Sweet Troublemaker

by Jean Oram

  Or distract him from his poorly veiled now-or-never ultimatum.

  He pulled her into a tight hug, kissing the top of her head, mentally sending her the message that she was stronger than she realized and could handle this.

  “Well, kind of,” he said. “But it’s a bonus that it’s you.”

  She burst out laughing and he knew that even though she was still ranked Most Likely to Bolt, he’d be able to keep a handle on the reins. She wasn’t leaving Indigo Bay without him—not this time.

  Chapter 8

  Polly’s head was a whirl. The clock was ticking. Tomorrow was the wedding. The day after that she flew home.

  And Nick… Nick was still expecting more than she was ready to give. Yes, it felt right. Yes, he was mostly patient. But that didn’t mean she was ready to change her entire life.

  Now or never. She knew what that meant with Nick. Choose now or be left behind.

  This was their life they were talking about. Not deciding whether or not to pull a prank.

  “Food is still an issue,” Polly said. She pushed the list of items—all but food and decorations were ticked off—across the counter in her cottage. This morning she could see him thinking, wanting to talk, wanting to tend to her fears about how fast they were moving.

  She just needed space and time to think and breathe—two things she didn’t seem to have.

  Was she going home? Was she going to Texas? Was he coming to Canada? They were all such big questions.

  The problem wasn’t with Nick, it was with the way she forgot about real life, and being with him long-term was very much a real life thing.

  “Let’s do the barbecue,” Nick said decisively, reaching down to ruffle the fur on Ralph’s back. “I called Roy. He said as long as we’re serving a real meal, he doesn’t care what it is or how we do it.”

  “Maybe a pig roast on the beach?” Polly asked. That was more in line with what Sophia wanted.

  “You need a permit.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I looked into it.” He smiled.

  “As well as called Roy.” She could hear the hint of accusation in her voice and hated it. He was merely moving ahead, clearing obstacles without consultation, because they were down to the wire. That was fine. Great even. It just…didn’t help her lack-of-control feeling.

  “Polly,” he said firmly. “We’re running out of time.”

  “I know, I know. Fine. Let’s do the grill thing.”

  Nick’s expression was grim as he watched her, and she could see how she was ruining things. She’d moved so fast and sure that first day, and then had continued to pull back, when all she longed to do was run forward—straight into his arms.

  Today she’d put on an expensive pair of belted silk pants and matching tank top from her old life, as a reminder that it was dumb to race ahead, and that it would cause nothing but heartache for her. So far, the outfit wasn’t helping, just messing with her mind as two worlds collided.

  “Are we fighting?” she whispered, hating that she knew the answer. It was a yes. And it was because of her.

  “Kiss me.”

  “What?”

  He leaned back and crossed his arms with a sigh. “Yup. We’re fighting.”

  “Maybe I don’t jump whenever you tell me to. Maybe I have a mind, and my own ideas.” Her voice was rising, but she was powerless to stop. “And thoughts and wishes and dreams.”

  She cringed. Where had that come from?

  “It’s a kiss, Polly.” Nick leaned forward, his patience clearly tested. “Couples do that.”

  She let out a shaky breath, hating that she was too afraid to address the issue straight on. “We need to sort out flowers and decorations. We have—”

  Nick was there suddenly, pulling her hips away from the counter and against him. He was in her space, his lips on hers, his kiss urgent. She forgot all the reasons she was afraid and slid her fingers into his short hair. He kissed her with love and devotion, with passion and need. She had never been kissed like that before and it made tears spring to her eyes. She wanted this. Every day. She wanted this to be real and stay real.

  “Move to Canada,” she whispered, when they came up for air.

  “I’m there, eh?” he replied in a Canadian accent, causing her to laugh up at him.

  His eyes were searching hers, seeking something she felt she needed to hide. She caught herself, sinking down from her tiptoes.

  Too much. Too soon.

