Читать онлайн книгу «A Cadence Creek Christmas» автора DONNA ALWARD

A Cadence Creek Christmas
DONNA ALWARD
Taylor Shepard has come to Cadence Creek to organise her brother's Christmas wedding. Organising such a special event might be a little bit stressful - but she can't deny she's swept away by the town’s holiday charm… and by brooding rancher Rhys Bullock.Loner Rhys has been burned far too many times in the past. He's sure he has city girl Taylor all figured out - she'll be hightailing straight back to the city in a few days! But as the snow starts to fall, Rhys and Taylor embark on a tentative winter romance.Could Taylor be the Christmas present Rhys never even knew he wanted?


It’s Christmas in Donna Alward’s Cadence Creek…
Taylor Shepard has come to Cadence Creek to organize her brother’s Christmas wedding. Organizing such a special event might be a little bit stressful—but she can’t deny she’s swept away by the town’s holiday charm…and by brooding rancher Rhys Bullock.
Loner Rhys has been burned far too many times in the past. He’s sure he has city girl Taylor all figured out—she’ll be hightailing it straight back to the city in a few days! But as the snow starts to fall, Rhys and Taylor embark on a tentative winter romance. Could Taylor be the Christmas present Rhys never even knew he wanted?

“I only noticed because I can’t seem to take my eyes off you whenever you’re around.”
And there it was. The acknowledgement of whatever this was. Attraction. Curiosity. Carnality.
“I thought we weren’t going to do this,” she said softly. She kept her hands folded tightly in her lap to keep them from going where they wanted to go—on him. “I’m only here for a few days.”
“Then there’s no danger. We both know what’s what. We’re going in with our eyes wide open.”
“Are you seducing me, Rhys?” His thumb toyed with her lower lip and her eyes drifted closed.
“With any luck.” He moved closer, leaning forward slightly so she began to recline against the cushions. “We’re adults,” he stated. “We’re both wondering. It doesn’t have to go any deeper than that.”
Tentatively she lifted her hand and touched his face. “Usually I’m the confident one who goes after what she wants.”
He smiled a little, his gaze dropping to her lips. “You don’t want this? I could have sworn you did.”
“I didn’t say that…” she whispered, sliding deeper into the cushions.
“That’s what I thought.”
His voice was husky now, shivering along her nerveendings. He leaned closer until he was less than a breath away.
A Cadence Creek
Christmas
Donna Alward


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A busy wife and mother of three (two daughters and the family dog), DONNA ALWARD believes hers is the best job in the world: a combination of stay-at-home mum and romance novelist. An avid reader since childhood, Donna always made up her own stories. She completed her arts degree in English literature in 1994, but it wasn’t until 2001 that she penned her first full-length novel and found herself hooked on writing romance. In 2006 she sold her first manuscript, and now writes warm, emotional stories for Mills & Boon.
In her new home office in Nova Scotia, Donna loves being back on the east coast of Canada after nearly twelve years in Alberta, where her career began, writing about cowboys and the West. Donna’s debut romance, Hired by the Cowboy, was awarded the Bookseller’s Best Award in 2008 for Best Traditional Romance.
With the Atlantic Ocean only minutes from her doorstep, Donna has found a fresh take on life and promises even more great romances in the near future!
Donna loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website www.donnaalward.com, or her page at www.myspace.com/dalward.
To the Mills & Boon
Romance authors—my writing family. You guys are the best.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE (#ua9b69894-f9f8-58b6-941e-e13b4c53b529)
CHAPTER TWO (#ubbf273d0-8382-5ebe-99d5-45594703e63e)
CHAPTER THREE (#u26fdf945-6f18-50f1-8725-a72d6b5872a6)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
TAYLOR SHEPARD FROWNED as she assessed the lineup of men before her. All five of them were big, burly and, with the exception of her brother Jack, looked irritated beyond belief.
“Come on, Taylor, can’t we take these monkey suits off?”
Her oldest brother, Callum, pleaded with her. Along with his best man and groomsmen, he’d spent the past half hour trying on various tuxedo styles. Callum, being her brother and, of course, the groom, was the spokesman for the lot.
“If you want to show up at your wedding in jeans and boots, be my guest. I don’t think your bride would appreciate that too much, though.”
A muffled snort came from down the line. Her head snapped toward the sound and she saw one of the groomsmen—Rhys, if she remembered correctly—struggling to keep a straight face.
“Keep it up,” she warned severely, “and you’ll be the one trying on a cravat.”
His face sobered in an instant.
“This was supposed to be a small and simple wedding,” Callum reminded her. “Not one of your massive events.”
“And it will be. But small and simple doesn’t mean it can’t be classy.” She pinned him with a stare. “Your soon-to-be wife trusts me. Besides, you need to balance your look with the wedding dress and flower girl dress for Nell.” She paused and played her trump card. “They’re going to be beautiful.”
There’d be little argument out of Callum now. All it took was the mention of Avery and his baby daughter and the tough ex-soldier turned into a marshmallow. She thought it was fantastic. He’d needed someone like Avery for a long time. Not to mention how fatherhood had changed him. He had the family he’d always wanted.
She examined each man carefully. “I don’t like the red vests,” she decreed. She went up to Sam Diamond and tugged on the lapels of his jacket. “And not double-breasted. The green vests, like Tyson’s here. The single-breasted jacket like Jack has on, which is much simpler.” She smiled up at her brother, easily the most comfortable man in the group. Jack wouldn’t give her a moment’s trouble, not about this anyway. She got to the last body in the line and looked up.
Dark eyes looked down into hers. A little serious, a little bit of put-upon patience, and a surprising warmth that made her think he had a good sense of humor. She reached up and gave his tie a tug, straightening it. “And not the bolo tie, either. The crossover that Rhys is wearing is classier and still very Western.”
Her fingertips grazed the starchy fabric of his shirt as she dropped her hand. It was a negligible touch, barely worth noticing, except the slight contact made something interesting tumble around in her stomach. Her gaze darted up to his again and discovered he was watching her steadily in a way that made her feel both excited and awkward.
Interesting. Because in her line of work she dealt with all sorts of men every day. Rich men, powerful men, men who liked other men and men who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. She knew how to handle herself. Was never tempted to flirt unless it was a business strategy. She was very good at reading people, figuring out their tastes and wants and knowing what methods she needed to use to deliver them.
So getting a fluttery feeling from barely touching Rhys Bullock was a surprise indeed. And feeling awkward? Well, that was practically unheard of. Of course, it could be that she was just very out of practice. She’d been far too busy building her business to do much dating.
She straightened her shoulders and took a step backward. “Okay, now on to footwear.”
Groans went up the line.
She smiled. “Guys, really. This will be the best part. I was thinking black boots which we can get wherever you prefer to buy your boots. No patent dress shoes. Put on the boots you wore here so we can accurately measure your inseam for length. Then we’ll finish up your measurements and you’re done.” She made a dismissive sound. “Honestly, what a bunch of babies.”
She was having fun now, teasing the guys. They were good men but not much for dressing up. She got that. Their standard uniform was jeans and boots, plaid shirts and Stetsons. Tuxedo fittings had to be torture.
Still, it didn’t matter if this was her brother’s wedding or a client’s A-list party. Or if she was being paid or doing it as a wedding gift. Avery and Callum’s day would be exactly what it should be because she’d oversee every last detail.
