The Maverick's Bridal Bargain

by Christy Jeffries

  A free what?

  The air thickened and his boots felt as if they were squeezing his feet into action. Cole had never had a professional massage, but judging by the photo on the glossy brochure, it involved candles, rose petals and getting naked under a sheet.

  Vivienne’s cheeks were stained crimson, and when Cole took the clipboard to fill out his contact information, he noticed the blush had spread down her neck and below the V-neck of her dress. His fingers shook slightly as he wrote down his name and number, but luckily Vivienne didn’t see because she was too busy walking toward the next booth, her box of chocolates tucked under her arm.

  Cole handed the clipboard back to the spa employee, who promised to be in contact. Crap. Why hadn’t he given them a bogus email address? The last thing he needed was to be reminded of the awkward fantasy of getting Vivienne on a massage table.

  Unfortunately, the next vendor booth was for a travel company, and as Cole approached his “bride,” an eager middle-aged woman was midpitch about all the fabulous honeymoon destinations they offered. The agent turned toward him and gestured toward Vivienne. “If you could spend the most romantic week of your life with this lovely lady, where would it be?”

  His throat muscles flexed and he had to remind himself how to gulp in more oxygen. At this exact second, the answer to that question was the nearest motel room. But Cole was saved from stuttering out an answer when he spotted a man down the aisle using a wobbly ladder to secure a fallen banner.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said before rushing off. When he got to the man, the first thing Cole did was hold the ladder steady. “Can I give you a hand?”

  “Thank you, young man.” The gentleman’s shiny bald head was a shade of dark mahogany and the silver of his thin mustache suggested his advanced years. He was dressed impeccably in a gray, pin-striped suit with a bright pink handkerchief square poking out his breast pocket. Instead of descending the ladder, though, he finished yanking a zip tie through one of the grommets.

  Cole would’ve preferred the elderly man come down and let him climb the rickety ladder instead. But he didn’t want to insult the man’s pride. When the hot-pink sign, which matched the man’s handkerchief, was finally in place, it read A LaVish Affair and Cole racked his brain for where he’d heard of that name before.

  Stepping to the side as the man came down the last few rungs, Cole was surprised to see Vivienne nearby.

  “If it isn’t Vivienne Shuster.” The dapper gentleman beamed a bright white smile before looking over each shoulder. “I don’t feel any fire breathing down my neck, so I’m assuming that dragon of a boss of yours isn’t with you.”

  Vivienne wagged a finger before stepping forward and giving the man a kiss on his cheek. She turned to Cole. “May I introduce the famous Rich LaRue of A LaVish Affair.”

  Cole extended his hand to Rich. He’d known he’d heard the name somewhere. Vivienne was certainly chummy with the guy who was supposedly her company’s biggest competitor. “Nice to meet you.”

  Rich returned the handshake, his rich brown eyes darting between Vivienne’s and Cole’s name tags. “Looks like congratulations are in order.”

  “No, no, no!” Vivienne’s hand slapped against her chest, covering up her sticker. “You know me, Rich. Always the wedding planner, never the bride.”

  The man’s silver eyebrows lifted.

  “Estelle wanted me to attend, but it was a last-minute thing and she was too late to get vendor status, so my friend Cole volunteered to come with me and the people at the door just assumed we were a couple and, well...” While Vivienne’s explanation trailed off, Rich’s forehead remained creased. And a knot formed in Cole’s stomach at her emphasis of the word friend.

  “The only part of that story that makes any sense is Estelle doing something last minute. Darling,” Rich called over to an older woman in a frothy pink dress, also color coordinated with their booth. “Vivienne Shuster is here, and I’m pretty sure she’s working as an undercover bride to get a different view of the industry. Brilliant strategy. Just brilliant.”

  “Hi, Glory,” Vivienne smiled and waved at the lady who must be Rich’s wife. “I’m not really undercover.”

  Rich leaned in toward Cole. “I’ve been telling her for years that she’s wasting her talents working for Estelle.”

