Sweet Troublemaker

by Jean Oram

  “It’s not?”

  “No. Most definitely not.” She crossed her arms, studying him. “Why did you take this on?”

  “My uncle’s always been there for me.” He shrugged. “Plus I get to hang out with a hottie. That’s a perk.”

  “A hottie. That’s funny.” She looked shy for a moment, and nervously adjusted her top, even though it hugged her curves in the best kind of way. “Brown and black color scheme? Please tell me you were joking.”

  “Maybe.”

  “So really. What made you say yes to this amount of romantic work?” Her narrow-eyed look said, Tell me or I will badger you from now until the wedding, without letting up.

  Her moxie and determination reminded him of a time when she’d caught wind that he liked someone else. She’d pestered him every single day for a solid week before he finally grabbed her around the waist behind The Sugar Shack and given her a long, slow kiss full of meaning.

  She’d looked stunned, but had simply said, “I hope she doesn’t feel the same way about you, ’cause she’s going to be heartbroken when I bring you back in for another one of those.”

  Which she had.

  They’d been inseparable from then until the end of vacation.

  Nick smiled at the memory. He was glad she’d badgered him, or he’d probably still be wondering and waiting.

  Now real-life Polly was staring at him, hands on her hips. He did a quick calculation. They didn’t exactly have time to play the games right now.

  “He fired me a few days ago.” Nick worked to compile the rest of his related thoughts, knowing that he’d given her only a snippet of the story, and that it would likely leave her judging him—and rightly so.

  He edged his hat back, exposing more forehead to the summer breeze coming off the ocean. It felt good, unlike the odd feeling of the wind on his legs which were left exposed by his shorts, rather than sweating it out under a protective layer of denim like they always were back home on the ranch.

  “Being fired isn’t the point,” he said. He hadn’t been mature, and his behavior hadn’t done justice to how he truly felt about Roy. His uncle probably thought Nick didn’t care about him, or the help and support he’d provided throughout the years, as well as the roof over his head. Roy had five sons and enough to worry about. He didn’t exactly need a troublesome nephew to deal with as well.

  “So you intend to ruin his wedding?” Polly asked, head tipped to the side like an animal sizing up a potential danger.

  “No. Not at all.” He waited a moment to allow his answer to sink in, and for Polly to accept it. “Helping Roy pull his wedding together is my messed-up way of showing him I appreciate all he’s done for me over the years.”

  He let out a shaky breath for how he’d revealed his inner motivations. What did it matter if he’d exposed his tender underbelly? Women liked that, right? Besides, if she was going to tease him for caring, he could endure it long enough to marry off his uncle, before shipping Polly back to Canada.

  “Then we’d better make this wedding great,” she said simply.

  And that was when Nick began to worry that he might still have the capacity to fall for Polly.

  Chapter 4

  Polly stretched her arms behind her back, her fingers interlocked like she was prepping to run a race. She felt energized and antsy about this wedding, and it wasn’t just because she wanted to do a good job for Roy, or the small fact that the last wedding she’d planned had been for a marriage that hadn’t worked out.

  It was, she knew, a great deal due to the prospect of spending several days shoulder to shoulder with her friendly, fun and lighthearted come-as-you-are ex-boyfriend. Handsome, too, if she was going to list some of Nick’s physical qualities. But as great as he was, he obviously didn’t know much about throwing together a wedding. Would he be a help or a hindrance?

  “This is going to be a lot of work,” Polly admitted, thinking about all the things yet to be organized for the event.

  “Wildflowers in jars. Order up some grub, or cook something on the grill. Done.” Nick flashed a grin she knew was meant to quell her worries, but instead increased them like flying sand in a windstorm.

  “Funny.”

  “No, it’s our backup plan.” Nick guided her between the palm trees and shrubbery lining a path that led from the lobby toward the beach. As they stepped free of the landscaping, an ocean breeze ruffled Polly’s shirt and threatened to snag strands of hair from her ponytail. She paused, inhaling deeply and slowly, like her yoga teacher had taught her.

  Nick imitated her inhalation and she laughed. “You’re silly.”

  He simply smiled, and wordlessly they crossed the loose, hot sand to the packed damp stretch along the shore.

  Out here, the wedding felt possible. Sophia had the colors she wanted, and at this point would be happy with anything semi-decent that got her to the point of saying “I do.”

  Polly laughed.

  “What?”

  “We really know how to vacation, don’t we?” All Nick had done was give her a lingering cheek kiss and suddenly she was planning someone’s wedding instead of sipping chardonnay and rethinking her life.

  “Hey, like I said, I’m hanging out with a hottie.”

  She gave a snort of amusement, knowing that helping with the wedding was more than just an excuse for him to hang out with her. She appreciated how open he was being about it. He casually draped an arm across her shoulders, and she leaned into him, matching her footsteps with his.

  “I missed you when the summer ended,” she said. What they’d had all those years ago had been rare. Sure, it had been a teenage thing, but nothing had ever quite matched the way the two of them could slip from goofy to serious. He’d been a friend. A crush. A first kiss. But he’d also been a safe place, and having him open up to her had reminded her of that.