And if she were being honest with herself, it was a relief to get out of Vancouver for a while and deal with “real” people. It had been exhausting lately. Most of her clients were rich and used to getting exactly what they wanted exactly when they wanted it. Their sense of entitlement could be a bit much. Not to mention the unorthodox requests. She sometimes wondered what sort of reality these people lived in.
As she looked after the ordering details, one of the alterations staff did measurements. Another half hour and they were all done and standing out in the sunshine again. Taylor pulled out her phone and scanned her to-do list for today. She had to drive back to Cadence Creek and meet with Melissa Stone, the florist at Foothills Floral. The final order was going to be placed today—after all, the wedding was less than two weeks away now. All this should have been done a month ago or even more, but Taylor knew there were ways to get things done in a hurry if needs be. Like with the tuxes and invitations. Both should have been tended to months ago but it had merely taken a few phone calls and it had all been sorted. A little out of Callum’s budget, perhaps, but he didn’t need to know that. She was good for it. Exclusive!—her event planning business—had treated her well the past few years.
Still, there was no time to waste. She closed her calendar and looked up.
The group of them were standing around chatting, something about a lodge north of town and what had happened to the rancher who’d owned it. Jack was listening intently, but Rhys was missing. Had he left already?
The bell on the door chimed behind her, and she turned to see Rhys walking through. He looked far more himself now in black jeans and a black, tan and red plaid shirt beneath a sheepskin jacket. His boots were brown and weathered and as he stepped on to the sidewalk he dipped his head just a little and placed a well-worn hat on top. Taylor half smiled. The hat looked like an old friend; shaped precisely to his head, worn-in and comfortable.
“Feel better?” she asked, smiling.
“I’m not much for dressing up,” he replied simply.
“I know. None of you are, really. But it’s only for one day. You’re all going to look very handsome.”
“Is that so?”
Her cheeks heated a little. Rhys’s best feature was his eyes. And he was tall and well-built, just the way she liked her men. Perhaps it was growing up the way she had. They’d all been outdoor kids. Heck, Callum had joined the military and Jack had been a pro downhill skier until he’d blown his knee out at Val d’Isère.
But Rhys wasn’t classically handsome. Not in the way that Tyson Diamond was, for instance. In this group Rhys would be the one who would probably be overlooked. His cheekbones were high and defined and his jawbone unrelenting, giving him a rough appearance. His lips looked well-shaped but it was hard to tell—the closest she’d seen him come to smiling was the clandestine chuckle while they were inside.
But it was the way he’d answered that piqued her interest. Is that so? he’d asked, as if he couldn’t care one way or the other if anyone thought him handsome or not.
It was quite refreshing.
“I should get going,” she said, lifting her chin. “I’ve got to be back to town in thirty minutes for another appointment. Thanks for coming out. It’ll be easy for you from here on in. Weddings do tend to be mostly women’s business.” At least with these sorts of men...
“Drive carefully then,” he said, tipping his hat. “No sense rushing. The creek isn’t going anywhere.”
“Thanks, but I’d like to be on time just the same.” She gave him a brief nod and turned to the assembled group. “I’ve got to go. Thanks everyone.” She put her hand on Callum’s shoulder and went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “See you soon.” She did the same for Jack. “When are you flying out?”
He shrugged. “I’m going to hang around for a few days. I’ve got to be back in Montana for meetings on Monday, though, and then I’m flying in the Thursday before the wedding.”
“Let’s have lunch before you go back.”
“You got it. Text me.”
With a quick wave Taylor hurried across the parking lot, her heeled boots echoing on the pavement. She turned the car heater on high and rubbed her hands together—December in Alberta was colder than on the coast and she felt chilled to the bone all the time.
She was down to twenty-five minutes. As a light snow began to fall, she put her rental car in gear and pulled out, checking her GPS for the quickest route to the highway.
Three weeks. That was how long she had to decompress. She’d take care of Callum’s wedding and then enjoy one indulgent week of vacation before heading home and working on the final preparations for New Year’s. This year’s planning involved taking over an entire warehouse and transforming it into an under the sea kingdom.
It all seemed quite ridiculous. And because it did, she knew that it was time she took a vacation. Even one as short as a week in some small, backwater Alberta town. Thank goodness her assistant, Alicia, was completely capable and could handle things in Taylor’s absence.
She turned on the wipers and sighed. Compared to the crazy demands of her normal events, she knew she could do this wedding with her eyes closed.
If that were true, though, why was she having so much fun and dreading going back to Vancouver so very much?
* * *
It was already dark when Taylor whipped out her phone, brought up her to-do list and started punching in brief notes with her thumbs. Her fingers were numb with cold and she’d been out of the flower shop for a whole minute and a half. Where on earth was the frigid air coming from anyway? Shivering and walking toward the town’s B&B, she hurriedly typed in one last detail she didn’t want to forget. Instead of typing the word “cedar,” however, she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder as she bounced off something very big and hard.
“Hey,” she growled. “Watch where you’re going!”
She looked up to find Rhys Bullock staring down at her, a scowl marking his angular face.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said, letting out a puff of annoyance.
He knelt down and retrieved her phone, stood up and handed it over. “Hope it didn’t break,” he said. His tone suggested that he wasn’t quite sincere in that sentiment.
“The rubber cover is supposed to protect it. It’ll be fine.”
“Maybe next time you should watch where you’re going. Stop and sit down before you start typing.”
“It’s too damn cold to stop,” she grumbled.
He laughed then, the expulsion of breath forming a white cloud around his head. “Not used to an arctic front? This isn’t cold. Wait until it’s minus forty.”
“Not a chance.”
“That’s right. You’re only here for the wedding.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get out of the cold before my fingertips fall off.” She tried to ignore how his face changed when he laughed, softening the severe lines. A smattering of tiny marks added character to his tanned skin. If she had to come up with one word to describe Rhys, it would be weathered. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
He took a step closer and to her surprise reached into her pocket and took out her gloves. Then he took the phone from her hands, dropped it in the pocket and handed over the gloves. “This will help.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That was presumptuous of you.”
He shrugged. “Ms. Shepard, I’m pretty much used to keeping things simple and doing what has to be done. If your fingers are cold, put on your gloves.”
She shoved her fingers into the fuzzy warmth, her temper simmering. He spoke to her as if she were a child!
“Now,” he said calmly, “where are you headed? It’s dark. I’ll walk you.”
Her temper disintegrated under the weight of her disbelief. She laughed. “Are you serious? This is Cadence Creek. I think I’ll be safe walking two blocks to my accommodations.” Good Lord. She lived in one of the largest cities in Canada. She knew how to look out for herself!
“Maybe I just want to make sure you don’t start texting and walk out into traffic,” he suggested. “You must be going to Jim’s then.” He named the bed and breakfast owner.
“That’s right.”
He turned around so they were facing the same direction. “Let’s go,” he suggested.
She fell into step because she didn’t know what else to do. He seemed rather determined and it would take all of five minutes to walk to the rambling house that provided the town’s only accommodation. To her mind the dive motel out on the highway didn’t count. She watched as he tipped his hat to an older lady coming out of the drugstore and then gave a nod to a few men standing on the steps of the hardware. He might be gruff and bossy and not all that pretty to look at, but she had to give Rhys one thing—his manners were impeccable.