  Cole had only seen her in action with one wedding—not counting his own—and had already deduced that for himself.

  Vivienne chuckled and patted Rich’s hand. “You flatter me when you have potential clients you should be flattering instead.”

  “Time to get back to work.” Rich straightened his lapels, then winked at Vivienne before stage-whispering, “And, don’t worry. I won’t blow your cover.”

  As they walked away, Cole tried to stick by Vivienne’s side as she navigated them through a herd of ladies decked out in bridal gowns. A veil whipped at his face, catching him in the eye, and he lost sight of her for a second. But then her warm, strong hand clamped onto his and he held on for dear life as she pulled him to safety.

  “Don’t worry,” she said as they moved into a booth occupied by an empty dentist chair and a sign advertising that Dr. Smile was the leading orthodontist in Billings. Vivienne squeezed his arm. “Your nightmare isn’t coming true. You’re not in danger of being forced to marry one of them.”

  Cole grinned at the reference, and not just because he wanted Dr. Smile to see that he didn’t need braces before his upcoming wedding. This morning, when he’d told her about that, he’d said the word nightmare, but it really had been just a dream. It had even been a pleasant one where he was standing at the altar, excited to see an unknown bride walking down the aisle toward him. He’d startled awake before he’d figured out her identity, and the uncertainty of what the dream might mean had prevented him from going back to sleep. He nodded toward the mass of women moving toward the rear of the convention center like a cluster of fluffy white clouds. “Why are they in costume?”

  “Because the fashion show is getting ready to start.”

  He couldn’t stop from cringing. “Please tell me we can skip that part of the expo.”

  “Why? They’re also going to be showing tons of bridesmaid dresses and all the latest flower-girl accessories.”

  Cole forced a chuckle, hoping she would join in. When she didn’t, he said, “You know, you do a really good job of keeping a straight face when you’re teasing.”

  “Who says I’m teasing?”

  Chapter Nine

  Most of the vendors were taking down their booths by the time Vivienne passed out only her fifth business card of the day. And it was to a florist out of Whitefish, not even a potential client. But the expo hadn’t been a total waste. She’d gotten plenty of ideas and had actually enjoyed getting to play the bride for a change. A cosmetician providing complimentary makeup consultations even applied a set of fake lashes when Vivienne had a beauty makeover.

  “I’m starving,” Cole said as he hoisted a free canvas tote higher on his shoulder. They had been plied with swag bags and giveaway items every time they’d turned around. “Let’s go grab some dinner.”

  “I don’t see how you can be so hungry. I’m pretty sure you hit every catering booth in this place, filling up on samples,” Vivienne teased, trying not to bat her long false eyelashes at him.

  “C’mon. That wasn’t real food. Just little bites here and there. I haven’t had anything substantial since breakfast.”

  As they exited the convention center, Vivienne was relieved to see the sun was barely starting to set. She hadn’t intended to stay so long, yet they’d practically closed the place down. Now that the pretense of being a carefree bride was fading away, her appetite was returning. Or, at least, the stress of spending more alone time with Cole was returning.

  What she should do was check into the hotel, take a long shower, order some room service and op
en up the complimentary bottle of wine she’d gotten from a local vineyard that doubled as a wedding venue. Instead, she let Cole and the scent of herbs and sizzling meat guide her to the steakhouse across the street.

  Neon lights curved around the arched entrance, and, when Cole opened the door for her, Vivienne didn’t know if she was going into a restaurant or a honky-tonk. It soon became obvious that not only was it an eating establishment, it was one in high demand. When the hostess told them that there was a thirty-minute wait for a party of two, Vivienne shrugged and expected Cole to suggest a burger place down the road. He surprised her by saying, “Let’s go grab a drink in the bar.”

  A flush of panic raced through her and she wondered what Cole meant by grabbing a drink. Having dinner with a client, even a pretend one, might arguably count as a business meeting and she could convince herself that she was still well within the bounds of professional behavior. However, sitting in a bar with a single man on a Saturday night had to cross some sort of ethical line.