  “I missed you, too.” He pulled her a little closer, landing a quick peck on the top of her head.

  She sighed, enjoying the feeling of contentment. It would be so easy to let go and see what happened with him.

  Let go? Oh, no. Nope. She was not going there. She was not going to fall for him again. She was at a career crossroads and he’d just gotten himself fired. They didn’t even live in the same country.

  But they both wanted to do right by Roy and his bride, and that was something.

  She held up a finger and narrowed her eyes, as though about to light into him. “Don’t you dare turn into a bridezilla on me.”

  “Hey, why am I the bride?” he asked, dropping his arm so he could face her. “You’re the woman.”

  “I’ve planned a lot of fund-raiser galas with ladies who have morphed into bridezillas, caring too much about what everyone thinks, because they’re in charge. They believed that every little thing would reflect on them personally.” Which it often did, but that was beside the point. “You have bridezilla potential written all over you.”

  Nick splayed his fingers against his chest and batted his eyelashes. “Me? Bridezilla? I barely know the difference between a table skirt and a caboose.”

  “We have three days to pull off a wedding.”

  “Five.”

  “Today is a wash and the wedding day doesn’t count. Tomorrow will be busy,” she said, falling into step with him again.

  “So we should pack the fun into tonight?” he replied.

  Polly laughed. That was so Nick.

  And it was kind of true, too. They didn’t have the list yet and most businesses were about to close for the night.

  “I guess we should,” she said, curious as to what he might have in mind.

  “We definitely should.”

  They continued to walk, Polly’s gaze idly tracking a man about their age. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and judging from his muscles, he worked out daily and watched what he ate. Just like she used to.

  Nick’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he caught where her attention had drifted. “Want me to introduce you?” He cupped his hands ar
ound his mouth and his chest expanded as he prepared to holler at the man.

  Polly let out a gasp of surprise, yanking Nick’s arm down.

  “No?” he asked. “No men tonight?”

  “Men only complicate things, and I’m going to have my hands full enough with you.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  She rolled her eyes. “With the wedding.”

  Nick inhaled again, as if preparing to shout, then paused to ask her, “So you’re just looking for a one-nighter then?”

  She tugged at his elbow and tipped her head to the side, giving what she hoped was an exasperated sigh.

  “Oh, he’s too old?” Nick lifted a finger to wave down a surfer who was coming in from the water, board tucked under his arm, half his wetsuit peeled down. He was about twenty and way too young for her.

  “Nick!”

  “Maybe this guy is looking for his own personal Mrs. Robinson.”

  She laughed. “Quit asking for trouble.”

  “Too young?”

  “How did we become so old that ‘too young’ became a category?”

  “Beats me,” he said. “But it’s good to see you smile.”

  The way he was gazing at her made her heart give an extra little squeeze.

  “Are you coming on to me?” she teased, loving how they could flirt without things getting awkward.

  “Always. So? How should we spend our last night before our servitude?”

  “I’m sure you have a few worthy ideas?”

  He smiled and wordlessly wrapped her hand in his like they were teenagers again, with nothing but freedom and possibilities ahead.

  Aimlessly walking along the beach with Polly felt natural. More natural than being with anyone else. The way she was giving up her vacation to help his uncle, when she obviously had other plans in mind, was pretty sweet. And maybe, just maybe, part of her didn’t mind spending some time with him as well. As a thank-you for helping, perhaps he could coax that lovely smile of hers into becoming a permanent resident.

  “Remember when you begged me to take you out riding?” he asked, lifting their joined hands to point at a group of people on horseback enjoying an evening canter along the beach.

  “I was just thinking about that,” Polly said with a wistful smile. They paused so she could slip off her sandals and go barefoot. “I had to badger you all summer, and finally just booked it on my own.”

  “I came, too,” he stated, frowning at the thought that she might have written him out of that memory.

  “In the end.”

  “It felt silly paying to ride someone else’s horse when there were a bunch of them back in Texas.” He and his mom, Jenna Mae, had been living on Roy’s ranch until Dwayne the Pain had come along and moved them into town. That summer he’d ached to ride the horses along the beach with Polly, but he also knew his cousins would mock him until the cows came home over paying for the touristy ride. Especially since, back home, Roy would let him ride for free anytime he desired. “Kind of like buying a bottle of water when you’re standing next to a water fountain.”

  Polly curled her hand around his biceps to give it a squeeze, allowing her body to bump the length of his for one glorious second. “It wasn’t about the horses, it was about the romance of it.”

  He nodded. He’d known that.

  “Plus I wanted to see you in your natural element as a cowboy.”

  He chuckled. He’d been at a strange crossroads in his identity back then. Not quite a townie, not quite a farm kid any longer, either.

  “Face it,” he teased, “it was about the horses. You had a big old crush on them, just like every other female under the age of eighteen.”

  She laughed. “What’s age got to do with it? I still love horses.”

  “Yeah, they’re okay,” he said with a hint of a smile. He had a great Appaloosa back home. Back home. What was he going to do with his mare, Granny Smith, if he didn’t go back to a ranch?

  Not go back to a ranch? It was in his blood.