  She was losing herself. That self she hadn’t even been reacquainted with yet.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, “I’m getting ahead of myself.”

  “No, you’re just catching up with me,” Nick replied, his lips meeting hers once again.

  She placed her hands on his chest and turned her chin away. “I can’t keep doing this.”

  “Kissing?”

  “Rushing. Whenever I’m with you I lose my mind. I just asked you to move to a different country.”

  “And I said yes.”

  “It’s crazy!”

  “I like crazy.” He was watching her with a steady, patient gaze, and she wondered how long it would be before he gave up on her. She didn’t want him to. And she didn’t want to play games. She just wanted things to…slow down? Stay in one place for a while?

  She sighed. “I’m not a freewheeling teen. We need to act like responsible adults.”

  “Okay. What do they do?”

  “They don’t ask their boyfriend of three days to move to Canada.”

  “So…? Texas?” He gave her a goofy smile meant to break the tension that was building.

  Her shoulders sagged and she groaned with humor.

  “Polly, just let go. I can come visit for a few weeks. Then you can come visit me. We’ll take it as it comes. It’ll be intensely casual.”

  She inhaled, trying to picture the future so she would know what she was supposed to do in two days. Where she was supposed to go. Following what career.

  Without Nick it would be lonely. She wanted him there, wherever there was.

  Why was she picturing a wedding?

  “Oh my gosh!” She straightened as an image came to mind. “I know who can help us.”

  “I’m not really into therapists, but I guess we could try.”

  “No, no. I meant Roy and Sophia’s wedding.” As the vision filled out, her excitement mounted. “You’re in charge of the grill and menu. Paula from the bakery is doing up the cake. We’ll use the mini ballroom only for dancing—using your playlist. And since the forecast is supposed to be fine, we’ll eat on the beach. I’m sure the resort must have folding tables and chairs.”

  Nick nodded and picked up his phone, no doubt already texting the question of tables and chairs to Zoe.

  “We’ll do a fancy Texas cookout,” Polly said, her enthusiasm growing. “Horse troughs full of ice for the beer and other drinks. Casual flowers in mason jars, with gorgeous, thick ribbon to class it up. Lots of balloons. We’ll need helpers to put it together. Casual but elegant. We can do this. It’s going to be great.”

  There was only one problem.

  They were going to need more ribbon than their dwindling budget allowed. They needed the wide, expensive stuff and there was only one woman she knew who could get that kind of rush order to her in time, and at a discount.

  She was going to have to call the impossible Sasha Vettori.

  Polly was driving Nick insane. She kissed him and said things from the heart, but then pulled back like a wild horse that feared being put in a corral. She was making him crazy.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. Polly had the deepest frown creasing her face as she scrolled through the contacts on her phone.

  “We need ribbon. Lots of it.”

  “A dollar store?”

  “No.”

  She was fully back into planning mode, thoughts of Canada out the window. She was freaking out again, wasn’t she?

  Normally, he’d label her behavior dramatic an
d he’d ditch, but the idea of leaving her made his gut feel hollow.

  Polly was pacing her little cottage now, her bare feet padding across the floor and her loose, flowing pale pink pants brushing her ankles as she moved. Fancy pants that looked like they could be silk. Not at all what he’d expected her to be wearing when he’d come over, after grabbing Ralph a new chew toy from Happy Paws.

  “I’m calling someone,” Polly said. “She can get a rush discount order on ribbon. It’s the only way to pull off the ballroom’s look with what’ll be left of our budget.” She was taking deep breaths and seemed as though she was mentally preparing to walk across burning coals.

  She finally held the phone to her ear with a big smile that looked so fake he was surprised her face didn’t fall off.

  “Hello, Sasha?” she said sweetly. “It’s Polly Morgan.” There was a beat, then she added, “Polly Morgan from the gala society. Used to be Pollard.”

  Polly’s free hand flexed open and closed before her thumb began toying with the bare spot where a wedding band had once been.

