together with the word our. “Last I saw, he was in the house.”
“Thank you. I just want to remind him not to give his brother too hard of a time today.” She walked past Laurel, but then turned back. “I’m really glad you are here, sweety.”
Laurel’s footing suddenly felt a little stronger. “Me too.”
Granny nodded and gave her one of those twinkly smiles, then turned and strode into the house.
With Granny giving some sort of talk to Ethan, he might not be joining Laurel for several minutes. And maybe that was good. Maybe they both needed to sort out what just happened between them.
How was he feeling right now? Did he regret kissing her? Were things going to be awkward now? Would he just want to run back to Santa Barbara and never speak to her again?
Laurel didn’t know where to focus. The bride and groom were doing kissing pictures, and the brothers were standing wherever she looked. Jaxon was a little ways off, talking to his daughter and checking her basket full of white petals. Laurel gravitated near Malia again and tried to still her body and mind, but her eyes kept wandering. She tracked a car parking in the lot, until something else over there grabbed her attention.
A man was ducking behind the closest car, taking pictures with the most enormous lens on a camera Laurel had ever seen. She squinted and took a step in his direction. “Did they hire more than one photographer?”
Malia followed her line of sight and stiffened. “Oh, I can’t believe this.” She fixed her eyes on the man and stomped toward the lot. The hidden photographer didn’t stop taking pictures. In fact, now that he had been spotted, he stepped out from behind the car to get clearer shots.
Jaxon saw his fiancée moving like a woman on a mission. “Hey, babe, what’s wrong?” He stepped toward her, and the wedding photographer stopped shooting.
Everyone nearby was catching on that something was amiss. They shot each other puzzled looks.
Malia stalked toward the stranger taking pictures. “I’ll take care of it.”
Dillon had his arm around Skye, who was following Malia’s trajectory with her eyes. “Is that the paparazzi?”
There was a moment of stillness, and then everyone moved. Jaxon ran to join Malia, scooping up Audrey on his way. Dillon and Skye fell into step behind them, and Preston, the youngest brother, cracked his knuckles and strutted toward the man from a different angle. The real wedding photographer froze in place, but the bride and groom stumbled toward the action, concern on both their faces.
Laurel ambled toward the action as well, following the herd without thinking. Now she saw another photographer a few cars away and a third right next to him. All three men were taking rapid-fire pictures of the approaching group.
Malia reached the first one, Jaxon not far behind. “You all need to leave before I call the police.”
The first man had dark, curly hair and an oily smile. “Malia, baby. I just want to take a few photographs. Just a few and then I’ll be gone.” His voice was higher than Laurel expected.
Malia winced in distaste. “Don’t call me baby. You need to leave right now. I know my rights, and this is private property.”
Like moths to a flame, a handful of newly arrived guests were drawn to the action. Ethan finally appeared through the front door, seemingly confused when he spotted Laurel and his family by the parking lot. He made his way toward the group, and Laurel tried not to think about how she would feel when he was closer—and how he might react to her now. She was almost glad that there were other things to worry about at the moment, even if it was a trio of uninvited fame-seekers.
The closest invading cameraman licked his lips. “Just a few shots of this wedding. It’s all I need.”
Jaxon crossed his arms. “No. You heard the lady. What you need to do is leave.”
The other photographers swarmed closer now, unbelievably still snapping pictures. Ethan appeared at Laurel’s side, slightly out of breath. He put his hand on the small of her back and whispered in her ear, “What’s going on?”
She shivered from the contact and familiarity, even under the circumstances. At least he wouldn’t be avoiding her for the rest of the evening, but did he know what his touch did to her? She turned and whispered back, “Paparazzi.”
Confusion was still written clearly on Ethan’s face, and honestly, Laurel felt the same. Why had the paparazzi—and so many of them—descended on Landon’s wedding? Did Malia’s presence warrant something like that? Laurel just couldn’t picture the headlines. Young Hollywood Starlet Attends Wedding? They might as well do a piece about how long it takes paint to dry.
The three uninvited guests moved even closer together, and the other two finally stopped shooting. The older, balding one held his camera at his hip. “Hey, listen. This is a big scoop. We can work something out. We can pay you for the pictures, and maybe split the profits with you fifty-fifty.” He stared hard at Malia.
She took a step back. “A big scoop? What are you talking about?”
The last photographer, an unusually short guy, piped up. “Aw, come on! We’ve done our research. We know this isn’t really Landon Wyle’s wedding. It’s Jaxon Wyle’s wedding. It’s a front.”