The light dusting of snow earlier covered the sidewalk and even grouchy Taylor had to admit that it was pretty, especially in the dark with the town’s Christmas lights casting colored shadows on its surface. Each old-fashioned lamppost held a pine wreath with a red bow. Storefronts were decorated with garland on their railings and twinkle lights. Christmas trees peeked through front windows and jolly Santas and snowmen grinned from front yards.
Cadence Creek at the holidays was like one of those Christmas card towns that Taylor hadn’t believed truly existed. Being here wasn’t really so bad. Even if it was a little...boring.
They stopped at a crosswalk. And as they did her stomach gave out a long, loud rumble.
Rhys put his hand at her elbow and they stepped off the curb. But instead of going right on the other side, he guided her to the left.
“Um, the B&B is that way,” she said, turning her head and pointing in the opposite direction.
“When did you eat last?” he asked.
She fought the urge to sigh. “None of your business.”
Undeterred, he kept walking and kept the pressure at her elbow. “Jim and Kathleen don’t provide dinner. You need something to eat.”
She stopped dead in her tracks. Rhys carried on for a few steps until he realized she wasn’t with him then he stopped and turned around. “What?”
“How old am I?”
His brows wrinkled, forming a crease above his nose. “How could I possibly know that?”
“Do I look like an adult to you?”
Something flared in his eyes as his gaze slid from her face down to her boots and back up again. “Yes’m.”
She swallowed. “You can’t herd me like you herd your cattle, Mr. Bullock.”
“I don’t herd cattle,” he responded.
“You don’t?”
“No ma’am. I work with the horses. Especially the skittish ones.”
“Well, then,” she floundered and then recovered, ignoring that a snowflake had just fallen and landed on the tip of her nose. “I’m not one of your horses. You can’t make me eat just because you say so.”
He shrugged. “Can’t make the horses do that, either. Trick is to make them want to do what I want.” He gave her a level stare. “I’m pretty good at that.”
“Your ego isn’t suffering, I see.”
His lips twitched. “No, ma’am. Everyone has a skill. Smart man knows what his is, that’s all.”
God, she didn’t want to be amused. He was a bullheaded, overbearing macho cowboy type who probably called women “little lady” and thought he was all that. But she was amused and to be honest she’d enjoyed sparring with him just a little bit. At least he wasn’t a pampered brat like most people she met.
She let out the tension in her shoulders. “Where are you taking me, then?” She’d seriously considered ordering a pizza and having it delivered to the B&B. It wasn’t like there was a plethora of dining choices in Cadence Creek.
“Just to the Wagon Wheel. Best food in town.”
“I’ve been. I had lunch there yesterday.” And breakfast in the dining room of the bed and breakfast and then dinner was a fast-food burger grabbed on the way back from the stationery supply store in Edmonton.
The lunch had definitely been the best meal—homemade chicken soup, thick with big chunks of chicken, vegetables and the temptation of a warm roll which she’d left behind, not wanting the extra carbs.
Her stomach growled again, probably from the mere thought of the food at the diner.
“Fine. I’ll go get some takeout. Will that make you happy?”
He shrugged. “It’s not about me. But now that you mention it, I think tonight is pot roast. I could do with some of that myself.” He turned and started walking away.
Reluctantly she followed a step behind him. At least he didn’t have that darned proprietary hand under her elbow anymore. Half a block away she could smell the food. The aroma of the standard fare—fries and the like—hit first, but then the undertones touched her nostrils: beef, bread and baking.
Her mouth watered as she reminded herself that she had a bridesmaid’s dress to fit into as well. Pot roast would be good. But she would absolutely say no to dessert.
It was warm inside the diner. The blast of heat was a glorious welcome and the scents that were hinted at outside filled the air inside. Christmas music played from an ancient jukebox in the corner. The whole place was decorated for the holidays, but in the evening with everything lit up it looked very different than it had yesterday at noon. Mini-lights ran the length of the lunch counter and the tree in a back corner had flashing lights and a star topper that pulsed like a camera flash. The prevalence of vinyl and chrome made her feel like she was in a time warp.
Two-thirds of the tables were filled with people, all talking animatedly over the music. Rhys gave a wave to a group in a corner and then, to her surprise, slipped behind the cash register and went straight into the kitchen.
Through the order window she saw him grin at an older woman in a huge cobbler’s apron who laughed and patted his arm. Both of them turned Taylor’s way and she offered a polite smile before turning her attention to the specials menu on a chalkboard. Takeout was definitely the way to go here. This wasn’t her town or her people. She stuck out like a sore thumb.
She was just about to order a salad when Rhys returned. “Come on,” he said, taking her elbow again. “Let’s grab a seat.”
“Um, I didn’t really think we were going to eat together. I was just going to get something to take back with me.”
“You work too hard,” he said, holding out a chair for her and then moving around the table without pushing it in—polite without being over the top. “You could use some downtime.”
She shifted the chair closer to the table. “Are you kidding? This is slow for me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Then you really do need to stop and refuel.”
He shrugged out of his jacket and hooked it over the top of the chair. She did the same, unbuttoning the black-and-red wool coat and shoving her scarf in the sleeve. She wore skinny jeans tucked into her favorite boots—red designer riding boots—and a snug black cashmere sweater from an expensive department store in the city. She looked around. Most of the men wore thirty-dollar jeans and plaid flannel, and the women dressed in a similar fashion—jeans and department store tops.
Just as she thought. Sore thumb.
When she met Rhys’s gaze again she found his sharper, harder, as if he could read her thoughts. She dropped her gaze and opened her menu.
“No need for that. Couple orders of pot roast are on their way.”
She put down the menu and folded her hands on the top. While the rest of the decorations at the diner bordered on cheesy, she secretly loved the small silk poinsettia pots with Merry Christmas picks. “What amusement are you getting out of this?” she asked. “From what I can gather you don’t approve of me but you do enjoy bossing me around.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Because so far you’ve found fault with everything I say or do?”
“Then why did you come with me?”
“You didn’t leave me much choice.” She pursed her lips.
“You always have a choice,” he replied, unrolling his cutlery from his paper napkin.
“Then I guess because I was hungry,” she said.
He smiled. “You mean because I was right.”
Oh, he was infuriating!
“The trick is to make them want to do what I want.” He repeated his earlier sentiment, only she understood he wasn’t talking about horses anymore. He’d played her like a violin.
She might have had some choice words only their meals arrived, two plates filled with roast beef, potatoes, carrots, peas and delightfully puffy-looking Yorkshire puddings. Her potatoes swam in a pool of rich gravy and the smell coming from the food was heaven in itself.
She never ate like this anymore. Wondered if she could somehow extract the potatoes from the gravy or maybe just leave the potatoes altogether—that would probably be better.
“Thanks, Mom,” she heard Rhys say, and her gaze darted from her plate up to his face and then to the woman standing beside the table—the same woman who had patted his arm in the kitchen. Taylor guessed her to be somewhere around fifty, with dark brown hair like Rhys’s, only cut in an efficient bob and sprinkled with a few gray hairs.
“You’re welcome,” she said, then turned to Taylor with a smile. “You’re Callum’s sister. I remember you from the christening party.”