  He sighed, shaking off his thoughts. He’d have plenty of time to worry about life later. Right now he had Polly at his side, and Roy’s ranch hands would take good care of Granny Smith.

  Up ahead, the riders had dismounted and were studying something on the shore. Probably a washed-up jellyfish. If it was a Portuguese man-of-war, he hoped they knew enough not to touch it, even if it was no longer alive. And if they did touch it, he hoped they knew enough not to pee on the sting—unlike his cousins and him as teens. He was pretty sure that had scarred the youngest Wylder, Ryan, for life.

  One of the horses began to wander off, realizing nobody held its reins. Nick watched to see what the animal would do, knowing that having been chosen for trail-riding, it was unlikely to bolt. But Polly stepped forward, letting go of Nick’s hand as she coaxed the horse closer.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Making a friend, obviously,” she said, as it trotted toward her, stopping in the soft sand to nuzzle her shoulder with its snout. It was a friendly one, for sure. Strong and healthy, and a perfect choice for the tourist business. What a racket. They probably had cheap land outside town for their stables, ran their excursions on public trails and charged vacationers an arm and a leg for the “romantic” experience. Polly must have really wanted it to have asked her mother’s boyfriend for the money.

  “You’re still crazy about horses,” he mused. He moved slowly, running his palm over the horse’s muzzle and up to the bridle, in case the beast decided to play games. It seemed content having Polly’s attention, though, and allowed him to gather the reins for the rider, who was running toward them, directly behind the horse.

  “Go around the side!” Nick said quickly, pressing a firm hand on the horse’s flank to push its back end away, in case it startled at the quick approach and decided to lash out with its hind legs. Even the best animal was ruled by protective instincts.

  Just like humans.

  Nick helped the rider back up on his mount, and he and Polly carried on with their walk.

  “Do you spend time with horses back home?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I used to.” She gave another shake. “I used to ride a fair bit and even competed in a few English riding events. Part of the trophy wife image.” She gave a quick smile. “I looked really good in the pants.” Her tight smile turned playful and she wiggled her hips, before blushing and brushing at her skirt.

  “Did you like it?” he asked.

  “Loved it. I could just focus on the horse and let my mind go blank.”

  “There’s something meditative about a good ride.” Realizing they had reached the end of the resort property and were nearing private beaches and grand oceanfront homes, he slowed his steps and said, “My cottage is the other way.”

  Polly dropped his hand, her laughter clear and light when she realized where they were. “Did you get lost?”

  “No.” He scooped up a seashell, feeling strangely awkward. “Did you?”

  “Maybe a bit disoriented,” she admitted. She turned so she could watch his expression, as she often did when curious about something. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him. “Were we going somewhere?”

  “We’re as aimless as a couple of teenagers.” Nick’s stomach grumbled, reminding him he hadn’t had supper yet. “And I think I might be as hungry as one. How about you?”

  “I could eat. I also have a bottle of wine in my cottage.”

  “Let’s meet on the beach. I saw some chairs back there, and I bet that little restaurant would bring us some pizza.”

  The way Polly’s face lit up, he knew he’d hit upon a winning idea. He’d mistakenly thought she’d changed, discarded spontaneity and fun, no longer capable of letting loose and being free. He had been wrong. She just needed someone to make her laugh and play more.

  And that was a job for nobody but him.

  Polly was a little bit in love with the idea of having pizza and wine on the beach with N
ick. He’s always known how to take something ordinary, give it one small tweak and turn it into something extraordinary.

  “Let’s find that bottle of wine,” she suggested, turning so they could walk back toward the resort, and her cottage if she could find it.

  As though reading her mind, Nick asked, “What color is your cottage?”

  “Navy blue.”

  “I think I saw it on my way to the Tiki Hut. I’m pretty sure we’re both up this way.” He pointed to a path that wound between trees, leading to different cottages. “Short cut.”

  She brushed the sand from her feet and slipped her sandals back on, then snagged his hand once more, giving a squeeze of gratitude for how he hadn’t taken her inability to find her way back again as something to mock her about. He simply made up for lack of sense of direction without making her feel like an idiot.

  No wonder she and Chuck hadn’t lasted.

  “Thanks,” she said softly.

  “As long as you’re with me, you will never be lost.” His warm brown eyes met hers and she longed to believe that he meant more than just geography.

  “I’m going to hold you to that,” she murmured.

  “Please do.” He stopped them under a large leafy plant. “I’m all yours.” He lifted his arms out from his sides, and in the process drew her slightly closer with their linked hands. If she took one more step she could be in his arms. She could rest her cheek against his chest, listen to his heart thump. She could maybe even kiss him, and allow herself to forget about her life issues for one glorious week.

  She let out a weary sigh. It wasn’t right to use him like a Band-Aid.

  Then again, they were adults. Why couldn’t she shake things up and live a little? What good were all those rules she had about her life? How had they ever served her?

  They hadn’t.

  So maybe it was time to throw them all away and just live the way Nick did. He didn’t have a job, and did he look concerned? No. Not at all. He was out here being in the present!

  Maybe all she had to do was give herself a good shake and move forward as the woman she’d always envisioned she’d be. Holding back and doing the right thing was nothing but exhausting.