Dillon’s gaze ricocheted between all three invading men like they were aliens. “A front? What are you talking about?”
The balding guy shook his head. “Nice try, but when we got news of this wedding, we looked into it. Landon Wyle and Kate Benton were alrea
dy married last year. We saw the records—so this can’t be their wedding. And if it’s not their wedding, then whose is it? Maybe a certain actress that wanted to throw everyone off the chase with the wrong names and dates.” He returned his hard stare to Malia.
The irritated starlet barely had enough time to roll her eyes before Preston strutted toward the paparazzi, chest out. “You guys are dumber than a box of hammers. Landon and Kitty eloped last year, and this is their family wedding. Jaxon and Malia aren’t getting married until next month.”
Wait, Landon and Kitty were already married? Laurel snuck a peek at Ethan to see if he understood what was going on, but his expression was unreadable.
When Laurel scanned the rest of the group, it was like a bomb detonated—every member of the small group blasted by what Preston said and reeling in their own way.
Landon closed his eyes tight, and Kitty placed her hands over her flushed cheeks. She looked around, making eye contact with the handful of guests that weren’t family. “Please don’t tell my parents or my sister. It would break their hearts if they knew they’d missed our actual wedding.”
Dillon punched Preston in the bicep. “Nice going, loudmouth.”
Preston flinched back and rubbed his arm. “What? I was just setting them straight. It’s not like you weren’t there too. You signed as a witness.”
Dillon shot Preston a death-stare, but Jaxon flashed a huge smile and lifted his hands in the air as he addressed his brothers. “Let the record show, it wasn’t my kid who spilled the beans. It wasn’t my kid.” He turned to Audrey and gave her a high five. “You still have to keep the secret though, okay, sweetheart?”
She nodded gravely.
The first photographer frowned. “So, this isn’t the secret wedding of Malia Kalama?”
Malia stepped forward and gestured to her outfit in one violent motion. “Does it look like I’m wearing a white dress? No, this is not my wedding. It’s her wedding”—she pointed to Kitty, who now leaned red-faced against Landon—“and you are ruining it. Now get out of here, before I press charges.”
The unwanted photographers looked at each other, and after a moment, the balding one shrugged. “Sorry, our mistake. Have a good evening.” Then everyone watched as they got in their cars and drove away.
Malia’s lip curled. “The nerve of those—” She turned to the bride, and her entire body deflated. “Kitty, I’m so sorry.”
Kitty was trying to hold back her tears. “It’s not your fault. And at least it wasn’t in front of everyone.” Landon buried her in a hug, and she blew out a shaky breath. “I’d better go inside and get myself together.”
The group slowly dispersed until there was nobody left but Ethan and Laurel. Ethan didn’t speak, didn’t move. He stared at the ground, his body getting visibly tighter with every breath. Laurel could feel emotion radiating from him, and she was less and less comfortable. It seemed that their kitchen run-in was forgotten now.
Laurel leaned toward him. “Are you okay? Did you not want me to know about the elopement? I swear I won’t tell anyone—”
He exploded. “I didn’t know about the elopement. And it looks like, besides Kitty’s parents and maybe her sister, I’m the only family member in the dark.”
Laurel’s eyes widened, and she froze. Then she dropped her chin and blew out a breath. “Ethan … oh wow. I’m so—”
“My own brother got married, and not only did he not invite me, he didn’t even tell me about it.”
Laurel’s heart was breaking for him. As an only child, she couldn’t imagine what this felt like. Ethan had said he didn’t feel as close to his brothers lately as he once did, but this had to sting. And they’d looked so happy a few minutes ago. She stepped in front of Ethan but didn’t know how to comfort him, or even if she should.
Ethan shot daggers toward the ranch. “And look around. Did any of them stay to explain or apologize or anything? No. They pushed me out, like they always do.”
Laurel grabbed a fistful of her dress. “Maybe they were trying to make sure Kitty was okay. I mean, she looked pretty upset. Or maybe they had to make sure everything was ready. The wedding is starting soon.”
Ethan shifted his hard gaze to Laurel. He’d never looked at her that way before, like she was just a part of the unforgiving scenery. But then his eyes moved toward the sinking sun. “You’re right. Whatever this charade is, it’s starting soon. So let’s go.”
He raised a stiff elbow, and Laurel wrapped her arm around his. She tried to give him comforting squeezes on the way to the backyard, but he was as unyielding as granite. His head faced obstinately forward, cowboy hat angled to shield his expression, and he did not speak. The longer the silence stretched, the more unsure Laurel was about how to break it. So she didn’t. They simply followed the path to the backyard.