Right. Taylor had flown in for that and she’d helped arrange a few details like the outdoor tent, but she’d done it all by phone from Vancouver. “Oh, my goodness, I totally didn’t put two and two together. Martha Bullock...of course. And you’re Rhys’s mother.” She offered an uncertain smile. Usually she didn’t forget details like that. Then again the idea of the gruff cowboy calling anyone “Mom” seemed out of place.
“Sure am. Raised both him and his brother, Tom. Tom’s been working up north for years now, but Rhys moved home a few years back.”
“Your chicken tartlets at the party were to die for,” Taylor complimented. “And I had the soup yesterday. You’re a fabulous cook, Mrs. Bullock. Whoever your boys marry have big shoes to fill to keep up with Mom’s home cooking.”
Martha laughed while, from the corner of her eye, Taylor could see Rhys scowl. Good. About time he felt a bit on the back foot since he’d been throwing her off all day.
“Heh, good luck,” Martha joked. “I’m guessing groomsman is as close to the altar as Rhys is gonna get. He’s picky.”
She could almost see the steam come out of his ears, but she took pity on him because she’d heard much the same argument from her own family. It got wearisome after a while. Particularly from her father, who’d never taken her business seriously and seemed to think her sole purpose in life was to settle down and have babies.
Not that she had anything against marriage or babies. But she’d do it on her own timetable.
“Well,” she said, a bit softer, “it seems to me that getting married is kind of a big deal and a person would have to be awfully sure that they wanted to see that person every day for the rest of their lives. Not a thing to rush, really.”
Martha smiled and patted Taylor’s hand. “Pretty and wise. Don’t see that very often, at least around here.” She sent a pointed look at a nearby table where Taylor spied an animated blonde seated with a young man who seemed besotted with her.
“Well, your supper’s getting cold.” Martha straightened. “And I’ve got to get back. See you in a bit.”
Taylor watched Rhys’s mother move off, stopping at several tables to say hello. Her full laugh was infectious and Taylor found herself smiling.
When she turned back, Rhys had already started cutting into his beef. Taylor mentally shrugged and speared a bright orange carrot with her fork.
“So,” she said easily. “How’d a nice woman like your mother end up with a pigheaded son like you?”
CHAPTER TWO
TENDER AS IT was, Rhys nearly choked on the beef in his mouth. Lord, but Callum’s sister was full of sass. And used to getting her own way, too, from the looks of it. He’d noticed her way back in the fall at the christening, all put together and pretty and, well, bossy. Not that she’d been aggressive. She just had one of those natural take-charge kind of ways about her. When Taylor was on the job, things got done.
He just bet she was Student Council president in school, too. And on any other committee she could find.
He’d been the quiet guy at the back of the class, wishing he could be anywhere else. Preferably outside. On horseback.
Burl Ives was crooning on the jukebox now and Taylor was blinking at him innocently. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be offended or laugh at her.
“She only donated half the genetic material,” he replied once he’d swallowed. “Ask her. She’ll tell you my father was a stubborn old mule.”
Taylor popped a disc of carrot into her mouth. “Was?”
“He died when I was twenty-four. Brain aneurism. No warning at all.”
“God, Rhys. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged again. “It’s okay. We’ve all moved well beyond the shock and grief part to just missing him.” And he did. Even though at times Rhys had been frustrated with his father’s decisions, he missed his dad’s big laugh and some of the fun things they’d done as kids—like camping and fishing. Those were the only kinds of vacations their family had ever been able to afford.
They ate in silence for a while until it grew uncomfortable. Rhys looked over at her. He wasn’t quite sure what had propelled him to bring her here tonight. It had been the gentlemanly thing to do but there was something else about her that intrigued him. He figured it was probably the way she challenged him, how she’d challenged them all today. He’d nearly laughed out loud during the fitting. He could read people pretty well and she had pushed all the right buttons with Callum. And then there was the way she was used to being obeyed. She gave an order and it was followed. It was fun putting her off balance by taking charge.
And then there was the indisputable fact that she was beautiful.
Except he really wasn’t interested in her that way. She was so not his type. He was beer and she was champagne. He was roots and she was wings.
Still. A guy might like to fly every once in a while.
“So,” he invited. “Tell me more about what you do.”
“Oh. Well, I plan private parties and events. Not generally weddings. Right now, in addition to Callum and Avery’s details, I’m going back and forth with my assistant about a New Year’s party we’re putting together. The hardest part is making sure the construction of the giant aquariums is completed and that the environment is right for the fish.”
“Fish?”
She laughed, the expression lighting up her face. “Okay, so get this. They want this under the sea theme so we’re building two aquariums and we’ve arranged to borrow the fish for the night. It’s not just the aquariums, it’s the marine biologist I have coming to adjust conditions and then monitor the water quality in the tank and ensure the health of the fish. Then there are lights that are supposed to make it look like you’re underwater, and sushi and cocktails served by mermaids and mermen in next to no clothing.”
“Are you joking?”
She shook her head. “Would I joke about a thing like that? It’s been a nightmare to organize.” She cut into her slab of beef and swirled it around the pool of gravy. “This is so good. I’m going to have to do sit-ups for hours in my room to work this off.”
He rolled his eyes. Right. To his mind, she could gain a few pounds and no one would even notice. If anything, she was a little on the thin side. A few pounds would take those hinted-at curves and make them...
He cleared his throat.
“What about you, Rhys? You said you work with horses?” Distracted by the chatting now, she seemed unaware that she was scooping up the mashed potatoes and gravy she’d been diligently avoiding for most of the meal.
“I work for Ty out at Diamondback.”
“What sort of work?”
“Whatever has to be done, but I work with training the horses mostly. Ty employs a couple of disadvantaged people to help around the place so I get to focus on what I do best.”
“What sort of disadvantaged people?” She leaned forward and appeared genuinely interested.
Rhys finished the last bite of Yorkshire pudding and nudged his plate away. “Well, Marty has Down’s syndrome. Getting steady work has been an issue, but he’s very good with the animals and he’s a hard worker. Josh is a different story. He’s had trouble finding work due to his criminal record. Ty’s helping him get on his feet again. Josh helps Sam’s end of things from time to time. Those cattle you mentioned herding earlier.”
Taylor frowned and pushed her plate away. She’d made a solid dent in the meal and his mother hadn’t been stingy with portions.
“So what are your plans, then?”
“What do you mean?”
She wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “I mean, do you have any plans to start up your own place or business?”
“Not really. I’m happy at Diamondback. Ty’s a good boss.”
She leaned forward. “You’re a take-charge kind of guy. I can’t see you taking orders from anyone. Don’t you want to be the one calling the shots?”
Calling the shots wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Rhys had seen enough of that his whole life. Along with being the boss came a truckload of responsibility, including the chance of success and the probability of failure. His own venture had cost him financially but it had been far worse on a deeper, personal level. Considering he now had his mom to worry about, he was content to leave the risk to someone else from here on in. “I have a job doing something I like and I get a steady paycheck every two weeks. What more could I want?”
She sat back, apparently disappointed with his answer. Too bad. Living up to her expectations wasn’t on his agenda and he sure wasn’t about to explain.
Martha returned bearing two plates of apple pie. “How was it?” she asked, looking at Taylor expectantly.
“Delicious,” she had the grace to answer with a smile. “I was trying to be good and avoid the potatoes and I just couldn’t. Thank you, Martha.”
“Well, you haven’t had my pie yet. It’s my specialty.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly.”