  Before she could think of which line that was, a server passed by with a tray weighted down by plates of prime rib au jus, mashed potatoes and creamed corn. Vivienne’s mouth watered and her nose twitched as she followed the food into the depths of the restaurant. Cole caught up to her, and she felt his hand on her lower back steering her toward the lounge instead of the dining area.

  The bar was equally crowded, but a high table opened up when another couple stood, hoisting a blinking pager overhead like they’d just won a trophy. Vivienne’s stomach growled as she took a seat and Cole handed her a cocktail menu.

  “Do you want to split an appetizer?” he asked, right as a woman wearing a motorcycle club vest and a tiara studded with plastic jewels spelling out Fifty and Nifty stood up to take a picture with the rest of the female bikers at the table nearby.

  Unfortunately, the woman stumbled and got herself tangled up in a nest of birthday balloons tied to her chair. There was a loud pop, followed by a clinking sound before something thudded, and glass shattered on the ground. Several of the woman’s friends—who wore similar leather vests and matching black T-shirts emblazoned with Judy’s 50th Birthday Ride—shrieked, and Cole jumped off his high-backed stool and sprang into action. Within seconds, he had Judy untangled and was already kneeling down, picking up shards of a martini glass before the restaurant staff could respond.

  A waiter used a damp washcloth to wipe up the spilled drink and Cole went to the bar, returning with a fresh neon-blue cocktail for the embarrassed birthday woman. He even offered to take a picture of the group using her phone.

  The women gathered back into position for the photo and Cole counted to three.

  “Here.” One of Judy’s friends handed a camera to the waiter. “Will you get one of us with the sexy cowboy?”

  It was hard to tell with the dim interior lighting, but Cole’s cheeks had turned a shade pinker. Still, what did the guy expect when he went around town in a cowboy hat and scuffed boots, dressed like a rodeo hunk? Vivienne bit back her laughter when the oldest member of the group patted Cole’s rear end as he walked away.

  When he returned to their table, Vivienne was still smiling. “Now I know why your family calls you Sergeant Save-the-Day.”

  Cole’s blush actually deepened and he cleared his throat. “Well, then maybe you can explain it, because I have no idea why they do that.”

  “Really? No idea?” Vivienne made a pfshh sound. At Cole’s blank look, she continued. “Let’s see. Since we only have thirty minutes to kill, I’ll limit my examples to today’s rescues alone. First there was the mother fussing with her stroller in the registration line. You got the baby blanket unstuck from the wheel for her. Then there were the two girls who were fighting over the flower-girl wands at that florist’s booth. That took some smooth talking, but you bought them both their own crowns. And what about the older guy using a cane and tiring out quickly? You got him one of those motorized scooters available at the entrance and came riding to his rescue, like a cowboy on his trusty, battery-powered steed.”

  “They needed help.”

  “Have you ever noticed that you’re always in the right place at the right time?”

  A frown marred Cole’s face for the briefest of moments, but then the harried server who’d just finished cleaning up the mess at the nearby table approached with two electric-blue cocktails in martini glasses. The waiter tilted his head toward the female biker group. “The ladies bought your first round.”

  Cole’s lips turned down and his nose wrinkled at the fruity drinks. But he was too polite to send them back. Instead, he placed both in front of Vivienne and asked the server, “What kind of craft beer do you have on tap?”

  After hearing several choices, Cole selected the pale ale. The waiter was in full retreat when Cole said, “Crap, we forgot to order the appetizer.”

  He handed her the bar menu and asked again if she wanted to split something. “Don’t change the subject.” She wagged a finger at him. “You were about to tell me why you’re always the first one to respond to a crisis.”

  He groaned, or at least it sounded like a groan. It was becoming more crowded in there and Vivienne had to lean in closer to hear him.

  “What was that?”

  He scooted his chair up to hers. “I said I was just doing what anyone else would have done.”

  “No, you weren’t. Don’t try to be modest.” Vivienne took a sip of the blue drink and winced at its sweetness. “You earned that nickname fair and square. And I want to know how.”