The white seats and wooden benches faced a large gazebo framed with feathery leaves and pale flowers. Beautiful cottonwood trees swayed in the breeze, shedding their light bits of fluff over the proceedings like a blessing from nature. Almost all the guests were seated, laughing with one another, fidgeting in their seats, smiling. Beyond the wooden gazebo was the most spectacular view—hills covered in sagebrush picking up ever-changing colors from the setting sun. Even with all the tense emotion pouring from Ethan, Laurel’s hands temporarily ached for her painting supplies and a canvas.
Ethan led her to their reserved seats in the front. She sat beside Skye and Dillon, and the sudden feeling that she did not belong rushed through her and settled around her like a lump of modeling clay. Ethan was the only person at this wedding that she knew at all, and their relationship was … well, what was it? It definitely wasn’t certain, even after one amazing kiss. How did she get here, sitting at the end of the front row, maybe blocking the view of people who knew the bride and groom better? She was sitting with the family for goodness’ sake, and she barely knew any of them.
She peeked sideways at Ethan. After what he just told her, it was possible he felt the same way, like he didn’t belong. But at least he knew these people and was known by them. Laurel was nothing to anyone. Just a cleaned-up girl from Tintown; a body in a seat.
Still, it was hard not to get wrapped up in the beauty of the evening. Little Audrey beamed as she sprinkled rose petals down the path. Soft music came from somewhere, and the look that Landon gave his bride when she came into view was magical, powerful. It erased whatever sadness or worry they were feeling before. What would it be like to have Ethan look at her like that? It was probably best if she didn’t let her mind go down that path.
The bride walked down the aisle on the arm of her smiling father, and Laurel’s heart twinged at the sight. What must it be like, having a loving father? It was probably best not to let her mind go down that path either. She would never have a moment like that.
The Wyle boys down the row all removed their cowboy hats for the wedding service, including Ethan, though he was last to do it. After dropping his hat in his lap, he sat stiffly in his seat, barely moving at all. Laurel wished she could peek into his mind, so she could know what to do. He had helped her so often in the last week and a half. She would love to return the favor. But maybe he was dealing with too much emotional baggage. He hadn’t even looked at her since before the ceremony. Maybe the best thing she could do for him was to leave him alone.
If she didn’t know better, Laurel would have sworn this was Landon and Kitty’s first time getting married. The vows were so emotional, even the minister got choked up. What could have been their reason for eloping last year? Was it a dare? Was Kitty secretly pregnant? It didn’t matter, but Laurel couldn’t help but wonder.
What Laurel did know was that something big was going down between Ethan and his brothers. And again, she felt that lump-of-clay feeling that she was an extra that shouldn’t be in his life right now. Yes, he had kissed her. She would never forget that magical moment as long as she lived. But one kiss didn’t make her Ethan’s girlfriend. Of course, she could ho
pe. She could hope that whenever he sorted through his feelings toward his brothers, he would then sort through his feelings for Laurel—and he would want to start something real with her. Maybe they would only have a couple weeks together, or maybe they could work something out long distance. Or maybe he would tell her to forget it, and he would fly back to Santa Barbara, never to be seen again.
It was a strange thing to be half-enjoying the wedding, and half-searching her heart for what she wanted with Ethan and wracking her brain for what to say to him. He had to figure out this hurt with his family first and foremost—but right now, she didn’t know how should she act toward him. She didn’t know if she was his girlfriend or not. Should she hug him? Kiss him again? Give him space? Laurel wanted to help, but she didn’t know how.
As soon as Landon and Kitty were pronounced man and wife and walking back up the aisle to the cheers and applause of their friends and family, Ethan finally stirred.
Chapter Twelve
Nobody cared. Not a single one of them. It was one thing when none of them came to his graduation, but getting married without even telling him? It was a low blow, one that Ethan was having trouble shaking. And to top it off, nobody had even made eye contact with him to see if he was all right after the paparazzi had blurted out their little secret. Laurel had tried, a little. But she didn’t understand. How could she?
The entire ceremony was like a sucker punch to the gut. Ethan had made it through, barely, but now, for the first time in a long time, he needed a drink to help him swallow the bitter taste of his pride. As soon as Landon and Kitty made their way to the reception area out back, Ethan got up to go to the bar.
He went to the end of the aisle only to find Jax and his daughter, Audrey, standing in his way.
“Listen—” Jax lifted his hands as if getting ready for a lecture, but Ethan didn’t want to hear it, and he certainly didn’t want to fight in front of Laurel and Audrey.