“If it’s your waistline worrying you, don’t. Life’s too short.” She flashed a grin. “Besides, you’ll wear that off running all over town. I heard you’re kicking butt and taking names planning this wedding. Everyone’s talking about it.”
Apparently Taylor found that highly complimentary and not at all offensive. “Well, maybe just this once.”
Martha put down the plates. “Rhys? The faucet in my kitchen sink at home has been dripping. I wondered if you could have a look at it? Consider dinner your payment in advance.”
He nodded, knowing that last part was for Taylor’s benefit more than his. He never paid for meals at the diner and instead looked after the odd jobs here and at his mother’s home.
It was why he’d come back to Cadence Creek, after all.He couldn’t leave his mother here to deal with everything on her own. She’d already been doing that for too many years. It had always been hand to mouth until this place. She still worked too hard but Rhys knew she loved every single minute.
“I’ll be around tomorrow before work to have a look,” he promised. “Then I can pick up what I need from the hardware and fix it tomorrow night.”
“That sounds great. Nice to see you again, Taylor. Can’t wait to see your handiwork at this wedding.”
Rhys watched Taylor smile. She looked tired but the smile was genuine and a pleasant surprise. She had big-city girl written all over her but it didn’t mean she was devoid of warmth. Not at all.
When Martha was gone he picked up his fork. “Try the pie. She’ll be offended if you don’t.”
Taylor took a bite and closed her eyes. “Oh, my. That’s fantastic.”
“She makes her own spice blend and doesn’t tell anyone what it is. People have been after her recipes for years,” he said, trying hard not to focus on the shape of her lips as her tongue licked a bit of caramelly filling from the corner of her mouth. “There’s a reason why the bakery focuses on cakes and breads. There’s not a pie in Cadence Creek that can hold a candle to my mom’s.”
“You seem close,” Taylor noted.
She had no idea. Rhys focused on his pie as he considered exactly how much to say. Yes, he’d come back to Cadence Creek to be nearer his mom after his dad’s death. She’d needed the help sorting out their affairs and needed a shoulder. He’d been happy to do it.
But it was more than that. They were business partners. Not that many people were aware of it and that was how he wanted it to stay. Memories were long and his father hadn’t exactly earned a stellar business reputation around town. Despite his best intentions, Rhys had followed in his footsteps. Being a silent partner in the restaurant suited him just fine.
“We are close,” he admitted. “Other than my brother, I’m the only family she’s got and the only family here in Cadence Creek. How about you? Are you close with your family?”
She nodded, allowing him to neatly change the subject. “I suppose so. We don’t live so close together, like you do, but it’s close enough and we get along. I know they were very worried about Callum when he came back from overseas. And they thought he was crazy for buying a dairy farm.” She laughed a little. “But they can see he’s happy and that’s all that matters.”
“And Jack?”
She laughed. “Jack is in Montana most of the time, busy overseeing his empire. We don’t see each other much. Our jobs keep us very busy. Running our own businesses is pretty time-consuming.”
“I can imagine.” Rhys had met and liked Jack instantly, but like Taylor, he looked a bit exhausted. Running a big sporting goods chain was likely to have that effect.
Which was why Rhys was very contented to work for Diamondback and spend some of his spare hours playing handyman for the diner and his mother’s house. It was straightforward. There was little chance of disappointing people.
Angry words and accusations still bounced around in his brain from time to time. Failing had been bad enough. But he’d let down the person he’d trusted most. And she’d made sure he knew it.
The fluted crust of Taylor’s pie was all that remained and she’d put down her fork.
“Well, I suppose we should get going.”
“I’m going to have to roll back to the B&B,” she said ruefully, putting a hand on her tummy.
“Not likely,” he said, standing up, but their gazes met and he was certain her cheeks were a little redder than they’d been before.
He took her coat from the back of the chair, pulled the scarf from the sleeve and held it so she could slide her arms into it. They were quiet now, he unsure of what to say and his show of manners making things slightly awkward. Like this was a date or something. He stood back and grabbed his jacket and shoved his arms in the sleeves. Not a date. It was just sharing a meal with...
With a woman.
Hmm.
“I’m putting my gloves on this time,” she stated with a cheeky smile.
“Good. Wouldn’t want your fingertips to fall off.”
They gave a wave to Martha before stepping outside into the crisp air.
It had warmed a bit, but that only meant that the precipitation that had held off now floated lazily to the earth. Big white flakes drifted on the air, hitting the ground with a soft shush of sound that was so peculiar to falling snow. It draped over hedges and windows, painting the town in fairy-white.
“This is beautiful,” Taylor whispered. “Snow in Vancouver is cause for chaos. Here, it’s peaceful.”
“Just because the wind isn’t blowing and causing whiteouts,” Rhys offered, but he was enchanted too. Not by the snow, but by her. The clever and efficient Taylor had tilted her head toward the sky and stuck out her tongue, catching a wide flake on its tip.
“I know it’s just water, but I swear snow tastes sweet for some reason,” she said, closing her eyes. Another flake landed on her eyelashes and she blinked, laughing as she wiped it away. “Oops.”
Rhys swallowed as a wave of desire rolled through him. Heavens above, she was pretty. Smart and funny, and while an absolute Sergeant Major on the job, a lot more relaxed when off the clock. He had the urge to reach out and take her hand as they walked through the snow. Odd that he’d have such an innocent, pure thought when the other side of his brain wondered if her mouth would taste like apples and snowflakes.
He kept his hand in his pocket and they resumed strolling.
It only took a few minutes to reach the bed and breakfast. Rhys paused outside the white picket gate. “Well, here we are.”
“Yes, here we are. What about you? You walked me back but now do you have to walk home in the snow? Or are you parked nearby?” She lifted her chin and Rhys smiled at the way the snow covered her hair with white tufts. She looked like a young girl, bundled up in her scarf and coat with snow on her head and shoulders. Definitely not like a cutthroat businesswoman who never had to take no for an answer.
“I live a few blocks over, so don’t worry about me.”
“Do you—” she paused, then innocently widened her eyes “—live with your mother?”
He laughed. “God, no. I’m thirty years old. I have my own place. I most definitely do not live with my mother.”
Her cold, pink cheeks flushed even deeper. “Oh. Well, thanks for dinner. I guess I’ll see you when we pick up the tuxes, right?”
“I guess so. See you around, Taylor.”
“Night.”
She went in the gate and disappeared up the walk, her ruby-red boots marking the way on the patio stones.
He had no business thinking about his friend’s sister that way. Even less business considering how different they were. Different philosophies, hundreds of kilometers between them... He shouldn’t have taken her elbow in his hand and guided her along.
But the truth was the very thing that made her wrong for him was exactly what intrigued him. She wasn’t like the other girls he knew. She was complicated and exciting, and that was something that had been missing from his life for quite a while.
As the snowfall picked up, he huddled into the collar of his jacket and turned away. Taylor Shepard was not for him. And since he wasn’t the type to mess around on a whim that meant keeping his hands off—for the next two weeks or so.
He could do that. Right?
* * *
Taylor had left the planning for the bridal shower to Clara Diamond, Ty’s wife and one of Avery’s bridesmaids. Tonight Taylor was attending only as a guest. In addition to the bridal party, Molly Diamond’s living room was occupied by Melissa Stone, her employee Amy, and Jean, the owner of the Cadence Creek Bakery and Avery’s partner in business.