  “Quite well, thank you,” she said into the phone, with a polite, distant tone that surprised him. He’d never heard her speak with such posh reserve. It made him think of Stepford wives and things that made him shudder. Mostly Stepford wives.

  “And how are you?” Man, she was really going over the top with the act.

  Polly made a sympathetic sound after listening for a long minute, during which Nick tried to avoid tapping his foot with impatience. “Did Nicole give you my binder? It should have all the notes and contacts to put on a gala for raising funds to feed children.” A slight pause, and then she added in a poorly disguised hurt tone, “Oh. Of course. It’s definitely time for a change up. And of course I understand. You must be so busy. I don’t know how you do it all.” She gave a fake-sounding laugh that was more like a trill, causing Ralph to give a bark of alarm.

  Things were worse than he’d thought.

  She was a Stepford wife.

  Was this what she’d been trying to warn him about all week?

  Polly’s entire body was stiff, her chest barely moving as she exhaled. She gave Nick a tight, quick smile.

  “I’m actually down in Indigo Bay at the moment, doing a favor for a friend who’s getting married. Complete disaster.” She heaved an audible sigh that set Nick on edge. It wasn’t that bad.

  He wanted to interrupt and correct her, but her spine suddenly straightened and her body froze as she listened, her knuckles whitening. “No. What?” Polly looked gutted when Nick caught her gaze. She turned away, her shoulders rounded again as though she was trying to hide.

  “Of course I’m not planning his wedding.” Her words were quick, her fake laugh so full of pain that Nick took an involuntary step toward her. He wanted to take the phone away, as well as the hurt.

  Her next words were warm, confusing him. “That’s truly wonderful for him.” There was more silence. “No, of course I’m happy for him.”

  She didn’t sound happy.

  “It is the season for weddings!” She gave another fake laugh as she said hurriedly, “Down here the poor bride is beside herself. You know how everything can fall apart at the last minute. Total nightmare! Anyway, I told her I knew this amazing woman who could get discount ribbon rushed to her in time for the wedding. She’s such a supporter of the causes and was really curious about that charity you started last fall. And anyway, I told her, ‘Sasha can get anyone anything.’ What’s your cousin Phillip’s ribbon warehouse called again? Blue Ribbon?”

  Polly smiled, triumph transforming her features.

  “Oh, that’s what it is.” She listened for a few more moments, shooting Nick a quick wink. The woman had just played her old rival, was his best guess.

  “Sasha, you’re still such a doll. That would be so wonderful.” Polly’s knuckles were practically white, the chipped pink polish on her nails standing out more than ever.

  After a few more niceties and false platitudes, she set down her phone and let out a whoosh of air, slumping back in the chair she’d taken. “We’ve got ribbon.”

  “Do you feel like you need a shower after all that?” he asked. Possibly to wash off the fakeness? That had definitely been a side to her he hadn’t expected, and maybe it proved her point that they didn’t truly know each other beyond their vacation selves.

  Polly gave him a blank look, pushing her way out of the chair she’d sagged into.

  Nick imitated the fake tone she’d used with Sasha. Polly didn’t laugh.

  Her voice was stern when she said, “I’m not that person anymore.”

  But she once had been. Maybe her insistence on the wedding being fancier than Roy cared about was Polly wanting to prove herself to someone, or a matter of keeping up appearances.

  She headed for the door of her cottage, Ralph following her. “I need a few hours to myself.” She wouldn’t meet Nick’s gaze.

  “What?” Was she serious? “We still have a lot to do.”

  She simply stood at the door, her expression closed.

  “I’m sorry if I—” he began.

  “I need time to think,” she said firmly.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  Nick halted, surprised. Since when did she not want to talk to him?

  Then again, she’d just made contact with her real life, and he wasn’t a part of that world. Might never be. As she had reminded him, he was just her on-holiday romance.