  Another blush spotted his cheeks, right under the shadow of his beard, and since his beer hadn’t arrived, he helped himself to the other cocktail. He shuddered, then flicked his tongue out to capture the sugary crystals the rim of his glass had left on his upper lip. Vivienne’s own mouth went dry and she took another gulp. But she wasn’t going to let her attraction to him distract her. “I’m waiting.”

  “Fine,” he finally relented. “It started the summer I was eight years old. It was a hot one and our parents took us camping at Flathead Lake. When we got there, my dad was busy showing The Bigs how to set up their tents.”

  “Wait,” Vivienne interrupted. “Who are The Bigs?”

  “Booker and Garrett. They’re the oldest. Anyway, my mom was trying to unload the truck but kept having to chase after The Smalls—that’s Zach and Shawn.”

  “So your family had The Bigs and The Smalls. Which group did you fall into?”

  “Neither. I was in the middle, the overlooked kid who didn’t really fit into either category. So I was given the boring task of lining rocks around the fire pit, which really was just a stupid chore my parents made up to keep me out of the way. But it also meant that I was the only one paying attention when ten-year-old Garrett was lured away from the campsite by the promise of the cool lake water.”

  The waiter returned just then with Cole’s beer, along with an ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne. Again the server nodded toward the women at the birthday party table, which was getting a bit louder and had been increased with the arrival of four older gentlemen who Vivienne could’ve sworn had been seated at the bar when they’d arrived. “The ladies also wanted to wish you congratulations.”

  Cole’s brows slammed together and Vivienne would’ve laughed at his response if she hadn’t been equally confused.

  “Hey, you two,” Judy, in her birthday tiara, yelled across the room. “Good luck on your marriage. Hope it lasts longer than mine did.”

  The rest of the women cheered and cackled as Vivienne looked down at Cole’s chest. Whoops. They were still wearing their Bride and Groom name tags. She managed a guilty smile as she used one hand to give a polite wave and the other hand to discreetly peel the sticker off her dress.

  Cole unclenched his jaw long enough to down the rest of the martini. “Whoa, that was sweet,” he said before taking a gulp of beer, probably t
o wash away the sugary taste.

  The waiter had already removed the champagne cork, so it wasn’t like they could send the bottle back. He brought over two flutes, and Vivienne quickly swallowed the rest of her cocktail so the server could clear the empty glasses and their table didn’t resemble a fraternity house the morning after a homecoming party.

  “So Garrett wandered off to the lake?”

  Cole nodded. “He did. And I followed him, even though we’d all been told repeatedly to stay away from the water. But before I could make it down the embankment, he already had his shoes off and was wading in. I told him he was going to be in big trouble. But did he listen to me? Nope. When it comes to Garrett, everything’s got to be faster and more dangerous.” Cole finished off his beer. “Jeez, what was in that first drink? Pineapple? I can still taste it.”

  Vivienne filled both the champagne flutes, just in case he needed something else to drink. The waiter and bartender were being overrun with customers and there was no way they’d get some iced water before they sat down to eat. “So what happened to Garrett?”

  “The knucklehead accidentally stepped on a rusted-out fishing hook and sliced open the bottom of his foot.”

  “Oh, no,” Vivienne gasped. She looked at Cole’s forearm and wondered how her hand had gotten there. However, her muscles felt too relaxed to pull it away.

  “Oh, yes. So he’s crying like a baby while I’m shoving his foot into the water trying to clean the wound. I found his discarded sock and tied it around the gash to stop the bleeding, then I carried him almost a quarter of a mile back to camp.”

  “You carried him? But wasn’t he bigger than you?”

  “By ten pounds, at least. Afterward, my parents were telling me how proud they were of me—before they yelled at both of us for wandering off. The campground host said I was the bravest boy who’d ever stayed there and the doctor at the urgent-care office praised my quick thinking, right before he gave Garrett a tetanus shot. Suddenly I went from being the forgotten middle child to the kid who saved the day.”