In deference to Clara’s pregnancy and the fact that everyone was driving, the evening’s beverages included a simple punch and hot drinks—tea, coffee, or hot cocoa. Never one to turn down chocolate, Taylor helped herself to a steaming mug and took a glorious sip. Clara had added a dollop of real whipped cream to the top, making it extra indulgent. Taylor made a mental note to start running again when she returned home.
“I hope everything’s okay for tonight,” Clara said beside her. “It’s a bit nerve-racking, you know. I can’t put on an event like you, Taylor.”
Taylor had been feeling rather comfortable but Clara’s innocent observation made her feel the outsider again. “Don’t be silly. It’s lovely and simple which is just as it should be. An event should always suit the guests, and this is perfect.”
“Really?”
Indeed. A fire crackled in the fireplace and the high wood beams in the log-style home made it feel more like a winter lodge than a regular home. The last bridal shower she’d attended had been in a private room at a club and they’d had their own bartender mixing custom martinis. She actually enjoyed this setting more. But it wasn’t what people expected from her, was it? Did she really come across as...well...stuck up?
Taylor patted her arm. “Your Christmas decorations are lovely, so why would you need a single thing? Don’t worry so much. This cocoa is delicious and I plan on eating my weight in appetizers and sweets.”
She didn’t, but she knew it would put Clara at ease. She liked Clara a lot. In fact she liked all of Callum’s friends. They were utterly devoid of artifice.
Clara’s sister-in-law Angela was taking puff pastries out of the oven and their mother-in-law Molly was putting out plates of squares and Christmas cookies. Jean had brought chocolate doughnut holes and Melissa was taking the cling wrap off a nacho dip. The one woman who didn’t quite fit in was Amy, who Taylor recognized as the young woman from the diner the night she’d had dinner with Rhys. The implication had been made that Amy wasn’t pretty and smart. But she looked friendly enough, though perhaps a little younger than the rest of the ladies.
She approached her casually and smiled. “Hi, I’m Taylor. You work for Melissa, right? I’ve seen you behind the counter at the shop.”
Amy gave her a grateful smile. “Yes, that’s right. And you’re Callum’s sister.” She looked down at Taylor’s shoes. “Those are Jimmy Choos, aren’t they?”
Taylor laughed at the unconcealed longing in Amy’s voice. “Ah, a kindred spirit. They are indeed.”
“I’d die for a pair of those. Not that there’s anywhere to buy them here. Or that I could afford them.”
Her response was a bit guileless perhaps but she hadn’t meant any malice, Taylor was sure of that. “I got them for a steal last time I was in Seattle,” she replied. She leaned forward. “I’m dying to know. Why is it that everyone else is over there and you’re over here staring at the Christmas tree? I mean, it’s a nice tree, but...” She let the thought hang.
Amy blushed. “Oh. Well. I’m sure it was a polite thing to include me in the invitation. I’m not particularly close with the Diamond women. I kind of, uh...”
She took a sip of punch, which hid her face a little. “I dated Sam for a while and when he broke it off I wasn’t as discreet as I might have been about it. I have a tendency to fly off the handle and think later.”
Taylor laughed. “You sound like my brother Jack. Callum was always the thinker in the family. Jack’s far more of a free spirit.”
“It was a long time ago,” Amy admitted. “It’s hard to change minds in a town this size, though.”
“You haven’t thought of moving?”
“All the time!” Amy’s blond curls bounced. “But my family is here. I didn’t go to college. Oh, I must sound pathetic,” she bemoaned, shaking her head.
“Not at all. You sound like someone who simply hasn’t found the right thing yet. Someday you will. The perfect thing to make you want to get up in the morning. Or the perfect person.” She winked at Amy.
“I’m afraid I’ve pretty much exhausted the local resources on that score,” Amy lamented. “Which doesn’t exactly make me popular among the women, either.”
“You just need an image makeover,” Taylor suggested. “Do you like what you’re doing now?”
She shrugged. “Working for Melissa has been the best job I’ve ever had. But it’s not exactly a challenge.”
Wow. Amy did sound a lot like Jack.
“We should meet up for coffee before I go back to Vancouver,” Taylor suggested. Despite the fact that Amy was included but not quite included, Taylor liked her. She just seemed young and without direction. Heck, Taylor had been there. What Amy needed was something to feel passionate about.
“I’d like that. Just stop into the shop. I’m there most days. It’s busy leading up to the holidays.”
The last of the guests arrived and things got underway. Taylor was glad the shower stayed on the sweeter rather than raunchier side. There was no paté in the shape of the male anatomy, no gag gifts or handcuffs or anything of the sort. They played a “Celebrity Husband” game where each guest put a name of a celebrity they had a crush on into a bowl and then they had to guess which star belonged to whom. The resulting laughter from names ranging from Kevin Costner who got Molly’s vote to Channing Tatum—Amy’s pick—broke the ice beautifully.
The laughter really picked up during Bridal Pictionary, which pitted Taylor against Angela as they attempted to draw “wedding night” without getting graphic. After they took a break to stuff themselves with snacks, they all returned to the living room for gifts.
Taylor sat back into the soft sofa cushions and examined the woman who was about to become her sister-in-law. Avery was so lovely—kind and gentle but with a backbone of steel. She was a fantastic mother to her niece, Nell, who was Callum’s biological daughter. Taylor couldn’t have handpicked a nicer woman to marry her brother. It gave her a warm feeling, but also an ache in her heart, too. That ache unsettled her a bit, until she reminded herself that she was simply very happy that Callum had found someone after all his troubles. A love like that didn’t come along every day.
Her thoughts strayed to Rhys for a moment. The man was a contradiction for sure. On one hand he was full of confidence and really quite bossy. And yet he was satisfied with taking orders from someone else and moving back to this small town with very few options. It didn’t make sense.
It also didn’t make sense that for a brief moment earlier in the week, she’d had the craziest urge to kiss him. The snow had been falling on his dark cap of hair and dusting the shoulders of his jacket. And he’d been watchful of her, too. There’d been something there, a spark, a tension of some sort. Until he’d turned to go and she’d gone up the walk and into the house.
She hadn’t seen him since. Not at the diner, not around town.
Avery opened a red box and a collective gasp went up from the group. “Oh, Molly. Oh, gosh.” Avery reached into the tissue paper and withdrew a gorgeous white satin-and-lace nightgown. “It’s stunning.”
“Every woman should have something beautiful for their wedding night,” Molly said. “I saw it and couldn’t resist.”
Taylor watched as Avery stood and held the long gown up to herself. The bodice was cut in a daring “V” and consisted of sheer lace while the satin skirt fell straight to the floor, a deep slit cut to the hip. It blended innocence with sexy brilliantly.
She took another sip of cocoa and let her mind carry her away for a few blissful seconds. What would it be like to wear that nightgown? She would feel the lace cups on her breasts, the slide of the satin on her thighs. She’d wear slippers with it, the kind of ridiculous frippery that consisted of heels and a puff of feathers at the toe. And Rhys’s dark eyes would light up as she came into the room, their depths filled with fire and hunger...
“Helloooo, earth to Taylor!”
She blinked and focused on the circle of women who were now staring at her. “Oh. Sorry.”