  Polly had swallowed her pride and acted like her old, fake self to get the last of what they needed for the wedding. That ribbon was going to pull off the whole look. But putting on her old persona had not been fun. Especially after catching the way Nick had stared at her. It had been awful. He’d looked as though all his false beliefs about her had finally been revealed, exposing an ugly truth he didn’t want to deal with.

  But she wasn’t Polly Pollard, trophy wife and a member of elite society, anymore.

  She also wasn’t that fun-loving teenager he thought her to be.

  Even he wasn’t that youth any longer. He had grown up, too.

  So who was she? And who was he?

  He’d seen her react to the news of Chuck getting remarried, and he’d looked as though he was going to reach out and comfort her. But when she’d asked him to leave, he simply had. And of course she hadn’t wanted to talk about it. Nick had been looking at her like…like he didn’t know her. And then he’d just left, without a hint of argument. It was as though he truly believed the old Polly was real.

  She paced the room, sorting through her feelings. Chuck was getting remarried, after kicking up such a fuss over the divorce. He’d proposed to his girlfriend last night, and was officially moving on. While Polly couldn’t even get it together to enjoy a few days with Nick without ruining everything.

  She dabbed at her wet eyes. Why couldn’t she just let go like everyone else seemed to be able to do?

  Was it because she wasn’t ready? Because Nick wasn’t that serious? Because they lived thousands of miles apart and couldn’t build a lasting relationship in less than a week while on vacation?

  It hadn’t worked with Chuck, so why would it work with Nick? Following him to Texas would be a sure, direct route to a broken heart.

  She sucked in a fortifying breath, ending her pity party. The spools and spools of ribbon she’d ordered, before indulging in tears, would be arriving soon. Sasha’s cousin, who lived only a few hours away, had offered to toss them in the back of his car, as he was heading south for an early weekend getaway. The timing was perfect.

  Meant to be.

  Meant to destroy what she and Nick had been building by providing him with a glimpse into who she really was—a woman capable of faking an entire persona and creating a life without love and meaning.

  Polly felt her insides begin to crumple, but pulled herself back together. It was time to call on the old Polly. She needed to put on an act and pretend everything was fine so she
could get through this.

  Then she could go home and start all over again.

  What was up with Polly?

  Nick looked out his window, trying to see her cottage. He could get glimpses of it, but that was all.

  The wedding was tomorrow, and they still had a million things to do. And she wanted some quiet time? She’d looked like she’d needed to talk, yet had firmly told him to leave.

  Didn’t she trust him enough to confide in him? And who was that Sasha woman? She was obviously some form of evilness, as in a matter of minutes she’d managed to destroy the Polly he loved. He wanted her back.

  He definitely didn’t know Stepford Barbie or that life of hers. She hung out with people like the country’s most eligible billionaire bachelor, and didn’t want him to see her in casual beachwear. Whereas he hung out with foul-mouthed cowboys who took pride in having their jeans stand up on their own thanks to the caked-in dirt. Polly had spoken as though she’d hated that society life, but then there she was, donning the Stepford Barbie persona like she was a comfortable mask—and for what? Ribbon.

  It didn’t add up.

  Did she like that life or not?

  He rubbed Ralph’s ears. “Was what I’ve been feeling wrong?”

  The more he thought about it all, the more confused he became.

  He lifted his duffel onto the bed. Alexa could no doubt use the extra hand back home on her ranch if she was arriving here today, and there was no way he could face Polly to finish working on the “complete disaster” and “total nightmare” when he’d read her cues so incorrectly about how she felt about him. It was like Roy had said—he needed to look outside himself more often.

  Yeah, yeah, he might be acting a bit sensitive, but Polly had made it clear all week that she wasn’t ready for his level of commitment, and she’d pushed him away a time or two. He’d ignored her, thinking it was just the fear talking, and that what he felt was enough for both of them and would cause her fears to subside.