“I was just going to say thank you for the bath basket, but you were in another world.” Avery was smiling at her.
“You’re welcome! Goodness, sorry about that. Occupational hazard. Sometimes it’s hard to shut the old brain off.” She hoped her flippant words were believable. What would they say if they knew she’d been daydreaming about the only groomsman who wasn’t married or a relative?
“Right,” Amy said with a wide grin. “I know that look. You were thinking about a dude.”
Damn her for being astute. Who had said she wasn’t smart, anyway?
Melissa burst out laughing. “Were you? Come on, do tell. Do you have some guy hiding away in Vancouver?”
“No!” The word was out before she realized it would have been the most convenient way out of the situation.
Avery came to her rescue, though. “We’re just teasing. Seriously, thank you. It’s a lovely gift.”
She reached for the last present on the pile and removed the card. “Oh,” she said with delight. “It’s from Martha. I wonder if she’s going to part with her coconut cream pie recipe.” Everyone laughed. Martha Bullock never shared her pie recipes with anyone. Even Rhys had mentioned that at dinner the other night.
Avery ripped the paper off the box and withdrew a plain black binder. Opening the cover, she gasped. “It is recipes! Look!” She read off the table of contents. “Supper Dishes, Breads and Muffins, Cookies, Cakes, Salads, Preserves.” She lifted her head and laughed. “No pies.”
Excited, she began flipping through the pages when Amy interrupted again. “That’s it!” she called out, causing Avery’s fingers to pause and the rest of the group to stare at her in surprise.
“That’s where I saw you last,” Amy continued, undaunted. “It was at the diner. You had dinner with Rhys!”
Six more sets of eyes swiveled Taylor’s way until she felt like a bug under a microscope.
“It wasn’t a date. We both ended up needing to eat at the same time. We just met outside on the sidewalk and, uh, sat together.”
“It sure didn’t look that way,” Amy answered, a little too gleeful for Taylor’s liking. “Now that is news. Rhys hasn’t shown up anywhere with a date since...”
She suddenly blushed and turned her gaze to something over Jean’s shoulder. “Well, it doesn’t matter how long since.”
It was uncomfortably quiet for a few moments until a small giggle broke the silence. Clara was trying not to laugh and failing miserably. Angela and Molly joined in, followed by Jean and Melissa. Even Avery’s mouth was twitching. Taylor frowned a little, wondering what the joke could be.
Amy had the grace to look chagrined. “Okay, I know. My track record sucks.”
Angela spoke up. “Honey, Rhys Bullock is one tough nut to crack. Someday the right guy’s gonna come along.”
Amy’s eyes glistened. “Just my luck I won’t recognize him when I see him.”
Everyone laughed again.
Then Avery spoke up. “That’s what I thought, too, Amy. Don’t give up hope. You just never know.” She looked at Taylor. “And I know for a fact that Rhys is smart and stubborn. Sounds like someone else I know. Keep us posted, Taylor.”
“Yeah,” Clara added, her hand on her rounded stomach. “The old married women need some excitement now and again.”
“I swear I bumped into him outside. Literally. Ran smack into him and nearly broke my phone.” She brought her hands together in demonstration of the collision. “It was dark, it was dinnertime and we had pot roast. End of story.”
But as the subject changed and they cleaned up the paper and ribbons, Taylor’s thoughts kept drifting back to that night and how she’d almost reached out to take his hand as he walked her home.
It was such a simple and innocent gesture to think about, especially in these days of casual hookups. Not that hooking up was her style, either. That philosophy combined with her long hours meant she hadn’t had time for personal relationships for ages. Not since the early days of her business, when she’d been seeing an investment planner named John. He’d wanted more than a girlfriend who brought work home at the end of a twelve-hour day and considered takeout a sensible dinner. After a few months in, he’d walked. The thing Taylor felt most guilty about was how it had been a relief.
She balled up used napkins and put them in the trash. Time kept ticking. A few days from now was the rehearsal, and then the wedding and then Callum and Avery would be away on their honeymoon and Taylor would move out of the B&B and into their house until Boxing Day, where she planned on watching movies, reading books and basically hibernating from the outside world. It was going to be peace and quiet and then a family Christmas.
Complications in the form of Rhys Bullock would only ruin her plans.
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS TAYLOR’S experience that if the rehearsal went badly, the wedding was sure to be smooth and problem free. A sentiment which boded well for Callum and Avery, as it turned out, because nothing seemed to be going her way.
First of all, everything was an hour late starting thanks to a winter storm, which dumped enough snow to complicate transportation. The minister had slid off the road and into a snowbank. The car wasn’t damaged but by the time the tow truck had pulled him out, the wedding party was waiting and quite worried by his absence. Then Taylor opened the box that was supposed to contain the tulle bows for the ends of the church pews to find that they’d been constructed of a horrible peachy-yellow color—completely unsuited for a Christmas wedding!
The late start and the road conditions also meant canceling the rehearsal dinner that had been organized at an Italian place in the city. Taylor was just about ready to pull her hair out when she felt a wide hand rest on her shoulder.
“Breathe,” Rhys commanded. “It’s all fine.”
She clenched her teeth but exhaled through her nose. “Normally I would just deal with stuff like this without batting an eyelid. I don’t know why it’s throwing me so much.”
“Maybe because it’s for your brother,” he suggested.
He might be right. She did want everything just right for Callum’s wedding. It wasn’t some corporate dinner or celebrity party. It was personal. It was once in a lifetime.
God, there was a reason why she didn’t do weddings.
“What can I do to help?”
She shrugged. “Do you have a roll of white tulle in your pocket? Perhaps a spare horseshoe I could rub for good luck or something?”
He grimaced. “Afraid not. And you rub a rabbit’s foot, not a horseshoe. I’m guessing our plans for dinner have changed.”
She looked up at him. He was “dressed up” for the rehearsal—neat jeans, even with a crease down the front, and a pressed button-down shirt tucked into the waistband. His boots made him look taller than ever, especially as she’d decided on her low-heeled boots tonight in deference to the weather. There was a strength and stability in him that made her take a deep breath and regroup. For some reason she didn’t want to appear incapable in front of him. “I’ve had to cancel our reservations.”
“I’ll call my mom. It won’t be as fancy as what you planned, but I’m guessing she can manage a meal for a dozen of us.”
“We can’t have a rehearsal dinner at a diner.”
His lips puckered up like he’d tasted something sour. “Do you have any better suggestions? I guess you could pick up some day-old sandwiches at the gas station and a bag of cookies. You don’t exactly have a lot of options.”
“It was supposed to be romantic and relaxing and...” She floundered a little. “You know. Elegant.”
He frowned at her and she regretted what she’d implied. “What would you do if you were in Vancouver right now?” he asked.
“This kind of weather wouldn’t happen in Vancouver.”
He made a disgusted sound. “You’re supposed to be so good at your job. You’re telling me nothing ever goes off the plan?”
“Well, sure it does, but I...”
“But you what?”
“I handle it.”
“How is this different?”
“Because it’s family.”
The moment she said it her throat tightened. This wasn’t just another job. This was her big brother’s wedding. This was also the chance where she would prove herself to her family. She could talk until she was blue in the face, but the truth of the matter was she still sought their approval. The Shepards were driven and successful. It was just expected. She knew she’d disappointed her dad in particular. He thought what she did was unimportant, and the last thing she wanted to do was fall on her professional face in front of him.
“This isn’t Vancouver, or Toronto, or New York or L.A.” Rhys spoke firmly. “This isn’t a big-city event with a bunch of rich snobs. It’s just Cadence Creek. Maybe it’s not good enough for you but it’s good enough for Callum and Avery and maybe you should consider that instead of only thinking about yourself.”
His words hurt. Partly because he was judging her without even knowing her and partly because he was right, at least about things being simpler here. How many times had Avery said they didn’t need anything fancy? Taylor had insisted because it was no trouble. Had she messed up and forgotten the singular most important rule: Give the client what they ask for?
“Call your mother, then, and see if there’s any way she can squeeze us in.”
“Give me five minutes.”
The words weren’t said kindly, and Taylor felt the sting of his reproof. Still, she didn’t have time to worry about Rhys Bullock—there was too much left to do. While the minister spoke to Avery and Callum, Taylor fished poinsettia plants out of a waiting box and lined them up on the altar steps in alternating red and creamy white. The congregation had already decorated the tree and the Christmas banners were hung behind the pulpit. The manger from the Sunday School play had been tucked away into the choir loft, which would be unused during the wedding, and instead she set up a table with a snowy-white cloth and a gorgeous spray of red roses, white freesias and greenery. It was there that the bride and groom would sign the register.
The altar looked fine, but the pews and windowsills were naked. In addition to the wrong color tulle, the company had forgotten to ship the candle arrangements for the windows. This would be the last time she ever used them for any of her events!
Her father, Harry, approached, a frown creasing his brow. “What are the plans for after the rehearsal?”
Taylor forced a smile. She would not get into it with her father tonight. “I’m working on that, don’t worry.”
“You should have insisted on having the wedding in the city, at a nice hotel. Then the weather wouldn’t be an issue. Everything at your fingertips.”
She’d had the thought a time or two herself; not that she’d admit it to her father. “This will be fine.”
He looked around. “It would have been so much easier. Not that the town isn’t nice, of course it is. But you’re the planner, Taylor.” His tone suggested she wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
“It wasn’t what Callum and Avery wanted,” she reminded him. “And it’s their day.”
He smiled unexpectedly, a warm turning up of his lips that Taylor recognized as his “sales pitch” smile. “Oh, come now. A smart businessman knows how to convince a client to come around.”
Businessman. Taylor wondered if counting to ten would help. She met her father’s gaze. “Callum isn’t a client, he’s my brother. And he’s giving you the daughter-in-law and grandkid you’ve wanted, so ease up.”
Anything else they would have said was cut short as Rhys came back, tucking his cell phone in his pocket as he walked. “Good news. Business is slow because of the weather. Mom’s clearing out that back corner and she’s got a full tray of lasagna set aside.”
It certainly wasn’t the Caprese salad, veal Parmesan and tiramisu that Taylor had planned on, but it was convenient. She offered a polite smile. “Thank you, Rhys.” At least one thing had been fixed.
“It’s no trouble.”
With a brief nod, Harry left the two of them alone.
“Everything okay?” Rhys asked.
She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Yeah, it’s fine. Dad was just offering an unsolicited opinion, that’s all.”
He chuckled. “Parents are like that.”
“You’ve no idea,” she answered darkly. “I still wish I knew what to do about the pew markers. There’s no time to run to Edmonton for materials to make them, even if it weren’t storming. And the candles never arrived, either.”
“It doesn’t have to be perfect. No one will know.”
His words echoed from before, the ones that said she was too good for this town. She dismissed them, because she still had a certain standard. “I’ll know.”
Clara heard the last bit and tapped Taylor on the shoulder. “Why don’t you call Melissa and see if she can do something for the pews with satin ribbon?”
“At this late hour?”
Clara nodded. “Worst she can say is no. I have a feeling she’ll try something, though. She’s a whiz at that stuff. And I might be able to help you out with the windowsills.”
Taylor’s eyebrows pulled together. “What do you mean?”
Clara laughed. “Just trust me.”
“I’m not in the habit of trusting details to other people, Clara. It’s nothing personal—it’s just how I work.”
“Consider it a helping hand from a friend. You’re going to be here before anyone else tomorrow anyway. If you don’t like what I’ve done, you can take it out, no hard feelings.” She smiled at Taylor. “I’d like to do this. For Avery. She’s like family, you know?”
Rhys’s hand touched Taylor’s back. It was warm and felt good but Taylor got the feeling it was also a little bit of a warning. “I’m sure Taylor’s very grateful for your help, Clara.”
Dammit. Now he was putting words in her mouth. Perhaps it could be argued that this was “just family” but to Taylor’s mind, if she couldn’t manage to get the details of one small country wedding right, what did that say about her business?
Then again, in Vancouver she had staff. She could delegate. Which was pretty much what Clara was suggesting. She was just asking her to trust, sight unseen. And then there was the word “friend.” She was a stranger here, a fish out of water for the most part and yet everyone seemed to accept her into their group without question. She wasn’t used to that.
“Thank you, Clara,” she said, but when Clara had gone she turned on Rhys. “Don’t ever answer for me again.”
“You were being rude.”
Now he was judging her manners?
“Look, maybe Callum and Avery are family but I still hold to a certain standard. This is my job. And it’s all carefully planned down to the last detail.”
She’d had things go wrong before and it wasn’t pretty. She’d been determined never to fail like that again. It was why she dealt with trusted vendors and had a competent staff. She’d pulled off events ten times as complicated as this without a hitch.
Knowing it was like sprinkling salt in the wound.
He put a finger under her chin and lifted it. Considering how abrupt he’d been earlier, the tender touch surprised her. “You don’t have to control everything. It’ll be fine, I promise. It’s okay to accept help once in a while.”
“I’m not used to that.”
“I know,” he said gently. “You’re stubborn, strong, bossy and completely competent. But things happen. Call Melissa, trust Clara, pretend to walk down the aisle for the rehearsal and then go stuff yourself with lasagna. I promise you’ll feel better.”
She didn’t like being handled. Even if, at this moment, she suspected she needed it. It was so different being here. More relaxed, laid-back. She was used to grabbing her non-fat latte on her way to the office, not sipping from china cups in a B&B dining room while eating croissants. Maneuvering her SUV with the fold-down seats through city traffic rather than walking the two blocks to wherever. Definitely not used to men looking into her eyes and seeing past all her barriers.
Cadence Creek was a completely different pace with completely different expectations.
“Rhys? Taylor? We’re ready for the walk-through,” Avery called down the aisle, a happy smile on her face. Despite the wrinkles in the plans, Taylor’s soon-to-be sister-in-law was beaming.
Well, if the bride wasn’t worried, she wouldn’t be, either. She looked up at Rhys. “I’ll call Melissa when we’re done. But if this goes wrong...”
“I expect I’ll hear about it.”
The other members of the wedding party joined them at the end of the aisle—first Clara and Ty, then Sam and Angela, Jack and Avery’s friend Denise, who’d flown in from Ontario just this morning and thankfully ahead of the storm. Rhys held out his arm. “Shall we?” he asked, waiting for her to take his elbow.
She folded her hand around his arm, her fingers resting just below his elbow as they took slow steps up the aisle. It was just a silly rehearsal, so she shouldn’t have a tangle of nerves going on just from a simple touch.

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